University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

[Same scene in the Garden. Enter Bianca.]
BIANCA.
No! no! come hate—come worse—indifference!
Come any thing—I will not! He is gone
To bring me flowers now, for he sees I'm sad;
Yet, with his delicate thought, asks not the reason,
But tries to steal it from me!—could I kill him!
His eyes grew moist this morn, for I was pale—
With thinking of his murder! Could I kill him!
Oh Sforza! I could walk on burning ploughshares,
But not kill pitying Giulio! I could starve—
Or freeze with wintry cold—or swallow fire—
Or die a death for every drop of blood
Curdling at my sad heart, but not kill Giulio!
No—no—no! no!
(Sforza comes in dejectedly.)
My Lord! My noble Lord!

SFORZA.
Give you good day, Bianca!

BIANCA.
Are you ill,
That you should drop your words so sorrowfully?

SFORZA.
I am not ill, nor well!

BIANCA.
Not well?

SFORZA.
The pulse
Beats on sometimes, when the heart quite runs down.
I'm very well!

BIANCA.
My Lord, you married me—
The priest said so—to share both joy and sorrow.
For the last privilege I've shed sweet tears!—
If I'm not worthy—

SFORZA.
Nay—you are!—I thank you
For many proofs of gentle disposition,
Which, to say truth, I scarcely look'd for in you—
Knowing that policy, and not your choice,
United us!

BIANCA.
My Lord!

SFORZA.
I say you're worthy,
For this, to see my heart—if you could do so—
But there's a grief in't now which brings you joy,
And so you'll pardon me!

(Giulio comes in with a heap of flowers, which he throws down and listens.)
BIANCA.
That cannot be!

SFORZA.
Listen to this. I had a falcon lately,
That I had train'd, till, in the sky above him,
He was the monarch of all birds that flew.
I loved him next my heart, and had no joy,
But to unloose his feet, and see the eagle
Quail at his fiery swoop! I brought him here!
Sitting one day upon my wrist, he heard
The nightingale you love, sing in the tree,
While I applauded him. With jealous heart
My falcon sprang to kill him; and with fear
For your sweet bird, I struck him to my feet;
And since that hour, he droops. His heart is broke,
And he'll ne'er soar again!

PAGE.
Why, one such bird
Were worth a thousand nightingales.

BIANCA,
(aside.)
(Poor boy!
He utters his own doom!) (To Sf.)
My Lord, I have
A slight request, which you will not refuse me.
Please you, to-day sleep in your chamber. I
Will give you reason for't.

SFORZA.
Be't as you will!
The noon creeps on apace, and in my dreams
I may forget this heaviness. (Goes in.)


BIANCA.
Be stern,
Strong heart! and think on Sforza! Giulio!

PAGE.
Madam!

BIANCA,
(aside.)
(He's hot and weary now, and will drink freely
This opiate in his cup, and from his sound
And sudden sleep he'll wake in Paradise.)
Giulio, I say!

(She mixes an opiate.)
PAGE.
Sweet Lady, pardon me!
I dream'd I was in Heaven, and fear'd to stir
Lest I should jar some music. Was't your voice
I heard sing, ‘Giulio?’

BIANCA,
(aside.)
(Oh, ye pitying angels,
Let him not love me most, when I would kill him.)
Drink, Giulio!

PAGE.
Is it sweet?

BIANCA.
The sweetest cup
You'll drink in this world!

PAGE.
I can make it sweeter—

BIANCA.
And how?

PAGE.
With your health in it!

BIANCA.
Drink it not!
Not my health! Drink what other health thou wilt!
Not mine—not mine!

PAGE.
Then here's the noble falcon
That Sforza told us of! Would you not kill
The nightingale that broke his spirit, Madam?

BIANCA.
Oh Giulio! Giulio! (Weeps.)


PAGE.
Nay—I did not think
You loved your singing bird so well, dear Lady!

BIANCA,
(aside.)
(He'll break my heart!)

PAGE.
Say truly, if the falcon
Must pine unless the nightingale were dead,
Would you not kill it?

BIANCA.
Tho' my life went with it—
I must do so!

PAGE.
Why—so I think! And yet
If I had fed the nightingale, and lov'd him;
And he were innocent, as, after all,
He is, you know—I should not like to kill him—
Not with my own hands!

BIANCA,
(aside.)
(Now, relentless Heavens,
Must I be struck with daggers thro' and through!
Speaks not a mocking demon with his lips?
I will not kill him!)

PAGE.
Sforza has gone in—
May I sleep there, sweet lady, in his place?

BIANCA.
No—boy! thou shalt not!

PAGE.
Then will you?

BIANCA.
Oh God!
I would I could, and have no waking after!
Come hither, Giulio! nay—nay—stop not there!
Come on a little, and I'll make thy pillow
Softer than ever mine will be again!
Tell me you love me ere you go to sleep!

PAGE.
With all my soul, dear mistress! (Drops asleep.)


BIANCA.
Now he sleeps!
This mantle for his pall—but stay—his shape
Looks not like Sforza under it. Fair flowers,
(Heaps them at his feet, and spreads the mantle over all.)
Your innocence to his! Exhale together,
Pure spirit and sweet fragrance! So—one kiss!
Giulio! my brother!—Who comes there? Wake, Giulio!
Or thou'lt be murdered! Nay—'twas but the wind!
(Withdraws on tiptoe, and crouches behind a tree.)
I will kneel here and pray!
(Brunorio creeps in, followed by Sarpellione at a distance.)
Hark!

SARPELLIONE.
See—he sleeps.
Strike well, and fear not!

BIANCA,
(springing forward as he strikes.)
Giulio! Giulio! wake!
Ah God!

(She drops on the body, the murderer escapes, and Sforza rushes in. As he bends over her the scene closes.)

SCENE II.

[A road outside the walls of Milan. Enter Sarpellione and Brunorio, flying from the city, and met by Pasquali.]
PASQUALI.
What news, sirs?
(As they attempt to pass him without answer, he steps before Sarpellione.)
Stay, Count, I'd a word with you.

SARPELLIONE.
Stand off, and let me pass!

PASQUALI.
Nay, with your leave,
One single word!

SARPELLIONE.
Brunorio! hasten forward,
And loose my bridle! I'll be there o' th' instant!
(Brunorio hastens on.)
What would you say?

PASQUALI.
My Lord! I hear the bell
Tolling in Milan, that is never heard
But at some dread alarm.

SARPELLIONE,
(pressing to go on.)
Is that all?

PASQUALI.
Stay!
I met a flying peasant here just now,
Who mutter'd of some murder, and flew on!

SARPELLIONE.
Slave! let me pass!

(Draws, and Pasquali confronts him with his sword.)
PASQUALI.
My Lord! you once essayed
To tempt me to a murder. Something tells me
That this hot haste has guilt upon its heels,
And you shall stay till I know more of it.
Down with your point!

SARPELLIONE.
Villain! respect my office!

PASQUALI.
No “villain,” and no murderer! In Milan
They've soldiers' law, and if your skirts are bloody,
You'll get small honor for your coat, Ambassador!
Bear back, I say!

(They fight, and Sarpellione falls, disarmed, on his knee.)
SARPELLIONE.
In mercy, spare my life!

PASQUALI.
Up, coward! You shall go before to Milan,
And meet the news! If you are innocent,
I'll ne'er believe a secret prompting more.
If not, I've done the state a worthy service.
On, on, I say!

(Drives Sarpellione out before him at the point of his sword.)

SCENE III.

[A room of state in the palace. Enter Rossano and a Priest.]
ROSSANO.
Will she not eat?

PRIEST.
She hath not taken food
Since the boy died!

ROSSANO.
Nor slept?

PRIEST.
Nor closed an eyelid!

ROSSANO.
What does she?

PRIEST.
Still, with breathless repetition,
Goes thro' the Page's murder—makes his couch
As he lay down i' the garden—heaps again
The flowers upon him to eke out his length;
Then kisses him, and hides to see him kill'd!
'Twould break your heart to look on't.

ROSSANO.
Is't the law
That she must crown him?

PRIEST.
If, upon the death
Of any Duke of Milan, the succession
Fall to a daughter, she may rule alone,
Giving her husband neither voice nor power
If she so please. But if she delegate
The crown to him, or in extremity
Impose it, it is not legitimate,
Save he is crown'd by her own living hands
In presence of the Council.

(Enter Sforza, hastily, in full armor, except the helmet.)
SFORZA.
Ho! Rossano!

ROSSANO.
My Lord!

SFORZA.
Send quick, and summon in the Council
To see the crown imposed! Bianca dies!
My throne hangs on your speed! Fly!
(Exit Rossano.)
Sentry, ho!
Despatch a hundred of my swiftest horse
Tow'rd Naples! Bring me back Sarpellione!
Alive or dead, a thousand ducats for him!
Quick!

(Exit sentinel, re-enter Rossano.)
ROSSANO.
I have sped your orders!

(Enter a messenger.)
MESSENGER.
Please my Lord,
Lady Bianca prays your presence with her!

SFORZA.
Away! I'll come! (To Rossano.)
Go, man the citadel
With my choice troops! Post them at every gate!
Send for the Milanese to scout or forage,
I care not what, so they're without the wall!
And hark, Rossano! if you hear a knell
Wail out before the coronation peal,—
Telling to Milan that Bianca's dead,
And there's no Duke—down with the ducal banner,
And, like an eagle, to the topmost tower
Up with my gonfalon! Away!

(Re-enter the messenger from Bianca.)
MESSENGER.
My Lord—

SFORZA.
I come! I come!

PASQUALI,
(without.)
In, in!

(Enter Sarpellione, followed by Pasquali.)
SARPELLIONE,
(aghast at the sight of Sforza.)
Alive!

SFORZA.
Ha, devil!
Have you come back to get some fresher news?
Alfonso'd know who's Duke! While you are hanging,
I'll ride to Naples with the news myself!
Ha! ha! my star smiles on me!

(Bianca rushes in, and crouches at the side of Sforza, as if hiding from something beyond him.)
BIANCA.
Hark! I hear them!
Come! come! Brunorio!—If you come not quick,
My heart will break and wake him!
(Presses her hand painfully to her side.)
Crack not yet!
Nay, think on Sforza! Think 'tis for his love!
Giulio will be an angel up in Heaven,
And Sforza will drink glory from my hand!
Come! come! Brunorio!
(Screams piercingly.)
Ah, who murder'd Giulio!
Not I!—not I! not I!

SFORZA,
(watching her with emotion.)
Oh Heav'n! How dearly
Are bought the proudest triumphs of this world!

BIANCA.
Will the bell never peal!

PRIEST,
(to an attendant.)
On that string only
Her mind plays truly now. Her life hangs on it!
The waiting for the bell of coronation
Is the last link that holds!

SFORZA,
(raising her.)
My much-lov'd wife!

BIANCA.
Is it thee, Sforza? Has the bell pealed yet?

SFORZA.
Think not of that, but take some drink, Bianca!
You'll kill me this way!

BIANCA,
(dashing down the cup.)
Think you I'll drink fire!

SFORZA.
Then taste of this!

(Offers her a pomegranate.)
BIANCA,
(laughing bitterly.)
I'm not a fool! I know
The fruit of Hell has ashes at the core!
Mock me some other way!

SFORZA.
My poor Bianca!

BIANCA.
Ha! ha! that's well done! You've the shape of Sforza,
And you're a devil, and can mock his voice—
But Sforza never spoke so tenderly!
You overdo it! Ha! ha! ha!

SFORZA.
God help me,
I would her brother had been Duke in Milan
And I his slave—so she had liv'd and lov'd me!

BIANCA.
Can you see Heaven from hence! I thought 'twas part
Of a soul's agony in Hell to see
The blest afar off? Can I not see Giulio?
(Struggles, as if to escape something before her eyes.)
Sforza's between!

SFORZA.
Bianca! sayst thou that?
(Struggles with himself a moment.)
Nay, then, 'tis time to say farewell, Ambition!
(Turns to the Priest.)
Look, father! I'm unskill'd in holy things,
But I have heard, the sacrifice of that
Which the repenting soul lov'd more than Heaven,
Will work a miracle.
(Takes his sword from his scabbard, and proceeds in a deeper voice.)
I love my sword
As never mother lov'd her rosy child!
My heart is in its hilt—my life, my soul,
Follow it like the light! Say thou dost think
If I give that up for a life of peace,
Heav'n will give back her reason—

PRIEST,
(eagerly.)
Doubt it not!

SFORZA.
Then—take it!

(Drops the hilt into his hand, and holds it a moment.)
SARPELLIONE,
(in a hoarse whisper.)
Welcome news for King Alfonso!

SFORZA,
(starting.)
Fiend! sayst thou so! Nay then, come back, my sword.
I'll follow in its gleaming track to Naples,
If the world perish!
(Enter Rossano.)
Now, what news, Rossano?

ROSSANO.
In answer to your wish, the noble Council
Consent to see the crown imposed in private—
Three delegated lords will presently
Attend you here!

SFORZA,
(energetically.)
Tell him who strikes the bell,
To look forth from his tower and watch this window!
When he shall see a handkerchief wave hence
Let him peal out.
(Attendant goes out.)
My gonfalon shall float
Over St. Mark's before Foscari dreams
There's a new Duke in Milan! Let Alfonso
Look to the north!

(Enter attendant.)
ATTENDANT.
My Lord, the noble Council
Wait to come in!

(Sforza waves his hand, and they enter.)
FIRST LORD.
Health to the noble Sforza!

SFORZA.
My Lords, the deep calamity we suffer
Must cut off ceremony. Milan's heiress
Lies there before you, failing momently,
But holds in life to give away the crown.
If your'e content to see her put it on me
Let it be so as quickly as it may!
Give signal for the bell!

(The handkerchief is waved and the bell peals. Bianca rises to her feet.)
BIANCA.
It peals at last!
Where am I? Bring some wine, dear Giulio!
(Looks round fearfully.)
Am I awake now! I've been dreaming here
That he was dead! Oh God! a horrid dream!
Come hither, Sforza. I have dreamt a dream,
If I can tell it you—will make your hair
Stand up with horror!

SFORZA.
Tell it not?

BIANCA.
This Giulio
Was, in my dream, my brother—how I knew it
I do not now remember—but I did!
And lov'd him—(that you know must be a dream)
Better than you!

SFORZA.
What—better?

BIANCA.
Was't not strange?
Being my brother, he must have the crown!
Stay!—is my father dead—or was't i' the dream too?

SFORZA.
He's dead, Bianca!

BIANCA.
Well! you lov'd me not,
And Giulio did—and somehow you should hate me
If he were Duke; and so I kill'd him, loving me,
For you that lov'd me not! Is it not strange
That we can dream such things? The manner of it—
To see it in a play would break your heart—
It was so pitiless! Look here! this boy
Brings me a heap of flowers!—I'll show it you
As it was done before me in the dream!
Don't weep! 'twas but a dream—but I'll not sleep
Again till I've seen Giulio—the blood seem'd
So ghastly natural! I shall see it, Sforza,
Till I have pass'd my hand across his side!
(Turning to the attendants.)
Will some one call my Page?

SFORZA.
My own Bianca,
Will you not drink?

(She drops the cup in horror.)
BIANCA.
Just such a cup as that
Had liquid fire in't when the deed was done—
A devil mock'd me with it!
(Another cup is brought, and she drinks.)
This is wine!
Thank God, I wake now!
(She turns to an attendant.)
Will you see if Giulio
Is in the garden?

SFORZA.
Strike the bell once more.

BIANCA.
He kiss'd me ere he slept—wilt listen, Sforza?

SFORZA.
Tell me no more, sweet one!

BIANCA.
And then I heap'd
The very flowers he brought me, at his feet,
To eke his body out as long as yours—
Was't not a hellish dream?
(The bell strikes again, and she covers her ears in horror.)
That bell! Oh Heav'n!
'Tis no dream—now I know—yes—yes—I know
These be the councillors—and you are Sforza,
And that's Rossano—and I kill'd my brother
To make you Duke! Yes, yes! I see it all!
Oh God! Oh God!

(She covers her face, and weeps.)
SFORZA.
My Lords, her reason rallies
Little by little. With this flood of tears,
Her brain's reliev'd, and she'll give over raving.
My wife! Bianca! If thou ever lov'dst me,
Look on my face!

BIANCA.
Oh Sforza, I have given
For thy dear love, the eyes I had to see it,
The ears to hear it. I have broke my heart
In reaching for't.

SFORZA.
Ay—but 'tis thine now, sweet one!
The life-drops in my heart are less dear to me!

BIANCA.
Too late! you've crush'd the light out of a gem
You did not know the price of! Had you spoken
But one kind word upon my bridal night!

SFORZA.
Forgive me, my Bianca!

BIANCA.
I am parch'd
With thirst now, and my eyes grow faint and dim.
Are you here, Sforza?—Mourn not for me long!
But bury me with Giulio!
(Starts from him.)
Hark! I hear
His voice now! Do the walls of Paradise
Jut over Hell? I heard his voice, I say!
(Strikes off Sforza, who approaches her.)
Unhand me, devil! You've the shape of one
Who upon earth had no heart! Can you take
No shape but that? Can you not look like Giulio!
(Sforza falls back, struck with remorse.)
Hark! 'tis his low, imploring voice again—
He prays for poor Bianca! And look, see you!
The portals stir! Slow, slow—and difficult!
(Creeps forward with her eyes upward.)
Pray on, my brother! Pray on, Giulio!
I come! (Falls on her face.)


(Sforza drops on his knee, pale and trembling.)
SFORZA.
My soul shrinks with unnatural fear!
What heard I then? “Sforza, give up thy sword!”
Was it from Heaven or Hell!
(Shrinks, as if from some spectre in the air.)
I will! I will!

(Holds out his sword as if to the monk, and Sarpellione, who has been straining forward to watch Bianca, springs suddenly to her side.)
SARPELLIONE.
She's dead! Ha! ha! who's Duke in Milan now?

(Sforza rises with a bound.)
SFORZA.
Sforza!

(He flies to the window, and waves the handkerchief. The bell peals out, and as he rushes to Bianca, she

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moves, lifts her head, looks wildly around, and struggles to her feet. Rossano gives her the crown— she looks an instant smilingly on Sforza, and with a difficult but calm effort places it on his head. All drop on one knee to do allegiance, and as Sforza lifts himself to his loftiest height, with a look of triumph at Sarpellione, Bianca sinks dead at his feet.
[Curtain falls.