University of Virginia Library

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.)