University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The house of Marsio. Enter Marsio.
Marsio.
Kneel to Costanza,—test her constancy!
There 's something in me mutinies at that:
But she shall have full vengeance. Kneel to her!
As if I were not. Have I fallen so low
That this fine gentleman, this courtly scum,
Scorns to regard me? Traffic for her, too!
As if I kept my lady on my shelves,
To wait a market. On my life, you'll find
My heart boils sometimes, and the reek is death
To such as stir it! She shall be revenged!
[Draws forth a vial.]
Now, trembling liquid, who, to look at thee—
At thy pale, sickly aspect—at thy bulk,
Cowering to nothing in thy crystal house—
Would think that thou couldst give so brave a fall
To his befeathered Countship? What, canst thou
Stiffen the strong steel sinews of yon man
Who wields the sword so featly? As I live,
I doubt thee, mainly! Come, one sturdy shake,
To rouse thy courage. Ha! my little fellow,
How thou dost caper! Thou hast spirit, yet.
But how to face thee with thy enemies?
'T would fix suspicion on me, to be seen
Hanging around their cups. Now, could I bribe
Some fool among the servants—but whom, but whom?
Curse on my negligence! I should have thought—
There 's Pulti—Pulti—

(Enter Pulti.)
Pulti.
At your elbow, sir,
Quoth sin unto the devil.

Mar.
Merry dog!
What brought you back?

Pul.
You left so hastily,
I thought I might be wanted.

Mar.
Faithful heart!
Here is a trifle for you. By my soul,
Your love deserves it richly, Pulti.

[Gives a purse.]
Pul.
Well,
It makes him so much poorer. [Aside.]


Mar.
Pulti—

Pul.
Signore.

Mar.
You love your master, Pulti?

Pul.
That I do!
I 'd swim through burning brimstone for my master—
Good signore Salvatore! [Aside.]


Mar.
Bravely said!
Now, had your master two unresting foes—
Dogging his footsteps—crossing his fair plans—
Marring his hopes—turning his sweetest cup,
Ere it were tasted, to cruel bitterness—
Pursuing him with most vindictive hate—
Ever hot-footed on his way of life,
Beating its quiet path to choking dust;
Until your heart-sick master—note me, Pulti—
Longed for the grave to hide him from their wrath;
What would you do, brave, noble fellow, ha?

Pul.
Cut them to slivers!

Mar.
Famous! Rashly bold,
A little over-bold, however. No;
You 'd take this vial, hidden in your sleeve—
Thus, Pulti, thus—and when the wine went round,
You 'd slyly drop five drops—no more nor less—
In each one's cup—ha! Pulti? And, next day,
This vast machine of earth would tumble on,
As if these dreadful bullies ne'er had been.—
Would you not, Pulti?

Pul.
Yes, indeed. I'll swear—
Tell me some fearful oath to swear it by.

Mar.
Poh! poh! These bugbear oaths are children's toys,
Mere scare-crow buckram, to the big-souled men
Who do such mighty deeds. But you would say—
All quietly, in silent, breathless words—
My master and myself are in one boat,
And sink or swim together.—Would you not?

Pul.
I would be cautious.

Mar.
Doubtless, my wise boy!
Prudence and courage make a powerful yoke
To tug along the world.

Pul.
I take you, sir—
As rats are taken.—O! I slander rats.

[Aside.]
Mar.
But will you do it?

Pul.
By this hand, I will.

Mar.
I love to shake an honest comrade's hand.
There 's more gold, Pulti—millions, millions, boy—
And you shall share it. You shall revel out
A prince's ransom; live a gentleman,
And kick work to the devil. Hey! my trump!

Pul.
Who are these enemies?

Mar.
You long to see
The villains drink each other's healths?

Pul.
Ha! ha!
[Laughing.]
O! bless me, you are droll!

Mar.
These are our foes—
Yours, Pulti, and my own—that velvet Count,
That clothes-pin, modish Count Juranio,
And signore Salvatore, carte and tierce,
The ruffian, with his beaver on one side,
Who swaggers through the world, and pushes all
That do not please him in the kennel. 'Sblood!
'T were no great harm to cut such fools adrift;
'T would save some lace a sunning, and give steel
A holy rest.

Pul.
Lord! how you draw them, sir!
Those very men have troubled me a deal.
Give me some ratsbane.

Mar.
Just before the feast,
I'll slip it in your hand. Be faithful, Pulti;
There 's no such gold as mine.

Pul.
Have faith in me.
May heaven forsake me, when I leave my master!

Mar.
Bring out the horses. I must back again:
My absence will be noted.

Pul.
Bless you, bless you!—
I find it in my heart to bless you, sir,
That you employed no one but me for this.

[Exit.]
Mar.
The knave 's a God-send! Who had ever thought
That little, crooked Marsio could wake
So warm a feeling in the breast of man?
Why, what a cat's-paw for my dangerous nut
The ready villain is! I never deemed
The monstrous wretch was crammed so full of sin:
He poisons at a hint. Heaven save you, Count!
My fiery lover, we will cool your blood:
Heaven save you, too, bold signore Salvatore!
My dashing swordsman, we will break your guard.
Heaven save you both together, gentlemen!
I'll bow you to your graves to-morrow morn!

[Exit.]

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Castle of the Marquis. Enter Salvatore and Pulti, meeting.
Pulti.
[Sings.]

Salvatore.
Why, Pulti, Pulti!

Pul.
Unearthed, at last! The fox has broken ground,
And I am holding to his brush—ho! ho!
[Laughing.]
Saint Dunstan's tongs were mercy to this hand.
O! but I have him!

Sal.
Pulti, are you crazed?

Pul.
Half mad with joy. Here is his precious plot—

Sal.
Whose plot?

Pul.
Why, Marsio's. What other fiend
Could shape one like it? Had you seen me, sir,
Just playing with him, like a well-hooked fish;
I gave him all my line.

Sal.
Now for the plot.

Pul.
Then tremble! Signore Marsio—Ho! ho!
[Laughing.]
The devil catch me! I must laugh it out.
Well, signore Marsio has hired me, me—
Me, me—his Pulti—do you understand?—
To poison you and Count Juranio.

Sal.
Ha!—Where, and how?

Pul.
O! at the feast to-night.

Sal.
In meat or wine?

Pul.
In wine. The merry ape
Would see you two pledging each other's healths;
Just for the joke's sake. Do you take it?

Sal.
Yes:
How the sky brightens after Marsio's thunder!
Bless his invention! I will match his coin.
Some paper, quickly.

Pul.
Here, sir.

[Showing paper, on a table.]
Sal.
Let me think.
Now, school of Padua, help thy dullest scholar
To mix a draught for Marsio. 'Ods blood!
I have not practised physic for so long,
That I scarce recollect the crooked things
Which stand for drachms and scruples.

Pul.
Never care
For scruples, only call the drachms to mind:
I long to dose him.

Sal.
Ah! I have it now:
It all comes back together. (Writes.)
Here we are;
Signed, Doctor Salvatore. Pulti, run—
Ask for the next apothecary—run!
Our time is short.

[Gives a paper.]
Pul.
Here is a full receipt
For all your poundings, master Marsio!

Sal.
You'll throw the drug in Marsio's cup. Fly, fly!
But where 's his poison? You must get me that.

Pul.
As soon as Marsio puts it in my hands.

Sal.
[Exit Pulti, singing.]

Sal.
Bright Cupid and dark Death
Join hands, in an unnatural fellowship,
Like morn and midnight at the northern pole;
But I can see a pathway, green with hope,
Beneath the twilight.

(Enter the Marquis di Tiburzzi.)
Marquis.
Can you spare a moment?

Sal.
Your question wrongs me: I would gladly spend
A lifetime in your service.

Marq.
I believe you:
Although men's tongues too oft outnoise their deeds,
And gain in clamor what they lose in aim.
When you approached me for my niece's hand,
I saw in you such manly qualities
As led me to receive you, not alone
As her best suitor, but as my best friend.
You are a man of action, I am not;
You are a man of hopeful vigor; cares
Soon dried my leaves of early promise up,
And age puts forth no more. Sir, I am old,
Feeble, and hopeless; I would have a friend.

Sal.
Confide in me.

Marq.
I need your confidence—
Not for myself; these gray hairs warn me oft
That I shall drop into my barren grave
Ere many seasons; but my daughter lives,
To blossom o'er my ruins, or to wither.
God only knows.

Sal.
To blossom, bear, and yield,
In holy sunshine!

Marq.
And you know her fate,—
Her vile betrothal to this Marsio?

Sal.
Did you not make it?

Marq.
No! they juggled me.
Her—Well, well, signore, I 'd not think of that.
Now, I would break the bond; but Marsio
Holds my ancestral debts, and threatens me
With whips and galleys. I could bear them all,
If that would free Costanza.

Sal.
Let me add
Another misery, then break the whole.
Your daughter loves Juranio.

Marq.
Gracious heaven!
Woe piles on woe! Had I a choice of men,
I would have picked him for her.

Sal.
Rightly too,
You would have picked the flower. Your simple word,
To follow, without flaw, what I design,
Shall free Costanza, wed her to the Count,
And ransom you.

Marq.
You mock me.

Sal.
Mock you!
No, no; I'll show you what I rest upon.

Marq.
You seem a sober man.

Sal.
To Marsio
I am fate's deputy. Crime gives a hold
Which rivets the transgressor to an end,
So helpless, that an infant's careless hand
May pull a giant to his doom.

Marq.
Crime!

Sal.
Crime.

Marq.
Dear heaven, might this be true! I know him cruel—
Ay, guilty—but not within the scope of law.

Sal.
Have I no credit?

Marq.
Yes; I yield you all—
My faith, my honor. Guide me as you list:
You cannot worst my chance.

Sal.
Then hear my tale—
More fitted to draw blood than tears, my lord:
That scheming crawler, Marsio, has hired
A man, who loves Juranio and myself,
To poison us.

Marq.
O, horror! Has the wretch
Such depths in his dark soul?

Sal.
It so appears.

Marq.
I'll hurl him from my windows! Shall a roof
That hung so long 'twixt heaven and noble men,
Fence off God's justice?

Sal.
Softly, sir, I pray!
He must attempt the poisoning, or we lose
Our grasp upon him.

Marq.
True. What cause can he
Set up to satisfy him with his crime?

Sal.
Against Juranio, 't is jealousy.

Marq.
I see. Your kinsman was the cavalier
Who met Costanza in the Park.

Sal.
No other:
And plead his suit most bravely, but in vain:
She made her love an offering for your life.

Marq.
Poor girl!

Sal.
Now, hear my mandates.

Marq.
But your plan—
What is your plan?

Sal.
It must unfold itself.
I have a shift for Marsio's every turn:
One lost, another wins.

Marq.
I am content.
'T is better with you; I have ever marred
Whate'er I touched. Lay your commands upon me.

Sal.
Provide a priest, and have such papers drawn,
As the law orders, to unite in wedlock
Costanza and Juranio. At the feast,
See you produce them when I call for them.

Marq.
It shall be done. O, signore Salvatore,
See you be well prepared upon your part.
I count my life as nothing; but my daughter,
My only daughter—Look you do not slip:
You might enrage, not foil, his villany;
And draw a double ruin on her head.

Sal.
Fear not; even now I hold such evidence
As makes the life of signore Marsio
Not worth a felon's claim. How Pulti tarries!
[Aside.]
You will pardon me, if I take leave, my lord?

Marq.
Go, signore, go. Ask me to pardon you!
God shield you, sir! You shall have all the prayers
My age may mutter, 'twixt the coming night
And that far darker night, towards which my steps,
By slow degrees, are narrowing to their end.

Sal.
Cheer, cheer, my lord! The shadows fly from us;
Day treads upon the dusky heels of night!
Even now my herald hopes fly far above,
Shaking the morning from their shining wings!
Ho! laugh, laugh, and be merry.

Marq.
Ha! ha! ha!
[Laughing.]
Your hearty courage is infectious, sir!

[Exeunt severally.]

SCENE III.

Another Room in the Castle. Enter Costanza and Filippia.
Filippia.
[Sings.]

Costanza.
Woful cheer!

Fil.
Why, what' s the matter, cousin? How you droop!
Here 's a strange countenance for a festival!
Take my advice; follow your honest heart;
For those who oftenest trust their knavish heads
Are oftenest led by a fool's bauble. Run,
Run for dear life! Away, girl, Count and all!
I'll cover your retreat.

Cos.
This mockery
Is cruel and useless. How my doom draws on!
It seems to me as if the viewless hours
Have changed themselves to some substantial thing,
And I can hear them roaring by my ears,
Like a vast tide,—alas! alas! how swiftly!

Fil.
Did she but know how gayly nimble Time
Is floating on Love's shallop, she would kiss
The slandered gray-beard. I will tell her. No;
'T is Salvatore's secret. [Aside.]


Cos.
Cousin, cousin,
I cannot marry Marsio! Each step
That brings me nearer to him shows the man
More hideous; and, alas!—I tell you all—
Contrast makes Count Juranio appear
Almost a god to him.

Fil.
Why, so he is;
And so is any other honest man.
Marsio 's no man; Marsio 's an outcast imp,
Banished among us for such evil deeds
As set the fiends to staring!

Cos.
Misery!
Have you no word of comfort? I implore
Your kindlier feelings, and you meet my grief
With scoffs and jeers. Why do you not sustain
My tottering firmness? Has my lot become
Too low, too mean, for pity? Must I stand
By my own power? So be it, then; I'll stand,
Though my heart break within me!

Fil.
I must tell her.

(Enter Salvatore. Filippia and Salvatore talk apart.)
Salvatore.
Have you kept counsel?

Fil.
By the hardest, though.
Don't glare at me. I have obeyed you, tyrant.
Lord! if you frown so at the maid, the wife
Must feed her love on cudgels!

Sal.
Peace, peace, peace!
Your love shall have sound diet. It was well—
Look you, Filippia—it was well I came.

Fil.
'T is always well when Salvatore comes.

Sal.
Bah! you mad witch! I love you fearfully.

Fil.
And so you show it. I can never tell,
When you come nigh me, whether you intend
To cut my throat or kiss me.

Sal.
Instance this.

[Kisses her.]
Fil.
I know not yet.

Sal.
Till you are satisfied,
I'll smother you in kisses. [Kisses her.]


Fil.
Ruffian, stop!
Look at my ruffle. O! had you rude men
To do our starching! Woo me by main strength!

Sal.
Out on your arts! Your wicked witchery
Makes me forget myself—your cousin too.

Fil.
She did not note you.

Sal.
I must speak with her.
[Advances to Costanza.]
Lady Costanza, dare you trust your honor
In my poor hands?

Cos.
Had I a fear of it,
There I should place it.

Fil.
Justly spoken, cousin!
Make him your fate. See what I gain by it,—
A crumpled ruffle, and a bleeding lip.

Sal.
Time presses; I must through at once.

[Aside.]
Fil.
Well, well!
Here 's better than yourself to whisper to.

Sal.
Lady Costanza, without argument,
Give me your word to do as I direct,
And I engage to scatter your worst fears,
And crown your brightest hopes with full success.
I hold your future in my happy hands:
My power is ample, and my purpose just.
For—mark this, lady—should I trench upon
Your nicest honor, by the act, I free you
From any compact.

Cos.
Signore Salvatore,
You mean this kindly, and I take it so,
But know it baseless.

Sal.
Only promise.

Fil.
Do!

Cos.
'T is said that drowning beggars sometimes vow
Rich churches to the saint who'll spare their lives;
So I—passing my word upon your terms—
Promise, if you fulfil your marvellous pledge,
That which defies our voluntary power—
My dearest love.

Fil.
Poh! poh! Costanza, “love!”
O! what a doleful effort to be gay!
Pray, use some cooler term—the man is mine—
Say friendship, or affection, or the like:
I dread your rivalry.

Sal.
Filippia lays
Our serious feelings, as if they were devils.

Fil.
He takes her part! Now I am jealous, sir.
Come, lead her off from this sad theme.

[Apart to Salvatore.]
Sal.
Alas!
Here comes the theme itself.

(Enter Marsio and Juranio.)
Marsio.
Pray, look you, ladies;
Here is he that once was Count Juranio;
But, now, how fallen, how spent and spiritless!
I tried an hour to work a smile from him,
But lost my labor.

Fil.
What 's the trouble, Count?

Sal.
Are you a man? [Apart to Juranio.]


Juranio.
There is the misery,
That I am man; would I were more or less!

[Aside.]
Mar.
I even took him to your bower, Costanza;
Showed what a lurking-place for love it is;
Pointed your favorite flowers; glanced here and there,
Omitting nothing: but he never smiled.
Then I went through my plans of wedded bliss;
Told him how soon my marriage-day would come;
Invited him to see it.—On my faith,
Methinks I turned a prophet, for his sake—
Did I not, Count?—and in a vision saw
My stretching line of noble progeny.
I named them too—ha! ha! I named them for him!
[Laughing.]
Called one Juranio. Striving thus to cheer
His melancholy with my happiness:
But yet he never smiled. When he would speak,
'T was only “Marsio, O! were I you!”
And then he 'd blush, and catch his sentence up
With—“I 'd do so and so”—some petty thing,
Beneath my memory. Even now he talked,
So sweetly talked, of “Death, dear, pleasant death!
What a kind thing it is that weary men,
After the jading day of eager life,
Can lay them gently in their earthy beds,
And sleep their cares away!” So well he spoke,
That, for his eloquence, I nearly killed him,
Out of sheer pity.

Sal.
What a man is this!
But justice' arm is up. [Aside.]


(Filippia, Juranio, and Salvatore, talk apart.)
Mar.
(Apart to Costanza.)
They tell me, lady,
You were insulted in the Park, to-day,
By some presuming dunce's love.—Nay, nay;
Come here. They say you used him bravely, too,
As I would wish you.

Cos.
Ha! he knows it all:
I see such meaning in his face. I fear—
[Aside.]
A word, sir, with Juranio.

Mar.
With whom?

Cos.
With Count Juranio.

Mar.
Not a whisper. Lady,
We mostly add men's titles to their names.

(Enter a Servant.)
Servant.
My lord awaits you, gentlemen.

Mar.
On, on!
The feast invites us. Count Juranio,
We'll drown your gloomy humors in our wine.
Come, gentlemen. To-night is lovers' eve—
Conduct your lady, signore Salvatore;
I too will use the time's sweet privilege:
Think me not rude, Count. By your leave, Costanza.

[Exit with Costanza.]
Sal.
You promise me?

Ju.
Ay; use me as you will:
I lack employment for myself.

Sal.
Go on.

Fil.
Without you, signore?

Sal.
Yes.—Make some excuse.
O! where is Pulti? Fate hangs on his steps!

[Exeunt on one side, Filippia and Juranio; on the other, Salvatore.]

SCENE IV.

An Ante-Room in the Castle. Enter Pulti.
Pulti.
(Sings.)
With each grain of Heaven's goodness,
I will mix one of woodness,
And ten solid grains of pure evil;
Do whatever you can,
You must bolt all, my man,
Or starve, quoth to Adam the devil.

(Enter Salvatore.)
Salvatore.
Your fiendish ditty is a guide, at least.
Well met! Your news?

Pul.
I barely saved my time.
The guests are down, and I am sent to seek you.

Sal.
Is the cup drugged?

Pul.
I mixed the powders in,
And poured the wine around, ere I came off.

Sal.
Two powders?

Pul.
Two.

Sal.
Victoria! The one
Shall rack him shrewdly, with a piercing colic,
Until the opiate act; when he will fall,
Upon a sudden, in a torpid stupor,
Which will so balance between life and death,
That but a feather's weight might turn the beam,
And land him in eternity.

Pul.
It might?
I am no feather, and, by all I love,
I'll leap into the balance bodily.

Sal.
No, Pulti; I 've not closed with Marsio.
To-morrow I must buy the Marquis' debts,
On my own terms; death would upset my bargain.

Pul.
Here 's Marsio's poison.

[Gives the vial.]
Sal.
Precious, precious vial!
You hold the happiness of two dear hearts
Pent in your narrow compass!

Pul.
Is that all?
Methinks it comes to little, when 't is brought
Down to a liquid form. Had I believed
A lover's prophecies upon this point,
I 'd have been fool enough to build an ark,
Against a second deluge. What a close
To all your rhapsodies! Here 's a scant bath
For a foul fly!

Sal.
Enough to drown your wit.

Pul.
If that 's the substance of love's happiness,
Pray trust it to my handling. I will bear it,
As friars do rare relics, through the land,
To strengthen bachelors in their religion.

Sal.
Prodigious atheist!

Pul.
Holy maniac!
Now, which is better, a sound infidel,
Or a cracked devotee? Let Heaven decide.

Sal.
Back to your master, knave! his fellowship
Sorts with your feelings.

Pul.
'T is a doleful thing,
That our gay world can yield a healthy man
No company but lunatics or rogues:
The wise are villains, and the honest fools.
Lord! what a raking mid the weeds there is,
To find one modest flower in all the crop!

Sal.
I prophecy a cardinal's cap for you,
If you will preach thus in the market-place.
I must be off. O, Pulti, Pulti, Pulti,
If ever man loved man, I dote on you!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V.

The Great Hall of the Castle. A feast spread. At which are seated the Marquis and Marchioness di Tiburzzi, Marsio, Costanza, Filippia, Juranio, and other Guests. Servants in waiting. Enter Pulti, and stands behind Marsio. Then enter Salvatore, and seats himself.
Marquis.
We wait you, signore.

Salvatore.
Pardon my delay:
My need was urgent.

Marsio.
I have kept the wine.
Our cups, o'erbrimming with the sunny juice,
Stand to attend you.

Sal.
'T was a needless pause.
I never taste the vintage. By your leave,
I'll use the grape, as nature gives it to us,
Thus, in the ripened fruit. For I hold wine
To be a most ingenious fraud of Satan's;
Who is so ready to change Heaven's best gifts
Into some tempting form of sin. 'T is true
A healthy apple cozened mother Eve;
But I have wondered at that barefaced trick
Upon the simple woman. Why did not
The guileful devil change it into cider,
And gull her handsomely? My kinsman, too,
Is of my way of thinking.

Juranio.
I! what, I!
Why, Salvatore, I would quaff a sea
Of the rich earthly Lethe, were our night
Stretched to a polar length.

Mar.
You hear him, sir:
The Count is wild for wassail. You will not
Refuse my lady's health? 'Sblood! should this dog
Lap water only? Pulti, is it done?

[Apart to Pulti.]
Pulti.
You'll find it so.—Ho! ho!—

[Laughing.]
Mar.
Hist! be discreet.

[Apart to Pulti.]
Sal.
I will not balk you, to be curious.
A toast, a toast!

Mar.
Rise, sirs. Our union!

[They drink.]
Sal.
Simple and pregnant. Cleopatra's pearl
Suffers discredit by your tasteful pledge.
I drank it, with good relish, to the dregs;
Ay, and forgot my enmity to wine,
In seeing with what gust you boused it down.

Mar.
You flatter me. Your kinsman holds his peace:
I hope I touched him.

Sal.
Him! Why, look you, now;
His cup is dry,—the very moisture gone:
Heavens! what a fiery thirst!

Costanza.
Your lover's spirits
Mount to a wondrous height. It makes one sad
To see a man so merry.

Filippia.
Wait a while,
And his high spirits shall fly off with you.

Cos.
You have a hopeful fancy: it must be
A sorry thing to mark its failures.

Fil.
No;
I have fresh hopes to help the lame ones on.
They are like flowers that, dying, run to seed,
And multiply the race.—See, Marsio!

March.
What is the matter, signore?

Mar.
Nothing, nothing:
A passing pain.

Sal.
You drink too eagerly.
A sudden rush of wine into the frame
Shakes it with spasms sometimes.

Mar.
Are you a leech?
Physic yourself—'Sblood!

March.
Signore!—

Mar.
I am ill.

[They all rise.]
Sal.
Pray will you test my leechcraft?

Mar.
I feel faint.
Nay; I am stronger now. Come hither, Pulti.
What does this mean?

Pul.
I cannot tell.

Mar.
Those men,
Those devilish villains—Pulti, do you see them?—
Look well and merry. Ere this time, the snakes
Should have crawled homeward, with their venom in.
The poison but fulfils what nature skipt:
While I—Augh! Pulti—

[Apart to Pulti.]
Pul.
Let me see. (Runs to the table.)
O, Lord!
O! signore Marsio is poisoned! O!
The cups are changed. You drank the—

Mar.
Traitor, hold!
Or I will cut you to the belt!

March.
Good heaven!
Poisoned?

Marq.
Is this your plot? You—

Sal.
Wait the issue.

[Apart to the Marquis.]
March.
Run, run—a doctor!

Mar.
Forty thousand doctors
Were forty thousand short.

Cos.
How feel you, signore?

Mar.
Out! smooth drab!—O!—O!

Sal.
You have sprung the trap,
But caught yourself for game.

Mar.
Who did this thing?

Sal.
I.

Mar.
Hear! he confesses it. Seize on them—
Juranio and that man—my murderers!

March.
Ay; seize them, seize them!

[The Guests draw.]
Sal.
Patience, gentlemen,
I make you no resistance. On my honor,
I will not try to fly.

Mar.
A poisoner's honor!
Mercy, what a pang! 'Sdeath! an officer—
Send for an officer! Quick, quick—break up—
I do denounce them both—we'll have no feast!

Sal.
Ay, but we will; a marriage, too.

Mar.
How, how?

Sal.
We'll use Juranio, when you are gone.

Mar.
Ah, dog! may your tongue rot!

Sal.
Before you, signore?

Mar.
Silence the miscreant! Are you men, to see—
O, heaven! these pains!

Ju.
What means this, Salvatore?

Sal.
Peace, my dear boy; the time is mine.

Mar.
You think—
You two—your countship and that pliant lady—
You think, I say, when the grave swallows me,
To wed?—Ha! do ye? If the dead can rise—
And I will up! I'll haunt you till ye pray
To sleep beside me. I will crawl between
Your eager kisses with my wormy lips;
I'll eat with you; I'll drink—I'll drink again—
O, heaven! some water, water! I consume—
Till all my flesh has rotted from me. Gods!
Ha! ha! I'll make a merry guest! You wretch—
Now I feel easier—you Salvatore,
I'll fight with you, through all your odious days,
Until I drive you in your grave. O! curse you!
Do I look better? I may yet be well.
O! O! these searching cramps! Where do you go?
Come back, I say! I will not die alone!
I do denounce them—Pulti, Pulti too.
Seize them—seize all! Have pity on me, Heaven!
I will—I will!—The room is full of smoke.
Cut down the poisoners! I am not dead yet!
[Draws, rushes at Juranio, and falls.]
O! mercy, heaven! O! curse you—O!

[Faints.]
Sal.
Well done!
He shows his death-bed in perspective.

March.
Base,
Base man, to glory in your victim's death!
Sirs, apprehend him.

[The Guests advance.]
Sal.
Gently, gentlemen—
I use my cutlery with the best of you—
Marsio 's not dead. A simple opiate
Caused all this terror.

Fil.
'T is ill news, but true.
Find out some den to keep this monster in.

[Servants carry off Marsio.]
Sal.
Wake from your apathy! You stand like marble.

Cos.
I never dreamed such horrors.

Ju.
What, not dead?

March.
O! joy, joy, joy!

Sal.
Call in your priest and notary.
Are they in waiting?

Marq.
As I promised you.
But I can scarcely see my way through this.

(Enter a Priest and a Notary.)
Sal.
I am your pilot: trust me.

Marq.
As you will.

Sal.
Now sign this paper, lady; and you, Count.
'T is hasty, not dishonorable. Keep faith.

Cos.
How, sir!

Ju.
But, Salvatore, Marsio lives.

Sal.
He lives a felon! And I roundly swear,
If you two people are not wed to-night,
I'll have him hung upon a moving gallows,
And wheel him after you around the world.
I'll have no trifling.

March.
Marsio a felon!

Sal.
He sought to poison Count Juranio,
And honored me by joining me with him.
Where are you, Pulti?

Pulti.
Here, sir. Room, room, room,
For Marsio's prime minister of drugs!
This vial, and my oath, might go some lengths
To speed his journey to a hotter world.
Advance my relique!

[Salvatore shows the vial.]
March.
O! the horrid viper!
What an escape poor, dear Costanza made!

Sal.
You still hang back?

Cos.
My father still is bound.

Sal.
He is well cared for. Ere another day,
I pledge myself to buy your father's debts
At my own price. 'Sdeath! do you falter now?
My lord, your promise.

Marq.
I command you, daughter:
Obey my friend.

March.
Is Count Juranio rich?

[Apart to the Marquis.]
Marq.
Pshaw! madam.

Cos.
I obey—perhaps too kindly;
But the mere thought of your security
Sends my heart upward, like a loosened bird,
Dizzy with hope, and strength, and ecstasy;
For I am free again! (Turns to Salvatore.)
To you I owe
More than a common show of gratitude;
But, now, forgive me; my o'erflowing thoughts
Would drown the happy prospect of my speech,
By sheer abundance of their offerings.
To you, Juranio—

Ju.
Nay, dear Costanza,
Let my heart whisper what your words might be.

Sal.
Hide all your roses in your lover's breast.
Go talk it over, go—we'll never look—
Then come to us, and notary and priest
Shall knit you up.

Ju.
Dear kinsman—

Sal.
Silence, sir!
This place is nauseous with stale sentiment.
Mind your affairs; I 've business of my own.
Fair lady, have I won?

Fil.
Yes, Salvatore.
[Giving her hand.]
Would it were worthier!

Sal.
Not for my sake, love:
You cannot add a morsel to content.

Marq.
Peace crown you all! I have such friends, at last,
As money could not buy—the gifts of heaven:
I thank it humbly. As for Marsio,
He'll wake to-morrow, and behold what gulfs
Crime opens 'twixt the richest criminal
And the frank brotherhood of honest men,
However poor,—gulfs that must yawn forever!