University of Virginia Library

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.]