University of Virginia Library

TASSO AND THE SISTERS:

A CONVERSATION.

A Room in the Prince of Mantua's Palace—a Harp in the centre.
Enter the Prince, Tasso, Isabel, Bertha, Florence.
GONZAGA.
Let sage Philosophy come fenc'd in proof;
O'er her strong armour put the toga on;
Gird on her loins the sword of Disputation—
Wisdom her shield, her potent weapons Words:
And, thus accoutred, let her take the field,
Defying opposition:—upon this
Send but young Beauty forth, in smiles array'd,
And you will see Philosophy grow mute
And pale for very shame of her own weakness,
Whilst Beauty on her downcast face shall look
And laugh in triumph.

TASSO.
'Twere a fruitless task
To mention ought against fair Beauty's pow'r,
Whilst such a host of sparkling eyes are near
To prove her sov'reignty, and all I might
Urge in good Reason's cause to render vain,
Her truth to dulness turning: therefore rail
Against Philosophy e'en as you will—
I heed her not.

GONZAGA.
Poor Maiden! she hath lost
A strong defender then, and Beauty should
Make loud rejoicings, as beseems a victress.—
Come, sing to us, sweet Florence!

FLORENCE.
Nay, my Lord!
Let Isabel, or Bertha—I will not:
Better than Florence can they please the ear.

GONZAGA.
Be not so modest, prithee, gentle dame!
I pray you sing.

FLORENCE.
Indeed I cannot now:
My voice is unmelodious to-day.

GONZAGA.
How sweet is soft persuasion to a woman!
I pray you sing, sweet Florence! and delight
Earth and the air with music not their own,
But of the Heavens.—Are you not civil yet?
Come—Bertha, Isabel, and Tasso, you,
Entreat her for a song.

ISABEL.
Dear Sister, sing!
You never look so well as o'er the harp.

BERTHA.
Sing, dearest Girl! for we are all athirst
For some blest harmony, which you so well
Can steep the senses in.

TASSO.
Kind Florence, sing!
Or we shall deem you grown morose of late,
And loath to charm.

FLORENCE.
To Tasso's pray'rs I yield;
For when Philosophy doth stoop, 'tis mete
That all her fancies should be pleas'd awhile.

[She plays and sings.
GONZAGA.
A pleasing lay, for one that could not sing,
Because her voice was most unmusical:
Why! the gay lark, forsooth, will soon assert
She hath no melody wherewith to greet
The skies at morn. But, Bertha! sing you now,
And let us know that we have little cause
To pay regard to what the lark can do:—
Oh! let her warble in Aurora's air,
Or sulk upon the ground—the same to us,
Whilst such a songstress as fair Bertha lives
To glad the earth with sweeter harmony.

BERTHA.
The prince Gonzaga is poetical,
And the so fluent accents of his tongue
Must make my following voice but weak appear.
What song would'st have?

TASSO.
Of Echo and the Boy
Himself who slew, because he could not clasp
His own reflected image in the brook,
And turn'd into a flower.

BERTHA.
My fav'rite one!

[She plays and sings.
TASSO.
The music of your voice did Echo hear,
Most lovely Bertha! in repeating all
Its sounds of melody, she would forget
E'en her Narcissus, and bewail no more.

FLORENCE.
In troth, she would; and Pan would cease to love
The cruel maid in vain, and in her stead
Would worship the bright Goddess of these sounds.

BERTHA.
Now for your song, my Isabel!

GONZAGA.
Dear girl!
Give us a loftier strain than these have sung—
I tire of love-notes.

ISABEL.
Then my song shall be
Of merry quality: attend—'tis this.

[She plays and sings.
GONZAGA.
'Tis well there are no rocks, or quicksands here,
For those who listen to such siren notes:
Could th' Island-Goddess but have warbled so,
Ulysses had not thought of Ithaca,
Or his chaste spouse; but near her burning heart
His head he still had lain, intoxicate
With beauty and with melody!

ISABEL.
How well
A speech for all doth Lord Gonzaga frame!
Had sage Ulysses blest Calypso's love
With words thus eloquent, she would have died
(Immortal tho' she seem'd) whene'er he left
Her sea-girt kingdom. See you there, my Lord!
Why—these are words as lofty as your own,
And true as they.

GONZAGA.
A wicked girl are you—
So in the darkness of your eyes I read.

ISABEL.
You read it in the darkness of my eye!
Are dark eyes wicked then?

GONZAGA.
I never knew
A dark-eyed girl that lov'd not wickedness;
Dark eyes are Passion's palaces, and passion—
Say, is it virtue, Isabel?

ISABEL.
But blue—

FLORENCE.
No treason, Sister! not a word against them:
Of innocence do blue eyes ever speak.

BERTHA.
And truth.

FLORENCE.
And goodness.

GONZAGA.
Stay—I thought 'twas thus,
Until I gaz'd upon two ladies' eyes
Of naughty blue; but since that evil hour
I've thought a dark eye has less mischief in't,
Than one of azure.

BERTHA.
Oh! most wicked speech:
Let Tasso judge between them, and decide
If dark, or blue should have pre-eminence.

TASSO.
Those seeking justice then must quit the court;
Or else the Judge's wisdom would be fixed
So much 'twixt lovely light and lighted darkness,
That he dare give the preference unto neither—
Being spell-bound.

ISABEL.
Awhile we'll leave you then,
Most prudent Judge! your sentence well to weigh,
Ere you do speak it.

TASSO.
That were bootless too;
For, ere I could decide, I should require
So much of weighty argument to hear
On either part, that Time could not afford
Enough of his existence for our purpose.

GONZAGA.
We'll try the cause hereafter. Tasso! now
Choose, of this lovely sisterhood, the one
With whom you'd tarry; for the other twain
With me must come, that it declared may be,
The Graces once have parted.

FLORENCE.
Scrup'lous Judge!
See—thou'rt constrained to let your wisdom forth.

TASSO.
When the three Goddesses, on Ida's top,
Appear'd in nakedness divine, to make
The Shepherd judge of their eternal beauty—
He was a fool the golden prize to yield
To one;—he should have made the whole three parts,
And given to each a part, rather than bring
On his devoted head the wrath of two,
To make one prouder of her loveliness.
Therefore all three I purpose to detain
Of these scarce less than Goddesses, and forth
In solitude the Prince of Mantua send.

GONZAGA.
The envied prize did Paris surely give
To Venus, but to rid him of all three
Of those his heavenly pleaders,—and 'tis strange
That you should covet these mere mortal maids:
I gladly leave them, and commit you, Tasso,
To a worse fate than that of Ida's boy:—
Blue eyes are dang'rous in their innocence,
And dark ones apt to lead the soul astray!

[Exit.
ISABEL.
Oh, sacrilegious Lord!

TASSO.
Spare him, fair Isabel!
If you would be reveng'd, you can but close
The eyes he dares to rail at.

FLORENCE.
Dulcet flatterer!
Like you these bracelets which my sister wears,
Clinging and sparkling round her wrist?

TASSO.
Why—aye;
They glitter bravely—but the arms adorn'd
Do far surpass in beauty their adornment;
And each bright ornament must shine in vain,
When bound on so much whiteness. That blue robe
Which Florence wears—came it from Fairyland?

ISABEL.
'Tis rumor'd so, and that the Elfin queen
Did weave it all herself.

TASSO.
'Twas kindly done;
For mortal weeds, methinks, but ill would sit
On one so sylph-like.

BERTHA.
True: but, gallant Tasso!
I pray you leave me not unnotic'd here,
These flowers—do they the color of my hair become;
Or would you have them of a darker tint?

TASSO.
Sure you but wear them to display how poor
Are Flora's charms to thine—Oh! shew them not
Where gay Favonius may be revelling;
Lest he should learn to pass his Mistress o'er
With dull indifference, tho' dizen'd out
E'en in her May-dress; make her jealous grow,
And cover all her kingdom with sad tears,
Which men, unweeting of the Goddess' grief,
Would take for brightest dew-drops!

BERTHA.
Tasso loves
His cunning Fancy at all hours to show,
And, flattering others, proves his own conceit.

ISABEL.
True, Sister mine! and these fine things he says
No doubt he hath a thousand times conn'd o'er,
To suit the first occasion.

FLORENCE.
As a child
Its early lessons.

TASSO.
Prince! your words were true.
Oh, happy Son of Hecuba! how blest
Thy lot: thy heavenly visitants, for thee,
Of smiles and blandishments were full; but mine
With cruel words do pierce me to the heart—
With most ungracious accusations.

BERTHA.
Peace!
Nor murmur at the fate your speech deserves.
But, I beseech you, tell me if these flowers
Well with my hair accord.

TASSO.
So well, in truth,
That or a lighter, or a darker shade,
Given to one hue, would mar their general beauty—
So just and elegant is your discernment.

BERTHA.
And yours to think so—as a thing of course.

ISABEL.
I must disturb this parley: it grows late,
And we have mischief to contrive at Julia's.

FLORENCE.
Truly, good lack! 'tis pity, too, to leave
The eloquence that flows from Tasso's tongue,
For an old woman's prattle.

BERTHA.
Yes, indeed—
And his sincerity, for heartless words
That tend to nothing.

ISABEL.
And the soften'd speech
That calls us angels, for mere common talk.
Let us e'en weep!

TASSO.
Sweet Satirists! 'tis I
Alone for sorrow that can have good cause,
For what avails the eloquence of words
When none are near to hear them?

FLORENCE.
We lament
To make you woful—but are forc'd to go.

TASSO.
Stay yet awhile! I have a casket here,
Which holds some trinkets of but little worth,
And I would seek to have that worth increas'd
In being worn by three such lovely forms:
This ring, sweet Isabel! I give to you,
To grace it with a place on that fair hand
Amongst those other jewels, which outshine
Its feeble lustre, as your beauty all.
This string of pearls I would have Bertha honor
By the mere wearing near her damask cheek,
To you, fair Florence, with the laughing eye!
This girdle I present, which, when 'tis clasp'd
Around your azure vestment, will become
More rare and magical than Venus' zone.

FLORENCE.
Come, all ye Junos! then, and court my favor:
My garb's of fairy texture, and this band
As Cytherea's powerful.—Give me joy!

ISABEL.
And me as well: for, see! what radiance dwells
Enshrin'd about me! it doth dim the glow
Of this bright ring—at least, so Tasso says.

BERTHA.
Now, Flora! keep your Zephyrus away;
Lest he should love among these beads to live,
Scorning the splendor of your varied charms.

TASSO.
Fine sentences, and of th' utterers worthy!
Would that the Prince were here, with mete reply
T'encounter them.

ISABEL.
Because, alas! you cannot.
Most exquisite Humility! farewell.

BERTHA.
Pattern of lowliness and truth, farewell!

FLORENCE.
Meekness personified! farewell.

TASSO.
Wit, Grace
And Loveliness, dress'd out in female forms
To captivate the senses, fare ye well!

[Exeunt severally.