University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

—A Room in the Palace.
Enter Olivia and Ludovico, R. H.
Lud.
Dispose of it as I instructed you;
(Giving her the king's picture.)
You know that I have pledged myself to make
Vicentio yours. To-day yourself have given
The means to turn that promise into deed.

Oliv.
My own heart
Tells me, 'tis a bad office I have ta'en;
But this unhappy passion drives me on,
And makes my soul your thrall—Thus I have crept
Obedient to your counsels, meanly crept
Into Evadne's soft, and trusting heart,
And coiled myself around her—Thus, my lord,
Have I obtained the page of amorous sighs
That you enjoined me to secure—I own
'Twas a false deed, but I am gone too far
To seek retreat, and will obey you still.

Lud.
And I will crown your passion with the flowers
Of Hymen's yellow garland—Trust me, Olivia,
That once dissevered from Evadne's love,
He will soon be taught to prize your nobler frame,
And more enkindled beauty—Well, 'tis known
Ere he beheld the sorceress
He deemed you fairest of created things,
And would have proffered love, had not—

Oliv.
I pray you,
With gems of flattery do not disturb
The fount of bitterness within my soul;—
For dropped tho' ne'er so nicely, they but stir
The poisoned waters as they fall.—I have said
I will obey you.

Lud.
With this innocent page
Will I light up a fire within Vicentio,—
But you must keep it flaming;—I have ta'en
Apt means to drive him into jealousy.
By scattering rumours (which have reached his ear)
Before he comes to Naples,—e'en in Florence
Have I prepared his soft and yielding mind
To take the seal that I would fix upon it.
I do expect him with the fleeting hour,—
For, to my presence he must come to bear
His embassy's commission, and be sure
He leaves me with a poison in his heart,
Evadne's lips shall never suck away.

Oliv.
Then will I hence, and if 'tis possible,
Your bidding shall be done.—Vicentio!

Enter Vicentio, R. H.
Vic.
Hail to my lord!

Lud.
Welcome, Vicentio!
I have not clasp'd your hand this many a day!
Welcome from Florence. In your absence, sir,
Time seemed to have lost his feathers.

Vic.
It was kind
To waste a thought upon me.—Fair Olivia,
Florence hath dimmed mine eyes, or I must else
Have seen a sun-beam sooner.— (Crosses to centre.)
—Fair Olivia,
How does your lovely friend?

Oliv.
What friend, my lord?

Vic.
I trust nought evil hath befallen Evadne,
That you should feign to understand me not
How does my beautiful and plighted love?

Oliv.
How does she, sir? I pray you, my good lord
To ask such tender question of the king.

[Exit, L. H.
Vic.
What meant she by the king?

(Aside.)
Lud.
You seem, Vicentio,
O'ershadowed with reflection—should you
Not have used some soft detaining phrase to one,
Who should at least be pitied?

Vic.
I came here
To re-deliver to your hands, my lord,
The high commission of mine embassy,
That long delayed my marriage. You, I deem
My creditor, in having used your sway
In my recall to Naples.

Lud.
In return for such small service,
I hope
That you will not forget Ludovico,
When in the troop of thronging worshippers,
At distance you behold his stooping plume
Bend in humility.

Vic.
What means my lord?

Lud.
Act not this ignorance—your glorious fortune
Hath filled the common mouth—
Your image stands already in the mart
Of pictured ridicule.—Come, do not wear
The look of studied wonderment—you know
Howe'er I stand upon the highest place
In the king's favour, that you will full soon
Supplant the poor Ludovico.

Vic.
I am no Œdipus.

Lud.
You would have me speak in simpler phrase; Vicentio,
You are to be the favourite of the king.

Vic.
The favourite of the king!

Lud.
Certes, Vicentio.
In our Italian courts, the generous husband
Receives his monarch's recompensing smile,
That with alchymic power, can turn the mass
Of dull opprobrious shame, to one bright heap
Of honour and emolument.
I bid you joy, my lord—why, how is this?
Do you not yet conceive me? Know you not
You are to wed the mistress of the king?
Colonna's sister—aye, I have said it, sir,—
Now, do you understand me?

Vic.
Villain, thou liest!

Lud.
What? are you not to marry her?

Vic.
Thou liest;
Tho' thou wert ten times what thou art already,
Not all the laurels heaped upon thy head
Should save thee from the lightnings of my wrath!

Lud.
If it were my will,
The movement of my hand should beckon death
To thy presumption. But I have proved too oft
I bore a fearless heart, to think you dare
To call me coward—and I am too wise
To think I can revenge an injury
By giving you my life. But I compassionate,
Nay, I have learned to esteem thee for a wrath,
That speaks thy noble nature.
Fare thee well!
(Crosses to L. H.)
Thy pulse is now too fevered for the cure
I honestly intended—yet, before
I part, here take this satisfying proof
Of what a woman's made of.

(Gives him a letter.)
Vic.
It is her character!
Hast thou shed phosphor on the innocent page,
That it has turned to fire?

Lud.
Thou hast thy fate.

Vic.
'Tis signed, “Evadne.”

Lud.
Yes, it is—farewell!

Vic.
For heaven's sake, hear me.—Stay.—Oh, pardon me
For the rash utterance of a frantic man—
Speak! in mercy speak!

Lud.
I will,
In mercy speak, indeed.—In mercy to
That fervid generosity of heart
That I behold within thee.

Vic.
From whom is this?

Lud.
From whom? look there!

Vic.
Evadne!

Lud.
'Tis written to the king and to my hand.
For he is proud of it, as if it were
A banner of high victory, he bore it,
To evidence his valour.—It is grown
His cup-theme now, and your Evadne's name
Is lisped with all the insolence on his tongue
Of satiated triumph—he exclaims—
The poor Vicentio!

Vic.
The poor Vicentio!

Lud.
What! shall he murder him?— (Aside.)
—no, no,—Colonna!
The poor Vicentio!—and he oftentimes
Cries, that he pities you!

Vic.
He pities me!

Lud.
I own that some time I was infidel
To all the bombast vaunting of the king,
But—

Vic.
'Tis Evadne!—I have gazed upon it,
In hope that with the glaring of mine eyes
I might burn out the false and treacherous word—
But, still 'tis there—no more—else will it turn
My brain to a red furnace,—Look you, my lord—
Thus as I rend the cursed evidence
Of that vile woman's falsehood—thus I cast
My love into the winds, and as I tread
Upon the poisoned fragments of the snake
That stings me into madness, thus, Ludovico,
Thus do I trample on her!

Lud.
Have you ne'er heard,
For 'twas so widely scattered in the voice
Of common rumour, that the very wind,
If it blew fair for Florence—

Vic.
I have heard
Some whispers, which I long had flung away
With an incredulous hatred from my heart—
But now, this testimony has conjured
All other circumstances in one vast heap
Of damned certainty!—Farewell, my lord—

(Crosses to L. H.)
Lud.
Hear me, Vicentio,
Vengeance is left you still—the deadliest too
That a false woman can be made to feel:
Take her example—be not satisfied
With casting her for ever from your heart,
But to the place that she has forfeited,
Exalt a lovelier than—but I perceive
You are not in a mood to hear me now—
Some other time, Vicentio—and, meanwhile,
Despite your first tempestuous suddenness,
You will think that I but meant your honour well
In this proceeding.

Vic.
I believe I owe you
That sort of desperate gratitude, my lord,
The dying patient owes the barbarous knife,
That delves in throes of mortal agony,
And tears the rooted cancer from his heart!

[Exeunt, L. H.

SCENE II.

—A Room in Colonna's Palace.
Enter Evadne, M. D. looking at a picture.
Evad.
'Tis strange he comes not! thro' the city's gates
His panting courser passed before the sun
Had climbed to his meridian, yet he comes not!—
Ah! Vicentio,
To know thee near me, yet behold thee not,
Is sadder than to think thee far away;
For I had rather that a thousand leagues
Of mountain ocean should dissever us,
Than thine own heart, Vicentio.—Sure, Vicentio,
If thou didst know with what a pining gaze
I feed mine eyes upon thine image here,
Thou wouldst not now leave thine Evadne's love
To this same cold idolatry.
Enter Olivia, unperceived, L. H. U. E.
I will swear
That smile's a false one, for it sweetly tells
No tarrying indifference.—Olivia!

Oliv.
I have stolen unperceived upon your hours
Of lonely meditation, and surprised
Your soft soliloquies to that fair face.—
Nay, do not blush—reserve that rosy dawn
For the soft pressure of Vicentio's lips.

Evad.
You mock me, fair Olivia,—I confess
That musing on my cold Vicentio's absence,
I quarrelled with the blameless ivory.

Oliv.
He was compelled as soon as he arrived,
To wait upon the great Ludovico;
Meanwhile your soft, expecting moments flow
In tender meditation on the face,
You dare to gaze upon in ivory
With fonder aspect, than when you behold
Its bright original; for then 'tis meet
Your pensive brows be bent upon the ground,
And sighs as soft as zephyrs on the wave
Should gently heave your heart.—Is it not so?
Nay, do not now rehearse your part, I pray;—
Reserve those downcast lookings for Vicentio;
That's a fair picture—let me, if you dare
Entrust the treasure to another's hand,
Let me look on it.
(Takes Vicentio's picture.)
What a sweetness plays
On those half-opened lips!—He gazed on you
When those bright eyes were painted.

Evad.
You have got
A heart so free of care, that you can mock
Your pensive friend with such light merriment.
But hark! I hear a step.

Oliv.
(Aside.)
Now fortune aid me
In her precipitation.

Evad.
It is himself!—
Olivia, he is coming.—Well I know
My Lord Vicentio hastens to mine eyes!
The picture—pr'ythee give it back to me—
I must constrain you to it.

Oliv.
(Who has substituted the picture of the king.)
It is in vain
To struggle with you then—with what a grasp
You rend it from my hand, as if it were
Vicentio that I had stolen away.
(Gives her the king's picture, which Evadne places in her bosom.)
I triumph!— (Aside.)
—He is coming—I must leave you,
Nor interrupt the meeting of your hearts
By my officious presence.

[Exit, L. H.
Evad.
It is himself!
Swiftly he passes through the colonnade,
Oh! Vicentio,
Thy coming bears me joy as bright as e'er
Beat thro' the heart of woman, that was made
For suffering, and for transport!—Oh, Vicentio!
Enter Vicentio, R. H.
Are you then come at last?—do I once more
Behold my bosom's lord, whose tender sight
Is necessary for my happiness
As light for heaven!—My lord!—Vicentio!—
I blush to speak the transport in my heart,
But I am rapt to see you.

Vic.
Dissembling woman!

(Aside.)
Evad.
How is this, my lord?
You look altered.

Vic.
But you do not look altered—would you did!
Let me peruse the face where loveliness
Stays, like the light after the sun is set.
Sphered in the stillness of those heaven-blue eyes,
The soul sits beautiful; the high white front,
Smooth as the brow of Pallas, seems a temple
Sacred to holy thinking! and those lips
Wear the sweet smile of sleeping infancy,
They are so innocent.—Oh! Evadne,
Thou art not altered—would thou wert!

Evad.
Vicentio,
This strangeness I scarce hoped for.—Say, Vicentio,
Has any ill befallen you?—I perceive
That its warm bloom hath parted from your cheek,
Ah me! you are not well, Vicentio.

Vic.
In sooth, I am not.—There is in my breast
A wound that mocks all cure—no salve, nor anodyne,
Nor medicinal herb, can e'er allay
The festering of that agonizing wound
You have driven into my heart!

Evad.
I?

Vic.
Why, Evadne,
Why did you ever tell me that you loved me?
Why was I not in mercy spurned away,
Scorned, like Ludovico? for unto him
You dealt in honour, and despised his love:
But me you soothed and flattered—sighed and blushed—
And smiled and wept, for you can weep; (even now
Your tears flow by volition, and your eyes
Convenient fountains have begun to gush,)
To stab me with a falsehood yet unknown
In falsest woman's perfidy?

Evad.
Vicentio,
Why am I thus accused? What have I done?

Vic.
What!—are you grown already an adept
In cold dissimulation? Have you stopped
All access from your heart into your face?
Do you not blush?

Evad.
I do, indeed, for you!

Vic.
The king?

Evad.
The king?

Vic.
Come, come, confess at once, and wear it high
Upon your towering forehead—swell your port—
Away with this unseemly bashfulness,
That will be deemed a savageness at court—
Confront the talking of the busy world—
Tell them you are the mistress of the king,
Tell them you are Colonna's sister too;
But hark you, madam—prithee do not say
You are Vicentio's wife!

(Crosses to L. H.)
Evad.
Injurious man!

Vic.
The very winds from the four parts of heaven
Blew it throughout the city—

Evad.
And if angels
Cried, trumpet-tongued, that I was false to you,
You should not have believed it.—You forget
Who dares to stain a woman's honesty,
Does her a wrong, as deadly as the brand
He fears upon himself.—Go, go, Vicentio—
You are not what I deemed you!—Mistress? fie!
Go, go, Vicentio! let me not behold
The man who has reviled me with a thought
Dishonouring as that one!— (Crosses to L. H.)
—Oh! Vicentio,
Do I deserve this of you?

Vic.
If I had wronged her!—

Evad.
I will not descend
To vindicate myself—dare to suspect me—
My lord, I am to guess that you came here,
To speak your soul's revolt, and to demand
Your plighted vows again.—If for this
You tarry here, I freely give you back
Your late repented faith—Farewell for ever!

(As she is going out, L. H.)
Vic.
Evadne!

Evad.
Well, my lord?—

Vic.
Evadne, stay!—

Evad.
Vicentio!

(With a look of reproaching remonstrance.)
Vic.
Let me look in thy face—
Oh! 'tis impossible!—I was bemocked,
And cheated by that villain!—nothing false
Sure ever looked like thee, and yet wilt thou
But swear—

Evad.
What should I swear?—

Vic.
That you did not
Betray me to the king

Evad.
Never!—

Vic.
Nor e'er
Didst write in love to him!

Evad.
Oh! never, never!—I perceive, Vicentio,
Some villain hath abused thy credulous ear—
But no!—I will not now inquire it of thee—
When I am calmer—I must hence betimes,
To chase these blots of sorrow from my face,—
For if Colonna should behold me weep,
So tenderly he loves me, that I fear
His hot, tempestuous nature—Why, Vicentio,
Do you still wrong me with a wildered eye
That sheds suspicion?

Vic.
I now remember
Another circumstance, Ludovico
Did tell me as I came—I do not see
My picture on her bosom.

(Aside.)
Evad.
Well, Vicentio?

Vic.
When I departed hence, about your neck
I hung my pictured likeness, which mine eyes,
Made keen by jealous vigilance, perchance
Desire upon your breast.

Evad.
And, is that all?
And in such fond and petty circumstance
Seek you suspicion's nourishment?—Vicentio,
I must disclose my weakness—here, Vicentio,
I have pillowed your dear image on a heart
You should not have distrusted.
(She draws the king's picture from her bosom.)
Here it is—
And now, my lord, suspect me, if you can.

Vic.
(Starting.)
A horrid phantom, more accursed than e'er
Yet crossed the sleep of frenzy, stares upon me—
Speak—speak at once—
Or—let it blast thee too.

Evad.
Sure some dark spell,
Some fearful witchery; I am struck to ashes,—
Amazement, like the lightning—give it me,
And I will fix it in my very eyes,
Clasp it against my sight—'Tis not Vicentio!—

Vic.
It is the king!—

Evad.
Oh! do not yield it faith,—
Give not thy senses credence! Oh, Vicentio,
I am confounded, maddened, lost, Vicentio!
Some dæmon paints it on the coloured air—
'Tis not reality that stares upon me!—
Oh! hide it from my sight!—

Vic.
Chance has betrayed thee,
And saves my periled honour—Here, thou all fraud,
Thou mass of painted perjury,—thou woman!—
And now I have done with thee, and pray to heaven
I ne'er may see thee more—But, hold!—
Recall that wish again—The time will come
When I would look on thee—then, Evadne, then,
When the world's scorn is on thee, let me see
Thee, old in youth, and bending 'neath the load
Of sorrow, not of time—then let me see thee,
And mayest thou, as I pass, lift up thy head
But once from the sad earth, and then Evadne,
Look down again for ever!

[Exit, R. H.
Enter Colonna, M. D. in time to see Vicentio go off.
(Evadne at first not perceiving that he is gone, and recovering from her stupefaction.)
Evad.
I will swear—
Give it back to me—Oh! I am innocent!
(She rushes up to Colonna, who advances to R. H. mistaking him for a moment for Vicentio.)
By heaven, I am innocent!

Col.
Who dares to doubt it,—
Who knows thee of that noble family
That cowardice in man, or wantonness
In woman never tarnished?—

Evad.
He is gone!—

(Aside.)
Col.
But how is this, Evadne? In your face
I read a wildered air has ta'en the place
Of that placidity that used to shine
For ever on thy holy countenance.

Evad.
Now, as I value my Vicentio's life—

Col.
One of love's summer clouds, I doubt me, sister,
Hath floated o'er you, tho' 'twere better far
That it had left no rain drops.—What has happened?

Evad.
There's nothing has befallen, only—

Col.
What, only?

Evad.
I pray your pardon me—I must begone!

Col.
Evadne, stay! let me behold you well—
Why do you stand at distance? nearer still,
Evadne!—

Evad.
Well?

Col.
Vicentio—

Evad.
(Assuming an affected lightness of manner.)
Why, Colonna—
Think you that I'm without my sex's arts,
And did not practise all the torturings
That make a woman's triumph?

Col.
'Twas not well.
I hoped thee raised above all artifice
That makes thy sex but infancy matured.
I was at first inclined to follow him,
And ask what this might mean?

Evad.
Then he had told
That I had played the tyrant.—Had you seen
How like my peevish lap-dog he appeared
Just beaten with a fan.—Ha! ha! Colonna,
You will find us all alike.—Ha! ha! my heart
Will break.

(Bursts into tears.)
Col.
Farewell!

Evad.
What would you do?

Col.
Let all the world
Hold me a slave, and hoard upon my head
Its gathered infamy—be all who bear
Colonna's name scorn-blighted—may disgrace
Gnaw off all honour from my family,
If I permit an injury to thee
To 'scape Colonna's vengeance!—

Evad.
Hold, my brother!
I will not leave thy sight!

Col.
Then follow me,
And if thou art abandoned, after all
Vicentio's plighted faith, thou shalt behold—
By heavens, an emperor should not do thee wrong,
Or if he did, tho' I had a thousand lives,
I had given them all to avenge thee.—I'll inquire
Into this business; and if I find
Thou hast lost a lover, I will give him proof,
I've my right arm, and thou thy brother still.

[Exeunt, R. H.