University of Virginia Library

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.