University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

To them Fulvia; Marcellus behind. Julia and Fulvia embrace.
FULVIA.
Lovely Julia,
In this embrace I hop'd to have clasp'd a daughter;
To have call'd thee mine, by an endearing tie,
That yields alone to nature's closest bond:
But though that fleet delusive dream is vanish'd,
With pride I own thy native excellence.
These eager throbbings, while I hold thee thus,
Are stronger protestations how I prize thee,
Than all the lavish praise my tongue could utter.

JULIA.
Here let me grow for ever, none divide us!
Methinks, when these protecting arms enfold me,
Long-vanish'd peace seems to return once more,
And spread her dove-like wings again to shield me.

MARCELLUS.
They told me truth, I never saw such beauty.

[aside, looking at Julia.
FULVIA.
Vile slander, on my life, has wrong'd her virtue.—
[aside.
Have I not seem'd unkind, so many months
A stranger here, where ever-new delight
Sprung in our paths; where each returning morn,
Among the happy, found me happiest?
But O, I fear'd for thee, and for myself;
Our walks, these chambers, every senseless object,
By known relation to our common loss,
Had conjur'd up to our accustom'd sense
Sad visions of his looks, his gestures, words,
And multiplied the ideas we should banish.

JULIA.
I judg'd it not unkindness, for I know
Your generous nature feels for all who suffer.
And if to have been once supremely bless'd,
To have reach'd the height of every human wish,
Then sudden—but your swelling eyes reproach me.
You own'd him first, before his birth you lov'd him;
But O, this selfish grief forgets all titles.

FULVIA.
Yet join with me to bless that providence,
Which bending gracious to a parent's prayer,
'Midst all the perils of destructive war,
Preserv'd one pillar of my falling house.
Come near, my son; and in this fair perfection.
Behold, what, next to thee, the world contains
Most precious to thy mother.

[Marcellus, who has been behind with Durazzo, advances.
JULIA.
Saints and angels!
[starting.
Am I awake, or is this mockery?
O, I could gaze for ever on that face,
Nor wish to rouse me from the dear delusion.
Still let me know him only by my eyes!
O, do not speak, lest some unusual sound,
An alien to my ear, dissolve this vision,
And tell me thou but wear'st my Claudio's outside!

MARCELLUS.
If it commend me, Madam, to your favour,
I would not change it for the comliest form
That ever charm'd the eye with fair proportion.
But stop not at the exterior, search me deeply;
For proof, command me instant to your service;
Though peril walk with death in the achievement,
Swifter than falcons through the trackless air
My eager thoughts shall fly to your obedience.

JULIA.
Take heed, take heed, tempt not the dangerous shore;
Rocks, shelves, and quicksands lurk, I fear, around me;
And let one gallant vessel's shipwreck warn thee,—
Shun the same course, and find a happier fortune.

MARCELLUS.
I fear no shelves, no quicksands, but thy frown.
Aw'd and enraptur'd I behold such beauty;
And while I talk thus, wish to find some language
Fit for a being of a sphere above me.

[A Servant enters, and whispers Olympia.
OLYMPIA.
Julia, a word. Mentevole attends,
[to Julia aside.
And asks to be admitted.

JULIA.
Now? Not now;
Indeed I cannot see him. Quick, my Olympia,
Prevent his entrance. My poor fluttering heart,
(If suddenly that name is sounded to me,)
Beats, like a prison'd bird against its cage,
When some annoying hand is stretch'd to seize it.

DURAZZO.
Madam, this day which brings you back to us,
[to Fulvia.
We should make festival. Your presence here
Has wrought a miracle. I have not seen
A smile of joy enlighten that dear face,
Heaven knows how long, till you brought sunshine with you.

FULVIA.
I have upbraidings for my absence, here;
The cause, I'm sure, a false one. In atonement,
Let me observe her with a mother's care.
Invention shall be rack'd to find new means,
To lure her thoughts to sweet serenity.
She shall not see the frequent tears that wear
Their woeful channel down a parent's cheeks;
And to the brightest source of mortal comfort,
I will commend her, when I kneel to heaven.

DURAZZO.
May plumes of seraphs waft your pious prayers!
The tenderness of women has a charm,
Our rougher natures can attain but rudely.
Your voices are such dulcet instruments,
They steal the listening soul from its affliction,
To wind it gently in the soft enchantment.

FULVIA.
O, may that power be mine! Observe, my Julia,
My lord commits yon to my guardianship;
Do you confirm the trust?

JULIA.
An outcast's fortune
Might pitiless fall on me, could I fail
To bend with reverence for your dear protection.

FULVIA.
Come, let us hence; the air is mild abroad.
Julia, we must not sink, but strive to banish
That restless inbred foe to the afflicted,
Reflection, from our bosoms.

JULIA.
'Would, I could!
But death's long sleep alone can banish him.

[Exeunt all but Marcellus.
MARCELLUS.
My soul and all its faculties go with her:
[looking after Julia.
Grace, beauty, sweetness, all that captivates,
And holds us long in dear delicious bonds,
Indissoluble bonds, for time too strong,
For change, or casualty, are summ'd up there.
Divinity of love, absolute master,
From this white hour, to thy all-potent sway
Thus I submit me: hence, all idle thoughts,
I chase you forth. Full-plum'd ambition, glory,
Arms, and the war, farewel! Her brighter image
Claims all my bosom, and disdains a rival.

[Exit.