University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

A Corridor of the Palace. Music within.
Enter Garcia.
Gar.
Oh what a hell of anguish is the sound
Of jocund music to despairing souls!
'Tis like malicious revelry of fiends
O'er some new comer, who in horror sits
Apart, clasping his chains, and looking upward
Thro' space and time, to heaven's lost realm of peace!
Why should I feel heaven lost? What have I done?
Murder'd a brother?—no—no! Yet, he's slain!
Slain by my sword! 'Twas I—'twas I that did it—
Unwittingly—such was my fatal chance,
Which e'en might have been his: would it had been!

CHORUS
, within.
Fill! fill the bossy Vulcan bowl,
Whose images of Saturn's reign
Start as they feel the Bacchic soul
Ecstatic thro' the metal's vein!
Fill, to the fresh Saturnian sway,
While the dead smile amidst their clay!

Gar.
Those sounds do seem commission'd to inflict
Racks on my heart and madness on my brain!
While merriment—the feast, song, dance—transpires,
My brother dead, lies in the forest cold,
At mercy of the wolves! Oh howling Night!
I hear thee, and yon hall of mirth doth echo
Thine awful voice, taunting my soul's confusion!
I'll to the forest!—when?—to-morrow's eve:
And these my fratricidal hands shall dig
His grave; these eyes, that saw him die, shall pour
Tears for his parents o'er him—and if prayers
From me can struggle into utterance,
Then prayers—who's this?—it is Ippolita!
I cannot meet her!—why, why was I born!

[Exit.
Enter Ippolita.
Ippo.
Giovanni shuns the banquet: 'tis his grief
At the sad words wherewith we parted last!
Or is't that he would wean his heart from me,
And sickens with the effort?—yet 'tis fix'd
That I must ne'er be his. But is it right
To sacrifice my love—his happiness—
To gratitude; the greater to the less,
In feeling's scale? Let me not think of this!

Enter Cosmo.
Cosmo.
Still Garcia comes not to explain? He has join'd
A group of dancers; but with such a look
As makes him seem most fearfully alone.
Horror sits in his hair!—as grief in mine.
Ippolita!—why art thou wandering, girl,
With wretched looks?

Ippo.
I have a weight—here—here!
I would your Highness knew the cause?

Cosmo.
I've cares
Enough to swell the sea;—yet, tell thy grief.

Ippo.
I have long desir'd to do so,
But could not gather courage first to make
The sacrifice that should accompany
A sad, brief story.

Cosmo.
I, perchance, have heard
Less hopeful narratives. By Dante's soul!
There are more dragons in the world than men;
More graves than hearts! Nay—do not tremble, child!
Come—freely speak: I've ta'en thy father's place?

Ippo.
Thou hast—thou hast!—hence greater cause for grief!

Cosmo.
How so?

Ippo.
I have abus'd your confidence
And love; but I will fix'd atonement make,
Far as may be.

Cosmo.
I understand thee not.

Ippo.
I love the prince!—with painful pride, not shame,
I do confess myself as much belov'd.

Cosmo.
The Prince!

Ippo.
Forgive the offence—the prince Giovanni.

Cosmo
(aside).
Oh! what is here?

Ippo.
I know not how, my liege,
I stole into his bosom.

Cosmo.
Girl—no more!

Ippo.
(aside).
I fear'd—I had no hope—
Uphold me, fortitude! My lord, one word—

Cosmo.
Forbear, Ippolita!—or to the Duchess
Communicate the rest.

[Going.
Ippo.
Oh 'tis soon told.
When that I heard your Excellency design'd
Giovanni's hand for an Imperial bride,
I did relinquish my presumptuous claim;
Nor would I wish my poor deserts should mar
The brilliant fortunes of the man I love.
With all respect and filial reverence,
Giovanni will submit him to your wish.

Cosmo.
My child—no more! (aside)
This deepens all the wounds!

Ippo.
Let me unload my breast—let me unload it!
I have resolv'd I never will be his;
I have surrender'd all save inward feelings,
For which retention I do crave your pardon,
The more, my liege, since I confess them such—
So deep and potent—that were't not thus base
Ungratefully to outrage your adoption,
I would not lose him were he thrice a Prince,
And all earth's Potentates our love oppos'd!
But as it is—here ends my history!

Cosmo.
Love's heroism is equal to all acts,
But seldom to forbearance. Noble girl!
Thou art well worthy—is there no comfort left?
Thy father in the wars preserved my life;
Had I not ta'en his place, ingratitude
In me had been most base—it was no fault
That thou did'st love my son.

Ippo.
I will withdraw,
Lest he return—I must not see him now.

[Exit, despairingly.
Cosmo.
But I must see him soon as he returns,
Outstretch'd beyond fair nature's symmetry,
And rigid in his blood!—his awful face
Scarce cognizable, e'en to me—Oh, Garcia!
Can this fell deed be thine?—if 'tis, then tremble!