University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

An Apartment in the Ducal Palace.—Enter Duchess and Ippolita.
Duch.
I grieve for both: I would it were not so,
Or could be remedied. What said the Duke?
You told him all?

Ippo.
Kindly he spake to me,
Without one word of chiding, tho' he seem'd
Heavily troubled. I did tell him all
That was important.

Duch.
And to your design
Of self-immurement in a convent's walls,
What said he?

Ippo.
That I did not mention.
My future life I deem so valueless,
I would not listen to one passing sigh
For my conclusion. Since I am fix'd to do it,
I should not seek for sympathy, which longs
To be entreated back.

Duch.
Thou mak'st me weep
By thus rejecting tears.

Ippo.
Madam, your kindness
Hath ever been most motherlike, and now
Adds the last pang that points my barb'd resolve.

Duch.
What saith my son to this?—and tell me, love,
Sincerely—do'st not know where now he is?

Ippo.
No, Madam, truly; and I deeply feel
I ne'er shall see him more.

Duch.
Yet, answer me:
What think'st thou of his absence?

Ippo.
That he's gone,
To spare my grief at parting, and his own.
He would not have me see the preparations
For his bright visit to the German court.
I ne'er shall see him more!

Duch.
Thou dost affright me!
He is not gone—he hath not ta'en his leave
Of me! Perchance he's in the forest lost?
His ardour in the chase hath injured him,
Or he'd return: may be, he has sprain'd a joint,
And now in some kind peasant's hut is laid.
He will be here anon.

Ippo.
Come when he may,
Into life's blighted forest I have plunged,
Ne'er to retrace my steps.

Duch.
Lament not thus!
Some youthful noble at a future day
Will estimate thy virtues and thy beauty?

Ippo.
Beauty shall burn out, as the sacrifice
On passion's altar, ruin'd tho' it be.
No: since I cannot wed the man I love
Above all others, beyond measurement
Or expectation of the fondest hope,
I'll wed my soul unto his memory;
Thus live—and for this only—and then die!

Duch.
My child!

Ippo.
Sweet lady! do not pity me;
For pride oft braids the hair that sorrow moistens.
The prince hath prov'd his duty; I, my love;
And cypress-sceptred Misery follows both!

[Exeunt.