University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Piazza del Granduca.—Enter Chiostro, Cornelio, Macchietti and Dalmasso.
Cor.
How 'twas, I know not.

Macc.
You pursued them close?

Cor.
We did; but at the doubling of a wall
We lost them quite. Mass! and they did it well.

Macc.
'Tis manifest, from what our wives have told us,
Confessing all the mischief of their mirth,
Those friars are rascals.

Chios.
Sir, your recognition
Would seem to prove them corsairs, from the coast.
But wherefore come they here?

Cor.
That must we learn—
When we can catch them. But the Prince Giovanni—
How fares he, sir, to-day?—when comes he forth?

Chios.
I have not seen him: access is denied
To all, by the Duke's orders. Much I fear
Some dangerous fever.

Macc.
Heaven preserve his life!

Cor.
(to Dal.)
You are silent, sir!

Dal.
I!—I am very merry—that's to say, calm.

Cor.
Calm at the Prince's illness?

Dal.
(aside).
Worry me not:
His cause of sickness is a court-secret!

Cor.
Oh!—
(Aloud).
Those friars we'll trap: but, tell me, gentlemen,
What of Don Garcia's conduct should we think?
First seen with one who doth appear their chief;
And, as I've learnt this morn, some peasants met him,
Ere day-break near the forest, with all three,
In social conversation laughing loud,
With face the hue of marble in the moon,
And earth-marks on his knees! What can we think?

Dal.
Said you not, soon as he did see the peasants,
He join'd them eagerly?

Cor.
And left the friars,
Or corsairs, as they'll prove—standing perplex'd,
Without so much as bidding them good day;
Nor look'd he once behind, but hurried on,
So that the rest could scarce keep up with him!

Chio.
'Tis but his wilful way; there's naught more in it.

Cor.
Naught more!

Macc.
What, then?

Dal.
Sir, shall we know your thoughts?

Cor.
Nor friars nor corsairs are for him fit peers.
Now, gentlemen, I'll tell you candidly—
Without the least false harmony of disguise,
Or any counter-thought beneath my words—
Upon my soul I know not what to think!

Dal.
I know what one might think.

Cor.
What?

Macc.
What, my lord?

Dal.
I shall inform the Duke.

Cor.
Nay, so shall I:
I have a thoughtful tongue.

Chios.
(smiling).
My lords, we'll leave ye
To settle who shall teach what neither know.

[Exeunt Chiostro and Macchietti.
Cor.
Your hand, sir! I was rude to you i' the forest.

Dal.
And elsewhere, oftentimes.

Cor.
We are old friends.
You are a gentleman whom all respect
Most justly.

Dal.
Thank you, sir—for speaking truth.

Cor.
Come, tell me now: what of the prince Giovanni?
Is he, indeed, so ill?

Dal.
He might be worse.

Cor.
Fever!—can Emperor's daughters drug the wind
With influential beauty? Hath he ta'en
A fever of love?

Dal.
I know not of such fever.

Cor.
Cold sensual! walking nose of Ovid's bust!
Why vent'st thou intermittent speech from lips
Blue as a monk's within his marble pulpit,
Preaching for charity at Christmas-tide!

Dal.
In vain you rail, sir!

Cor.
Nay—let's be serious.
If he should die?

Dal.
(looking round, and lowering his voice).
Talk not of that.

Cor.
Why not?

Dal.
Because death is an endless argument;
Or, if it hath an end, 'twere best not sought.
Deep thoughts are ever dangerous, and our fancies
Not precipice-proof a whit more than our bodies.
E'en as yon river parts the city in two,
So reason divides judgment.

Cor.
Wreck'd o' both shores.
Tut! death's the Ducal cosmographic clock,
Striking the world's mutations—we don't feel it:
Or like Achilles' shield; a populous round:
It quoits down thousands for the one it saves.
Let's to our dinners!

Dal.
I have a heavy heart.

Cor.
Think you this sleeve becomes me?

Dal.
The fogs rise!

Cor.
Loose—and appropriate?

Dal.
Ugh!—I am cold.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Corridor of the Ducal Palace.—Enter Cosmo, and an Attendant.
Cosmo.
Is my son's body placed as I directed?

Atten.
It is, my liege.

Cosmo.
The curtain hung in front,
Effectually concealing what's behind?

Atten.
Closely, your Highness; and beyond suspicion,
Save to the second-sight of guilt.

Cosmo.
Ha!—that is well!—woe to his body and soul
Who knows what's there without examining!

Atten.
Shall I light tapers round the corse?

Cosmo.
No—no!
(Aside).
He who hath done it will not need a light;
For hell's reflexion on his startled soul
Will make all clear.

Atten.
He was a noble planet,
Whose body, once so bright, now spots—

Cosmo.
How looks he?

Atten.
Shadows of decay
Fix on the surface: shadows from within—
Unlike all other shadows—that ne'er pass.

Cosmo.
But bear the substance with them. Hark you, sir!
Spare me your morals—death is common, sir;
And hath exhausted man's impertinence
In words.

Atten.
But murder—pardon me, my liege—
That is not common?

Cosmo.
How!—old man, be silent!
Who told thee he was murder'd?—who dares say so?

Atten.
I humbly crave your Highness' pardon!—no one!

Cosmo.
Enough, grey Sapience!—the plague's in Florence—
A plague that clots the banners of our house,
And will incarnadine the dust of time
While heavily they wave. Why stare you thus?
Lock up thy gadding tongue—but mark my orders!
Seek privately the Cavalier Dalmasso:
Bid him attend me, here i' the corridor,
Within two hours—not sooner, but precise.
[Exit Attendant.
Now will I go and gaze on my dead son,
And in that human ruin see my hopes
Ended: our house defrauded of its line,
By so much excellence gone into mere clay;
Or left, mere clay for its sole sponsor here.
What follows next?—his murderer shall die—
And speedily—that penalty is fix'd.
So sure as this my hand did wed his mother—
Most wretched in that demon of her womb;
So sure as 'twas his hand his brother slew;
So sure by mine he falls! Now solemn prayer,
Shall purify and fit me for the hour!

[Exit.

SCENE III.

An Apartment in the Ducal Palace.—Enter Garcia, followed by the Duchess.
Duch.
This is no answer!

Gar.
Madam, I have no other.

Duch.
Then thou art positive in thy denial
Of the least knowledge where thy brother is?

Gar.
Thrice have I told thee so: if I make oath,
Thou'lt ask that thrice, as tho' the heavens were deaf
And needed iteration!

Duch.
Oh, my child,
What can this mean!—what can I do, or say?

Gar.
Nothing!

Duch.
My dearest son?

Gar.
Nothing, will best
Become your soft capacity.

Duch.
My Garcia!
Never before to me did'st thou address
Such cutting words!—fiery, perchance, at times,
On others thou hast darted glances fierce;
But ne'er before on me?

Gar.
Incessantly
My life is probed by questions of Giovanni!
First comes a courtier—‘Where's the Prince Giovanni?’
Ere I can answer, that I do not know,
His tutor, or some blear astronomer,
Tasks me, with book or telescope in hand;
And then another, and another courtier!
Next comes a courtezan, and asks the same!

Duch.
Oh, this is false!

Gar.
When the truth will not serve,
'Tis evident that gossips covet lies?
When I reply, no one doth credit me!
They shrink away, with lurking looks and shrugs,
Pregnant of sinister meaning! Let them think!
In vile suspicions doth the devil paint
Men's self-bred villany unto themselves; but they—
Having oil'd consciences, do slip o' one side—
Think it their neighbour's portrait, and cry ‘shame!’

Duch.
Thou rack'st my very heart!

Gar.
Seek then thy bed,
And sleep it whole again.

Duch.
I e'en must leave thee,
If thus thou speak'st?

Gar.
Good madam, thoud'st best go!

Duch.
My son!—my Garcia!

Gar.
Any where—I care not—
I am worn out!

Duch.
What can this mean?—how end?

[Exit.
Gar.
Thou gentle mother of a savage son,
Now thou art dealt with!—I am glad 'tis o'er!
First pent within a den, then compass'd round,
And spear'd at, constantly, I'm made a tiger!
Who could remain a man 'midst all these wounds?
Ah me! I'm sick at soul! In these few days
I am grown older, both in body and mind,
By many a year; and my experience
Of life and death has superseded youth,
And all its flowers lie like a shower of stones.
Even the sweetness of the air is gone:
My fever'd breath has changed it. Not for me;
Oh not for me comes music in the night
With ravishing cadence—dreamy pulse and pause—
Revival—and far-dying. Nature wears
A sack-cloth robe, with ashes in her hair,
While time doth knot the cord.—Who is't I see?
Ippolita!—what terror, yet what love!
Her presence brings fresh life—but a fresh trial!
Well—'tis the last. O heart! revive once more,
And of thy proper energies create
New elements of hope to mould a world
Based on the trampled compost of despair,
As sun-lit harvests rise where squadrons fell!

Enter Ippolita.
Ippo.
I sought you, Garcia; for I much do fear
Giovanni's absence is not, as I had thought,
By me occasion'd?

Gar.
Then by whom, or what?

Ippo.
By some mischance endangering his life?

Gar.
(aside).
Now shakes the temple of my new-born world.

Ippo.
You tremble!

Gar.
Dark mischance surrounds us all.

Ippo.
You know it, then!—what hath befallen him?
You left him in the wood?

Gar.
True—there I left him;
And he left me: we parted—that's the sum
Of all I know of him, or he of me.

Ippo.
Ambiguous are thy words. I feel I never
Shall see him any more!

Gar.
(aside).
Now would I fain
Religiously repeat his parting blessing,
And love to her bequeath'd;—but how confess
That I was present and receiv'd his words?
I must not—yet I promis'd sacredly?

Ippo.
He hath no love for me—he never had—
Or could he thus leave torture to supply
His dear-felt presence?

Gar.
Thou art wrong in this.
I know he lov'd thee with such depth of soul,
That on his bed of death with his last breath
He would have call'd down showers of blessings on thee,
In token that he left his heart on earth!

Ippo.
Say'st thou so!—kindest Garcia!—say'st thou so?

Gar.
I'm sure of't.

Ippo.
Then, ye silent darksome walls,
That soon will shut me from the useless world,
Welcome—most welcome!

Gar.
These are friendly walls,
Where every tenant loves thee?

Ippo.
Soon shall I
Leave them for ever.

Gar.
Whither wouldst thou flee?

Ippo.
Into a convent's gloom.

Gar.
A convent!—surely—

Ippo.
Yes—it is sure as death, or deep-love.

Gar.
No!

Ippo.
There will I pray before mine hour-glass,
And woo the bony Death—farewell!

Gar.
No—no!
Thou must not do so—dear Ippolita?

Ippo.
Ah! wherefore should I stay?

Gar.
Stay to be loved—
To be adored—thou must not thus be lost,
And leave earth bare of comfort!

Ippo.
Lost to whom—
Whose comfort, Garcia?

Gar.
One prince of Florence,
Who is not here, Duke Cosmo hath affianced!
Another yet remains—alike devoted!

Ippo.
(with a piercing look of terror).
Garcia!

Gar.
(wildly).
I love thee!

Ippo.
(shrieks, and retreats).
Ah! I see it, now!
I see all, now!—let madness take thy hand
And wed it with my curses!—where's thy brother?
I feel he's dead!—thou—thou hast murder'd him!

[Exit, wildly.
Gar.
Have I embraced a thunder-cloud! Oh man!
Combustion of the elements ne'er made
So wide a flaw in the vast scheme of things,
As passion doth in thee! When some bright star
Which we behold adoring, suddenly
Explodes, and leaves all dark, that darkness soon
New orbs illume: passion hath only one.
A murderer did she call me!—foul, false word!—
'Sdeath! I begin to feel as if 'twere true,
And harden in the fact? Nor stand I singly.
What's he who slays in battle?—is't not murder?
Cornelio boasts he hath kill'd many men;
Verani, Basta, all the knights o' the court,
Have done the same—ay, and the Duke himself!
The cause is naught—our country's enemies, naught—
Murderers they are, in motive as in deed!
Say, one doth poison a man's wife; the husband
Kills him forthright—that is a murderer!
What is the priest who dooms his soul to fire?
A murderer too, and worse! If you do kill
The bravo hired to stab you?—no excuse.
Or if, in a quarrel, blind with wine, or rage,
You slay the man unwittingly, whose hand
Falcon'd your throat while his blade glanc'd above,
The whole world roars, ‘Thou art a murderer!’
As they had roar'd at him if thou'dst been slain.
Thus, providential 'scapes are worse than death,
And good-luck heinous!
Enter an Attendant.
Well—what next?

Atten.
My lord,
His Highness waits within his private chamber
Your prompt attendance.

Gar.
(sternly, after some hesitation).
I have heard you.
[Exit Attendant.
What further would the Duke with me?—my trial
Exceeds all condemnation—what is this?
Methought I had pass'd the worst? Why, so I have!
Naught more remains but idle repetition,
Queries, conjectures, probabilities.
These blows do harden me, and make the deed,
Appalling once, seem common as a cloud
Wherein great faces frown and fade; my heart
Is as a stone that's on the high-way broken
By wheels, men, cattle—and I almost feel,
With like occasion I could do't again.
Terror hath dash'd his torch before mine eyes,
Till hell seems ashes; paralysed despair
Lies carv'd in ice, outstretch'd before my path;
Remorse is beggar'd; scarcely grief remains;
And of concealment I am grown so sick,
That on my coffin I would gladly sit,
Saying—‘Cease all this prate—'twas I who slew him!’
But I have ta'en my stand beyond retreat:
This deed, O Cosmo!—it is none of mine!

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Ante-chamber of the Duke's private apartment. A leaden-grey curtain is drawn across the back of it. Enter Cosmo, from behind the curtain.
Cosmo.
The solid earth beneath me seems to rock;
Yet will not I!—like Justice, will I stand
Upon mine own foundation—steel'd in right!
And thou—O, vast marmoreal arch above!
Whereon the luminous host in silence range;
Glorified giants and portentous powers,
Coeval, coeternal with the spheres—
Who gaze with solar face on this my deed;
O, spanning arch! yawn thou, and let heaven down,
To crush me ere I do't, if I be wrong!

Enter Garcia.
Gar.
(after a pause).
Sir, I am here.

Cosmo
(advancing close, and fixing his eyes upon him).
Art worthy to be here?
Shouldst thou not rather be within thy tomb?

Gar.
I rather would be there.

Cosmo.
Wherefore wouldst rather?

Gar.
Because, sir, I am sick of this vile life
Which I am made to lead by constant questions
Touching my brother's absence. Whereso'er
I turn, suspicions fang me; words are fangs,
And looks are words—therefore I'm sick of life.

Cosmo.
Thou dost anticipate me, and thy craft
Equals thy fix'd audacity.

Gar.
What craft?

Cosmo.
Come, let's be brief: you know Giovanni's murder'd!

Gar.
Murder'd, my lord!—impossible!

Cosmo.
Thou did'st it!
Thou art the murderer!

Gar.
What hideous liar
Hath blown this monstrous seed in your quick ear?

Cosmo.
Thou hast a demon's tongue, oh, iron-faced boy,
That should be rooted from its upas hold,
And cast to hungry imps! I know thou did'st it!

Gar.
Then may your Highness listen to these facts:
Cornelio and Dalmasso are both murderers—
And all the rest who follow'd to your wars!
My mother is a murderess, in that she
Hath wish'd success to wars her kin have waged!
Then, there's Ippolita—a murderess too;
Self-sacrificed, and in a convent buried!
And those who ne'er have done a deed of death,
Have oft in private thoughts imagined it
From causes trivial that have stirr'd their passions:
Even the child who strikes intends to kill!
Thus, all the world—

Cosmo.
Boy! boy! no more!—thou utterest
Words, the base coin of self-deceptive fiends.
I have a picture here of ancient date,
Which looks eternal—placed beyond time's hand.
[Leading him towards the curtain.
It was thy mother's gift when first we married,
And hath been treasur'd since most sacredly.
A solemn lesson doth the subject teach
To erring mortals: recognize—acknowledge!

[He throws aside the curtain, and discovers the form of Giovanni laid upon a marble slab. Garcia utters no cry; but rushes down to the front, followed by Cosmo, who points to his face.]
Gar.
(after a pause of horror).
I did it!

Cosmo.
Oh unnatural government,
That in a mental den lock'd up such deed!
How doth it force itself thro' the cold pores
Of that metallic mask, and curdle there!
Garcia! thy soul is lost!

Gar.
(abstractedly).
It is the form
Of my unburied brother!—peaceful heaven
Cherish his soul, and let it plead my cause!

Cosmo.
Thy cause, oh murderous boy!

Gar.
I am no murderer!

Cosmo.
Now dost thou snatch the earth from under me,
And leave me grappling space!—hast thou not said
Thou did'st it?

Gar.
Father, it is true he fell
In our fierce struggle—else I had not been here,
My chance to curse!

Cosmo.
What villainous evasion
Wouldst thou insinuate? Speak, ere I slay thee;
For self-command will burst my inner world,
And chaos whelm us both!

Gar.
He first attack'd me!
And in mine own defence, I know not how,
Madly I parried him—I am innocent!

Cosmo.
Monstrous untruth! thou wretch unparallel'd!
Too well I know thy brother's sweetest nature
Could ne'er have been so changed. Approach yon form!
[Cosmo leads him towards the body.
Nearer—more near! “Doth not the sullen blood
Revivify, and leave its kindred earth,
Acknowledging the presence of the Destroyer!”

Gar.
I see the sullen blood there fix'd, congeal'd;
I do not see it flow!—take, take away
My senses from me—do not harrow them,
Until I own what is not!

Cosmo.
Garcia! Garcia!
It is enough.—“Behold thy brother's blood!
It cries aloud for vengeance on thy head,
Waiting heaven's mandate, ministered by me!
Oh, wretched father of a fratricide—
Whom by all laws of justice I am bound
To render up to Death's capacious hand—
How wretched is surviving! But dream not
That as an impious and unequal judge
My people shall impugn me. It is better
That future times should call me barbarous
In this my private act, than as a sovereign
Weak and unjust. Therefore prepare to die!”

Gar.
Under what awful impulse dost thou act?

Cosmo
(pointing upwards).
Under Authority!

Gar.
Life's worthless to me—but to end it thus—
You do deceive yourself—yet hear me, father!
Show me the proof of this high mission?

Cosmo.
There!—
I am the father of that corpse!

Gar.
(clasping his hands).
I know it, sir; and I—I am its brother!

Cosmo.
Dar'st thou so call thyself, who art, his murderer?

Gar.
I'm no such wretch—and yet a wretch who cares not
How soon he die!

Cosmo.
That moment now is come!

[He draws forth Garcia's broken sword.
Gar.
Horrible death! by these cold, pausing steps—
Silent as heaven before the earth was made—
Yet thundering in the brain, as they advance,
Like slow, but final judgment! Do not kill me!

Cosmo.
Not final—save on earth.

Gar.
You will not kill me!
You cannot mean it!—I have done no wrong.

Cosmo.
How! with yon weltering witness?

Gar.
Heaven take me home!
I see it—see nothing else—Well, well, all's o'er—
I care not, sir! I steadily tell you that!
Brother, I pardon thee! 'twas thy good chance
To die and not to suffer as I have done:
We shall be reconciled within the tomb!

Cosmo.
Look up, ye fiends!—behold this broken blade!
Doth not the fragment pierce thine inmost sense
With this last proof?

Gar.
I have nought more to say.

Cosmo.
“Unnatural boy, 'tis fit thy course should cease,
Lest all thy family thou shouldst cut off,
Or blank their prospects and eclipse their fame;”
Choking their sun with blood, and causing tears
To fall where clarion'd glories should arise!
Leagued with fell bandits and with pirate hordes,
Perchance e'en now they hover round our gates
With bosom-heated steel.

Gar.
God is my judge!

Cosmo.
In heaven;—but first on earth it is ordain'd
There should be judges to arraign men's deeds,
And send the guilty hence to the Court Supreme!
Farewell, O, wretched son!—I cannot give
A father's blessing—yet—my son—farewell!
[Garcia kneels, and Cosmo embraces, and hangs fondly over him: then lifts himself up, and raises the sword towards heaven.]
“Thou constant God! sanction, impel, direct
The sword of Justice!—and for a criminal son
That pardon grant which his most wretched father
Thus in the hour of agony implores!”

[The scene closes; the tableau of the figures previously presenting a partial resemblance to statuary, or a monumental design, in the position, the pallid look and the immobility of the group, together with the form and colour of the dresses and draperies. The scene should be addressed to the imagination and the passions, rather than to the eye.]

SCENE V.

A Corridor of the Ducal Palace.—Enter Duchess.
Duch.
Oh, wherefore left I Garcia in that mood—
So changed from all he was!—Where is he now?
Would I could find him, for my trembling frame
Tells me some dreadful things are hovering round
Whose fall will make us shriek ere we know why!
The Duke!—with mighty bounds this way he comes!
And looks as though he had just seen a ghost!
What!—what!—if he be moved to leap the earth,
Earth's centre's lost!

[Retreats in terror.
Cosmo rushes in.
Cosmo.
He's saved from worse than death!
His fame is saved!—“unto his father's hand
He hath resign'd that life his father gave!”
No horrible public executioner
Hath seal'd disgrace upon our ancient house.
My wife! ha!—what's the matter?

Duch.
Oh, my lord!
How—how is this? what can have made you thus?

Cosmo
(recovering himself loftily).
How thus!

Duch.
Where—where is Garcia?—where?—
I left him recently in fearful state—
His nature hath been gall'd—I fear he's mad—
For God's sake, tell me—tell me where he is?

Cosmo
(agitated).
Good mother of my sons—we all at times
Border on madness; nay, in sooth, we're mad—
And but it lasts not, men would call us so,
And chain our damn'd magnificence of will!
Retire—I will be left alone—retire!

Duch.
My heart-strings strain—strain!—Garcia! where art thou?

[Exit Duchess.
Cosmo.
He'll answer her no more—save from the air!
What if that echo be his voice, not hers?

(Duchess
calling within).
Where—where is Garcia!

Cosmo.
With the all-merciful God!

(Duchess
calling within).
Garcia!

Cosmo.
The walls do render back the sound!
What if the earth should open at my feet,
And he himself make answer, ‘I am here!’
Then should his mother ask, ‘Who plac'd thee there?’
Can I stand upright, saying who it was?
I could!—but not to her—no, not to her!
Enter Dalmasso.
Away!

Dal.
Your Highness did command—

Cosmo.
True—true:
Your pardon, sir. Thou'st kept the secret close?

Dal.
My liege, I have.

Cosmo.
Forth now, and publicly
Announce this dolorous news throughout the city;
That, of the pestilence, our dear loved sons,
Giovanni and young Garcia, are both dead!

Dal.
Both dead, my lord?

Cosmo.
Did'st thou not hear me say it?
A bell tolls in my brain as for earth's end:
They are both dead!

Dal.
Your Highness—I crave pardon—

Cosmo.
See that all honours, fitting their princely state,
With high oration and sad ceremony,
Be straight prepared?

Dal.
Religiously, my liege.
Yet will your Highness bear with me, if now,
At such a moment, I intrude to tell
How that the corsair Zacheo is arrested,
With two of his band. Is it your will to order
Their execution?

Cosmo.
No, no, no!—'tis hideous!
No more of executions. They are pardon'd!

Dal.
And for their future conduct—

Cosmo.
Set them all free!
Death hath two noble gifts, and well can wait
For the flaw'd casts from man's precarious mould.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Gardens of the Ducal Palace. Sun-set.—Enter Luigi del Passato.
Passa.
These splendours seem to me like sugar'd fruits—
Palling the purity of Nature's taste
And integral design. It is far better,
So one hath just enough for means of life,
To set one's back against an aged tree
On some fair hill, and thence survey below
Sweet sylvan streams, with many a snow-white bridge,
Vines, olive-yards, pine-groves, and basking gardens,
And in the fertile, fresh-green distance winding
Slow o'er the fragrant mead, the oxen-teams—
Than be their Ducal lord. Cosmo hath lost
Two sons, the nearest to his sovereign hopes,
By one 'ghast fever, at the self-same time:
What's Cosmo's state? Fair-haired young Garcia,
A cold clay image now, of graceless shape,
Had that within him might have sunn'd the world:
What's Cosmo's dukedom to his double loss?
Of no more value than a bunch of grapes!
Far less, when men are thirsty, or the eye
Wanders tow'rds Arcady.

Enter Chiostro.
Chios.
Dark be the sun—
The heavens a domed tomb, to house this loss!

Passa.
I've heard it, sir—Garcia and Giovanni
Stand pale upon one slab!

Chios.
That is not all—
The Duchess' heart is broken! She was found
Extended senseless near the half-closed door
Of the Duke's private chamber, whence it seem'd
She had just issued. In his Highness' arms
She breathed her last; but utter'd not a word.

Pass.
Ah! there's the sweetness of nobility,
Crown'd with high feeling. How is't with the Duke?

Chios.
Oh, sir, he hath a tower of man within!
Ravaged by storms that howlingly sweep through,
He shakes—but falls not. His passions are his slaves!
Being humane, 'tis reason'd will, alone,
That makes man great with high security.
Such power hath Cosmo. Fare—fare you well, sir!
I go to write the oration with my tears.

[Exit.
Pass.
Would I could weep: my heart hath got a load
Which blessed tears might lighten and disperse.
'Tis Cosmo yonder! Darkly and tall he stands,
Like an extinguish'd beacon of the night,
Whose watchman hath been cast into the sea.
Hither he moves.

[Passato seats himself on a bank.
Enter Cosmo, in a sable robe.
Cosmo.
Vast is the bosom of heaven:
Descended thence, man thither should aspire:
There only can grief breathe, and find repose.
I am not calm; I struggle without aim:
I walk with fortitude as with a friend;
But feel that one of us is false. Who's here?
Sir, do not rise; I know you very well.
You are a sculptor: I will sit by you!

[Seats himself beside Passato.
Pass.
Not grief alone hath made your Highness gracious.

Cosmo.
I thank you: I am grateful for that truth;
And I feel—sir, I feel—much—very much.
You know my recent losses: though you are not
A father or a husband, as I think,
Yet you can enter into what I feel,
In some degree.

Pass.
Entirely, my liege.

Cosmo.
That is impossible!—pardon me, sir;
You do not know. I was about to say,
That as it seem'd my son, sir—my son Garcia—
And you, were friends; and that Giovanni held you—
As do I also—greatly in esteem
For your chaste works, I would at once propose
That you should rear a monument, and give it
The utmost of your nature?

Pass.
With devotion
My soul shall move my hand.

Cosmo.
A high design—
Clearly made out, though broad in its effects?

Pass.
Clear as the story thou wouldst have me tell.

Cosmo
(starting up.)
Ha!—dost thou hint at aught beyond thy words!—
I wander with my sons—I am not well—
The air of the garden and the scent o'the plants
Affect me strongly.

[The Duke sits down again.
Pass.
Good, my lord—'tis common.

Cosmo
(hurriedly.)
Listen: I'd have them all as life-sized figures—
Death's standard there's no quarry that could furnish—
The Duchess—both my sons—Giovanni, Garcia—
Somewhat to tell my grief, if aught can tell it,
And also that of lost Ippolita;
In short, sir, you may place us all as dead!
Now, your design?

Pass.
That needs some time, my lord.

Cosmo.
Thou said'st thy soul was in it?

Pass.
So it is;
But yet my mind's unform'd: 'twill be the work
Of serious years, and cannot in a minute
Spring from the brain fit to stand fast through ages.

Cosmo
(rising hurriedly.)
I'm sick, I'm sick at heart! Find years elsewhere!
Sculpture the almanack—I will have naught!

[Retires abruptly.
Pass.
(coming forward.)
I tire of the court: I am unfit for it;
Its patronage is irksome, for it savours
Of orders from above, and hath in all things
Too much vitality to suit my taste.
Why should my natural moods be call'd eccentric,
While rich men's starts and humours pass for law?
The Duke is great and generous; yet methinks
It ill suits greatness in philosophy,
Because his kin have sought their natural rest
Some seasons prematurely, thus to rave?
I will return to mine obscurity,
To stand upon some cliff that goat ne'er hoof'd,
And watch old eagles and the sinking sun;
Or in primeval twilight of deep groves,
'Midst satyrane trees and silence, shape my clay;
Companion shadows—and commence with Time.

[Exit.
Cosmo
, (slowly coming forward.)
I lose myself: what wonder, having lost
So much that's better? I have outlived all hopes.
[He pauses despondingly.
On the grey slope of life, when friends fall off,
And e'en the fresh flowers and the clouds look old;
When natural sweets are bitter in the mind,
Hope dying of sick memory soon as born,
And beauty, like a lily's pure, cold urn,
Standing in Lethe's waters, wakes no sense
To ravishment, no thoughts to urge our steps;
While grief, experience, and oblivion,
In sequence old, come to dismiss the heart;
Mighty revealings of an after-state
Flit through the brain, and sobbings fill the ear
From the great winds' quadruple origin,
And make man fear himself. But Justice reigns!
Creation and destruction are the extremes,
With all the heavens for centre. Still, we shudder:
Yet one power holds. Unwavering consciousness
Of general practice in humanity,
Is all that shores us up against the eye
Of deep self-scrutiny; the only power
Which can enable man, howe'er appall'd,
To look his own being, steadily in the face.

Enter two Officers, and Zacheo, in his Pirate's dress; with a few links of chain hanging from his wrist.
1st Off.
My liege!

2nd Off.
So please your Highness!

Cosmo.
Who art thou?

Zach.
I am the corsair, Zacheo Barossa,
The infidel who with his daring crew
Hath ravaged long the coast of Tuscany.
I am come to thank you for my life!

Cosmo.
Go—mend it!

Zach.
Cosmo, the state and power thou hold'st are noble;
Far nobler in thy use: great is thy nature,
Tho' thou'rt a Christian whom I ought to hate;
Yet, could a lawless corsair do thee service
Thou'dst not receive it, so I'll take my leave,
And close as rock-veins hold thy present secret.

Cosmo.
Man!

Zach.
It is safe: the plague sometimes takes Princes.

Cosmo.
Hath it not ta'en my sons?

Zach.
So 'tis reported.

[Cosmo waves his hand. Exeunt Officers.
Cosmo.
I have not 'scaped myself, tho' I do live.

Zach.
Save thee, great Cosmo!

Cosmo
(with impatient hauteur).
Hence! and mend thy life!

Zach.
I crave thy pardon if I've anger'd thee;
Still more because thy royal heart is griev'd;
But as I only saw the Princes fight,
I thought—

Cosmo
(with wild earnestness).
Fight!—saw them fight!—thou witness'd it?

Zach.
I did.

Cosmo.
(clasping his hands).
A witness!—an earthly witness!—I did think
There had been but One!

Zach.
(reverently).
Allah doth know I saw it!
The elder first drew steel.

Cosmo.
No!—no!—he could not!
Thine eyes deceiv'd thee—'twas my youngest son—
A whirlwind take thy words!—the elder youth
Was of a natural mildness, passing sweet.
Do not confound my soul!—he was most gentle!

Zach.
Of that I nothing know; but this I do know—
He gave the first offence, and urged his words,
Taunting the other for his boyish years.
They quarrell'd who first smote the boar; and next
About some lady, whom it seem'd both loved;
And then the elder drew, and hurl'd at him;
The other—parrying only, till his choler,
Boil'd up with some sharp wrench, perchance a cut,—
Made play with's brittle rapier, till it flew.
The rest was all confused; the end scarce tells it.
Whether lord Garcia dealt a mortal blow,
Or that his brother rush'd against the point,
I know not. Were both living, I believe
Neither could tell you more.

Cosmo.
(stunned and appalled).
Thou'st told sufficient!

Zach.
I met lord Garcia—shew'd him I knew his deed;
Then sought he aid from me forthwith to bury
His brother's body, lest his parents' hearts
Should doubly bleed—

Cosmo.
Tell me no more!—no more!

Zach.
I kneel, my liege; and go.

Cosmo.
Monster! no more!
Could'st thou un-say by any form of words,
Here would I stand—become a hollow rock—
And live but in my echoes! 'Tis too clear!
Quit me!
[Exit Zacheo.
And take my thanks—for thou hast curs'd me
With my son's innocence whom I have slain!
Is't really done?—Oh! done beyond recal.
His mother's death sums up and proves the account,
Sinking heaven's balance down into the grave,
While all my motives fly like blights i'the air.
I feel most curs'd!—dark iron-crown'd spectres wave
Swords, and the storied banners of our house,
Where all is told! My atmosphere of guilt
Inflates—collapses—pants like dreamy hell
At some strange pause and shifting of its pains!
Now Justice rise! arm thou some shadowy form
To make me pay my debt, thus doubly due,
And one large grave hold Cosmo and his sons!

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Interior of the Chapel of San Lorenzo. Three biers, each bearing a covered form, are elevated pyramidally, in the centre. Priests, Nobles, Monks, Ladies, &c. are ranged on each side. The organ breathes forth a heavenly strain.
Enter Ippolita, clad in a long black veil.
Ippo.
Not all the hopes and pleasures of the world
Can pour one drop of balm on such a loss.
Mine eyes, dear friends! are blind with scalding tears
That shut out nature—all, save misery.
Sigh not for me, that in a convent's cell
I wall up life—my heart doth share yon bier!

Enter Chiostro and Dalmasso, attired in mourning.
Chios.
These losses, and the centre of his heart
Thus suddenly transpierced—blow following blow
With rapid agonies commingling wild,
Scatter all fortitude, which ever needs
Some interval ere it regain its poise.

Dal.
The Duke can ne'er recover this! It is
A trial passing human energy.

Chios.
Within this hour he seems to have lost himself,
Like Saturn wandering thro' a wilderness;
Or he doth stand, a solid Dismay! How different
He look'd when Titian painted him!—O, grief!
Thou can'st entomb Osiris in a cloud,
And to black beamy shadows and ruins change
The architectural Day! Yet, he'll not fall!

Dal.
(aside).
There is a hideous mine beneath the earth,
And a dark spirit tracks him, pace for pace!

[The organ plays a solemn dirge.]
Enter Cosmo, attired in black velvet; his face all pale, and with disordered hair.
Cosmo
(advancing slowly and abstractedly).
My lofty and firm motives that once held
United as the Alps, are changed i' the acting
To martyr'd ashes—staked humanity!
This world's a bubble: see! where now it bursts,
And men and things fly off, and melt in air!
Yon spheres are temporal, and a yawn will end
The Ptolemaic dream! Our brain's mere dust,
Moisten'd and moved by rays and dews from heaven;
Soon dark—dry—void!—Creation's final lord—
Oblivion, crown'd with infinite blank stars—
Inherits all! I've done a hydra wrong!
Now will its monstrous constellation blazon
My deed, till heaven dissolve!

Priest.
My liege!

Chios.
Your Highness!

Cosmo
(still in abstraction).
Could I do otherwise?—I might have waited!
Peace, Garcia!—leave me!

Dal.
(aside to Chios.)
Hear you that, of Garcia?

Chios.
Did he say, leave me?

Cosmo.
Still my soul is strong,
And fights up hill against an armed Conscience.
In vain!—the constant effort proves it vain!
Thus nature's secret single-combat mars
The strength of man, which else might brave the spheres
With Atlas 'neath his heel. Now, all is o'er!

Priest.
My lord!

Cosmo.
I am cast backward—ne'er to rise.
All that had made me great—is gone!

Chios.
My liege!

A Noble.
May't please your illustrious Excellency!

Cosmo.
Mock not mine agony—mock not my state!
(Recovering himself).
So—they are there!—my wife—my dear lost sons!
My noble hope, Giovanni, snatch'd away!
My dear boy, Garcia—prematurely snatch'd!
(To the Priests).
Pardon me!—let your sacred rites proceed!
[A lofty chair is placed for the Duke.]
No!—I'll sit here.

[Seats himself in a Confessional.]
Priest.
Commence the solemn service!


MASS.
Celestial beams dry up our grief,
While these bright spirits now ascend;
Our hearts pour forth but for relief—
We know their life can never end!
No stain, no guilt is theirs:
Then purify our prayers,
And clear our souls—

Cosmo starts forward. The Mass pauses abruptly.
Cosmo.
This mass I like not!—it is vague—defective,
And most reproachful! Cease it on the instant!
How should my prayers be pure? Yet, wherefore not?
Giovanni died of pestilence—so did Garcia;
By a worse pestilence cut off—an error,
As monstrous, dark, and pagod-like in state,
As the united sense of right is vast
In all its bright proportions!

Priest.
Good, my liege!

Chios.
(aside).
Grief hath disturb'd his brain.

Dal.
(aside).
What he hath done
Is now too plain. How terrible a secret
For his appall'd successor's ear!

Chios.
(to Priest).
Speak to him.
Lo! where his heavy scalding tears pour down!

Cosmo
(with forlorn dignity).
Continue! Noble gentlemen and friends,
I cannot explain these things. My present state
Savours too much o'the elements. 'Tis a story
Such as in pealing thunder might be told—
Yet better lost in echoes o'er the sea,
Since none can thoroughly know what's in the soul.
Pray ye, excuse me! I am not much in years;
And tho' this morn methought my hair look'd grey,
'Tis but a few nights' snows. Yet, sorrow is strong,
And I an unarm'd and a childless man.
Once more, your pardon.
[He advances to the lofty chair placed for him.]
Let the mass proceed!

[Seats himself.

MASS.
From depths of gloom and grief
Seek not a vain relief,
Till the heart's heavy load o'erflow;
But grant us strength, O Heaven! to bear
This weight of agony and fear
That presses down the atmosphere,
And round our brows with searing glow
Clings like the leaden crown of Woe!

[As the Mass concludes, Cosmo falls back in the chair.]
Dal.
The Duke!—he faints!

All.
The Duke!

[Nobles and attendants rush towards him.
Cosmo.
'Tis well. Great God, thou knowest!

[Dies.
Chios.
(After a solemn pause).
There sped—on mighty wings, o'erspanning all
This nether globe—the noblest soul that e'er
Stoic, or Platonist, or sage full-hearted,
Framed in imagination of the just,
And man's immortal destiny made clear
By mortal practice, superseding death.
There broke a solid heart! Drop we no tears
On this colossal wreck; or, while our eyes
Play rebel to high thoughts, close, close his lids,
So their stain'd orbs reflect not this our weakness—
Needful as rain to those who dwell on earth.

[The scene slowly descends, displaying the whole extent of the Piazza del Granduca, with the grand equestrian statue in bronze of Cosmo the First, as it stands there at the present time.]