University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Forest.
Claudia, reclining under an Olive Tree, attended by several Officers.
She comes forward, meditating.
Clau.
Why I was left in this wild forest thus,
I cannot yet divine. Alfonso told me,
He came to watch the motions of Albanio,
Strange mode of watching! Ah! I fear, I fear,
More is design'd, than suited him to say.
Manfredi, too! I'd give the world to see him.
What says his letter?—Thou mysterious slave!

“A Woodman saved me from drowning. I have
seen what has ruined me.”

Seen what has ruined thee? There's much in this.

“Albanio's camp shall be my court for awhile.”
Albanio's camp? Why sure the man is mad!

“Albanio's camp shall be my court for awhile.
“In which if I succeed—.”

(Flourish.)
(Puts up the letter hastily.)
What's this? The king! I tremble at my shadow.

Enter Alfonso, Sciolto, and a multitude of Officers. Fontano and Scipio remain in the back ground.
Clau.
My lord! I joy to see thee thus return'd!
Fontano's treachery—but why frowning thus?
Nay—I entreat thee. Why, alas! thine eye
So wildly rolls on Claudia—had she done
Some monstrous crime, oh! never couldst thou look
More wildly or more frightfully.—Explain.—
(The King remains silent: Sciolto and Officers observe Claudia with anxious attention.)
My lords!—can you expound this mystery?
What have I done to merit these wild frowns?

Alf.
Thou hast dissolved, thou traitress, all the ties,
Which bound me to thee! On this spot I vow,
Never to hold communion with thee more.
Nay—speak not; I'll not listen to thy tongue.
Cavallo told me all. I came—I proved—
And found Fontano honest as the day.

Clau.
Alfonso, hear! In spite of all this rant,
I will be heard. 'Tis true! What thou hast heard
Is to the letter true! And as the crime
Is of a nature, that it mocks compare,
I will not stoop t'extenuate. Do thy worst.

Alf.
Unhappy Claudia! I blush for thee,
With mingled blushes of reproach and shame.
Within a convent's consecrated walls,
Perchance, thy soul may learn the sacred hope,
Which penitence can give. Sciolto!

Sciol.
Lord!

Alf.
I charge thee with the ministry of this.
Deep in a valley—near the rocky base
Of yon proud eminence—a convent stands,
Bosom'd in wood. I charge thee to convey
This guilty lady to its cloistered walls.

Clau.
(Impatiently.)
I am most ready, Signor, to attend thee.
Move on! Since fate ordains it, I submit;
E'en with a willing conscience. Lead the way.

Alf.
Claudia, alas! I cannot quit thee thus,
And yet refuse to grant thee my forgiveness.
Would that heaven's pardon were as easy won!

Clau.
And does thine anger, then, subside so soon?
Why is thy face so calm? Thy words so mild?
I like them not. Recall, and give me harsher!
Pour down those epithets, that suit me more:
These words unnerve me, for they wound my pride;
They wound me every way. Oh! curse me! curse me!—

Alf.
No! much as thou hast wrong'd me, I'll not wound
Thy guilty feelings more. I can but feel,
That once I lov'd thee with a lover's weakness;
And that though fall'n, degraded, as thou art,
I feel degraded too! So fare—thee—well!

(Sciolto goes up to Claudia.)
Clau.
(in an under tone.)
Whither, Sciolto, whither would'st thou lead me?
I'm going a journey, Signor, whither thou
One day wilt journey too. Now lead the way.
I'm not without a friend—a faithful friend,
And which, ere long, shall hide me from myself!

[Exit with Sciolto.
Alf.
Farewell—with that farewell, would I could lose
All memory of thee!
(A shriek without.)
What wild shriek was that? Sciolto—Claudia?

Re-enter Sciolto bearing Claudia.
Sciol.
She's done a deed, I have no power to tell:
Look on this hand, still grasping firm the dagger.

Alf.
What hast thou done, unhappy Claudia?—Ah!—
Did I not tell thee, I forgave thee all?
Why dost thou, therefore, tempt th' Eternal thus,
And render every hope of his forgiveness,
Still more remote and difficult to gain?

Clau.
Oh!—I have sinned beyond the wish of life;
Beyond the hope of pardon!—Oh Alfonso!
On the dark margin of eternity,
I feel myself a coward. Almighty Father!
Thy mercy is most infinite indeed,
If thou canst pardon such a wretch as I.

Alf.
Oh! lay thine head upon this pitying breast.

Clau.
Hide me, oh! hide me:—'twas Fontano's voice.
Where is thy daughter? She is ruin'd—yes!
Manfredi ruin'd her, and I her father.
Manfredi?—Viper!—Viper!—Viper!—What,
Cavallo too?—Begone!—Oh save me—save me.

(Dies in the arms of Sciolto.)
Alf.
Why have I liv'd to such an hour as this?
So rich in wealth, in power, in dignity,
To be thus indigent in happiness,
Is much, too much, for this sad breast to bear!

(Cavallo comes slowly from behind; and, after gazing some little time on Claudia, bursts into tears.)
Cav.
How could I wrong my children and myself,
In such a cause as this? Did I not owe
A heavier debt, than I can ever pay,
To them, to injured justice, and to heaven,
I'd not survive thee!—Oh! my dearest babes—
How will ye meet the cruel eyes of scorn,
With which the world will visit ye?—

[Exit.
Alf.
(To Sciolto.)
Bear her to Naples; give a tear to weakness:
And on her fate be all for ever silent.

(Attendants exeunt with Claudia.)
Fontano and Scipio come forward.
Fon.
My liege!

Alf.
I thank thee for this sympathy.
Ah—good Fontano—'tis a just decree,
That disappointment, misery, and pain,
Should breathe infection over lawless passion.

Fon.
Ah!—what a lesson does this scene convey!

(Scipio, seeing Alfonso give way to strong emotion, goes up to him.
Sci.
Nay—do not sigh, my sovereign lord!
My master says, that every word,
And every sigh, unjustly given,
Are entered in the book of heaven.
And oft I've heard my mother say,
The time will come—oh! blissful day!—
When sighs and tears are wip'd away.
Then do not weep. Let Claudia die;
She was not worth a single sigh!
—But there is one—
In yonder wild and rocky grove,
The maiden and her lover rove.
Oh!—do my sovereign lord, impart
Some comfort to my master's heart!
He ne'er can sleep, till they are found:
Then let us search the woods around:
Come! Let us search each dale and hill;
I, too, can never sleep, until
My noble master's heart is still.

Alf.
Surely this earth has never yet beheld
A being like thee!

Fon.
'Tis my guardian angel!

Sci.

But look, Signor. Who is that, coming hither
so fast, that he seems, as if he were ready to fall at
every step?

Enter Carlo, breathless.
Carlo.
The king! the king! which is the king, Alfonso?

Alf.
I am the king!—Thine errand, Signor?—speak it.

Carlo.
Angelo!—Angelina!—They will die!—
Albanio, he has seized them! they will die—
I can no more.

Fon.
Oh, gracious heaven, receive me!

[Falls into the arms of Alfonso and Sciolto.
Sci.
Oh, my poor master!—Oh, my dearest master. [Weeping.


[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Albanio's Rock. Troops in the back ground.
Albanio walking, to and fro, in great agitation.
Alb.
The world is all my enemy!—
Untouch'd, unsullied, I was once a Man:
Not in the form and symmetry alone,
But in the heart.—I once could breathe a sigh,
E'en at the touch of music;—press the hand
Of proffer'd friendship;—give a toy to children;
Join in their sports, and coin a smile at will.
But this curs'd charge has turn'd me to a tiger,
Without a tiger's reasoning!—I could love—
And yet I hate mankind. Oh, if the world
Would shed one tear of pity for my fate,—
Yes! I could love it still.—But ah, vile thought!
—But winds are weary of my imprecations!
Is all prepared?—

Spa.
The youth with bonds is bound.

Enter Polydore, leading in Manfredi, in disguise.
Spa.
What, ho!—Who art thou?

Manf.
Lead me to thy chief.
(Aside)
He cannot recognize this tarnished face,
And bending frame.—'Tis twenty years ago—

Alb.
(walking up to him, with a haughty air.)
Whence didst thou come, and whither wouldst thou travel?—
What is thine errand?—Art thou friend or foe?

Manf.
A friend.

Alb.
Whence?

Manf.
From Naples.

Alb.
Ah?—A friend from Naples?
Jewels from serpents! doves from leopards' dens!
Honey from spiders!—Yet a friend thou may'st be:—
The age of miracles has long since passed:
But it may come again: and thou, perhaps, the prophet.
Thy name?

Manf.
Marcello.

Alb.
'Tis a noble name!
Thine errand?

Manf.
Naples is thine own.

Alb.
How?—What?—All Naples?—

Manf.
Bends beneath thy frown.

Alb.
(blows his bugle; the troops form themselves into a semicircle, from one side of the stage to the other.)
Friends, comrades, brothers! here's a noble chief,
Sprung from the loins o great Marcello, come,
To give a limit to our labours. Speak!—

Manf.
All Naples and her sons—

Alb.
Speak—speak ye loud,
That all my friends may hear.—I pray you listen.

Manf.
I've paved the way: Lord Angelo is banish'd:
Fontano's eyes are withered; and Alfonso—

Alb.
What of the king?

Manf.
He dies by this right hand,
If 'tis Albanio's will.

Alb.
And what of Naples?

Manf.
Naples too shall fall.

Alb.
Oh, thou'rt a spirit of great power indeed!
Naples shall fall:—But what the instruments?

Manf.
Myself—these treasures,—Yes, the city falls

Alb.
(with an air of piercing investigation.)
By force or treachery?

Manf.
Which Albanio wills.
These are the keys of Naples.

[Placing them in Albanio's hand.
Alb.
Well,—I have them!
Now for Alfonso.

Manf.
Here's a poisoned dagger—

Alb.
Whose is 't?

Manf.
'Tis mine.

Alb.
And what thy rich reward,
For these important services?

Manf.
Fontano
Now scorns my power; Cavallo has betrayed me;
Fontano's daughter has been rescued,
E'en at a time, I thought possession sure.—

Alb.
(impatiently.)
The price—the price?

Manf.
Fontano's head: The head of Angelo:
The gift of Lady Angelina's person.

Alb.
Fontano's head? The head of Angelo?
The gift of Lady Angelina's person?—
—Yes! I hate ye—
E'en to the child unborn, ye sons of Naples!
Hate ye to my heart's core! My comrades, mark!
These are the keys of that detested city,
Whose charge against me, ye remember well.
—If Naples is to fall, it shall not fall by me,
If fraud must be the instrument. The dagger!
(In a half whisper.)
Where is the dagger? (Manfredi gives it him.)
Poisoned?—Well! now mark!
Amid the hated sons of hated Naples,
One stands pre-eminent—his name, Manfredi.
'Tis twenty years since I have seen him; and his visage
Is grown so bloated with the gifts of fortune,
That now I should not know him. To Manfredi,
When thou dost traverse the vast fields of hell,
Arm within arm, I charge thee bear this message.
Tell him, that though I hated him, when living,
As lambs hate wolves, my eager hate to Naples,
Far, far, exceeded all my hate to him.
He knows me pure; Naples believes me guilty.
Tell him, that though I hated both, as hell,
I hated traitors more. Thy lips are traitor's lips!

Manf.
(drawing a dagger, secretly, from under his robe.)
'Tis well I steep'd two daggers in the poison!
My plan, then, suits thee not?—Return my dagger,
And give me back my keys.

Alb.
—Impudent slave!
Return a poison'd dagger to a fiend,
Who has presum'd to take me for a brother?—
Did I not scorn to touch a thing, so mean,
So abject, and unutterably vile, I would—

[Turning from him with contempt.
Manf.
(aside.)
I slew thy wife—and now I'll ruin thee!
My heart has loath'd thee from that hour, accurs'd,
In which thy wife first froze me with a look
Of silent scorn;—then gave her charms to thee.
Give me, Albanio, give me back my dagger.

Alb.
Daggers to traitors! Am I wanting here?
[Putting his finger on his forehead.
I hate thee, reptile, for thine insolence.

Manf.
It is mine own; I claim it as mine own.

[Albanio waves his hand as a negative. Manfredi softly approaches him, and is about to stab him in the back; when Albanio turns suddenly upon him, wrests the dagger, and stabs him to the heart.
Manf.
May earthquakes swallow thee!—

Alb.
Now let the poison travel through thy veins,
Palsy thy nerves, and melt into thy marrow!—

Manf.
Fiend—Fiend of fortune! thou hast slain Manfredi!

Alb.
(Looking at him, as if he distrusted his own evidence.)
No!—I'll not trust the evidence of sight!—
Manfredi?—'tis impossible!—the fiend
At Naples is.—And yet that lowering eye,
Arch'd with malignant wrinkles, never can
Deform another face than his.—It is—it is—
[With savage ecstasy.
It is Manfredi;—'tis Manfredi's self!—

Troop.
Manfredi?

Alb.
Yes!—Manfredi!—
Now may yon sky rain daggers if it will.—

Spal.
Leave him to us, Signor, leave him to us.—

[Manfredi falls.—
Alb.
See! how the poison operates upon him!
Die, traitor, die; and take thy flight to hell.—
Look down, Francisca, I've reveng'd thy cause.
Now for mine own!—The hated youth shall die,
Since he believes me guilty like the rest.
Murder my wife?—My soul! my soul! my soul!
Ha! what a vile, detested, miscreant, race,
To credit such a tale!—Bear out the fiend;
And let his limbs so poison all the air,
That wolves and kites may die, while gorging on his body.
[They bear out the body of Manfredi.
(To Spalatro, in a half whisper.)
—What think ye now? Dost think my mind diseas'd?

Spal.
He, that thinks that, deserves the name for folly.—

Alb.
Ye mighty powers!—
Why hast thou humbled thus my towering pride?
What? Have ye made me, only to be victim
To the vile craft of such a fiend as this?—
A wretch so low, that, wearing human form,
Makes me to loathe the figure of a man.
Oh! Fortune!—arrogant and insolent!—
This is too much.—But I'll revenge my cause:
And turn this insult on the towers of Naples.

(He walks about in a disordered manner.— Troops are seen leading Angelo to the edge of a rock, and stand prepared to hurl him into the sea.)
Soldier.
All is now ready, Signor.

Poly.
Signor!—

Spal.
Peace!—He's disorder'd.—See ye how he smiles?
I never saw him smile e'en once before!
Signor, the youth of Naples is before you!

Alb.
(Starting.)
Where?

Ang.
(With a loud voice.)
Here!—

Alb.
Godlike in form, but demon in thy speech!
Demon! to charge me with Francisca's murder.
(To Spalatro.)
Charg'd he not so?—Truth blushes 'mid thy frowns.—
He did! He did! He is Manfredi's brother.

Angeli.
(Without.)
Where is Albanio?—tell me where he is!

Ang.
Eternal Heav'n!—I feel a thousand pangs
In every moment, I'm allow'd to live!—

[Angelina rushes in, in a wild and distracted manner.
Angeli.
Where is Albanio?—Is Albanio here?
(Seeing Albanio she stops, and assumes an air of dignity.)
And canst thou, dreadful minister of wrath,
Dar'st thou thus tamper with the lives of men?
Hast thou no dread of that avenging spirit,
That on the whirlwind of the frozen North,
Rides through the welkin of this lower world,
And hurls destruction on the tyrant's head?—

Alb.
No!—I have not. I fear no powers of earth,
Nor powers of air.—I scorn them all, but one:
And she has strung these sinews for REVENGE.—
Begone!—nor tempt me farther; lest thy pride
Brings on thy ruin too.—Begone!—Begone!
Francisca's spirit loudly cries “Revenge!”

Spal.
Lady!—Permit me;—yonder is Marcella.—

Angeli.
Signor! Stand off.—I am no woman now.
Wrongs have unsexed me. Hear thou MAN OF BLOOD!
Hear, whilst you may! And let these purple veins
Glut, if you will, the measure of your thirst:
But spare that noble victim, lest the might
Of some avenging God should seal thy ruin.

Alb.
Ruin? Away!—Ruin and I are brothers.
Hurl him, ye frantic idiots, to the shore.
Why do ye pause? I charge ye, hurl him down.
Would all the sons of Naples too were here,
That ye might hurl them to one common grave;
The grave of hatred, vengeance, and despair.
Then I could die, with ectasy, to-morrow!

Angeli.
Stay—stay yon hands! I charge ye pause to hear.
Heaven ne'er will spare you, if ye spare not him.
Forbear—forbear.—Albanio! dost thou know,
That yonder youth is Nature's noblest son?
—Shouldst' thou wound him!—
The great Eternal will avenge his cause,
And heap more woes, and ruin on thine head,
Than ever fell to one man's lot before!

Alb.
Sure 'tis some spirit, that appals me thus!
A voice from heaven!—I have oft times heard,
That injured virtue has the power to call
An angel's spirit, from the gates of heaven.

Angeli.
Let not thy passions tempt thee on to ruin!
This hour—this fatal hour—alone is thine:
The next may lead thee to eternity:
And, in that dread eternity, what woes,
What woes unheard—unthought of—may assail thee.

Alb.
Lady!—An oath most solemn is, and sacred.
I would not break one for an Indian mine,
Teeming with emeralds and sapphires.—

Angeli.
—Ah!
But Heaven, I'm sure, would pardon such an act:
Since, now to do it, constitutes a virtue.—

Alb.
Did he not say, that I had stabb'd my Wife?
Could he stab thee?—could he, at midnight hour,
Have struck the bosom, that he rested on,
And turn its snow to crimson?—Out!—The charge
Is second only to the deed itself.—

Angeli.
Is the charge false?—I've heard it from my childhood.—

Alb.
Just Heaven! she drives me frantic:—Is it true?
Look on this hand! see'st blood upon it?—Speak.
When a man stabs, this is the fatal hand,
With which he does the deed.—See ye ought there?

Ang.
'Tis white as snow!

Alb.
I charge thee, look again.—
Not all the waters of the Atlantic waste
Could e'er have wash'd the bloody stains away,
Had it but once been sullied with this deed.
—But what?—what wild and sacred vision's this?
An angel minist'ring!—Francisca's form!
List—how rich music floats amid the spheres:—
Angel of love!—I kneel to hear thine errand. (Kneels.)

So soon to leave me!—Oh!—thou martyr'd angel!
See—how she floats upon the balmy air; (rises.)

Rising to heaven, mid pyramids of rubies!—

Angeli.
Oh! let thy wife speak volumes, then, for me.—
Spare him—oh! spare him—

Alb.
Polydore!—My soul—
My soul seems starting to a new existence.

Angeli.
May he then live?

Alb.
Oh! what is life to me?
Yes! he may live, for ages, if he will:
And so may all that breathe;—so that Albanio dies!

Angeli.
Oh! heaven—I thank thee.—Angelo—my love!—
Thou'rt free!—thou liv'st!—I fly to loose thy chains.

[Flies to Angelo's rock.
(A confused noise of distant trumpets, and a clang of arms.)
Alb.
What means this clang of arms?
[Appears, for a short time, as if stupified; then suddenly resumes all his energy.
—To arms!—to arms!—
Unsheath your swords, and shew, that ye are men!—
It is our enemy from Naples.—Charge!—
He has surpriz'd us in our secret haunts.
To arms!—to arms!—It is Albanio calls ye!

[Enter Alfonso and Sciolto, at the head of the Neapolitan troops.—A battle ensues.—Albanio throws himself into the thickest of the battle; but receiving

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a wound, and finding himself unable to make head against the assailants, he rushes forward, and throws his sword at the feet of Alfonso.—Silence immediately ensues.
Alb.
Alfonso, thou hast conquered!
Firm is thine arm, most prudent thy resolves,
And all thy plans matur'd.—I've hurl'd my sword—
To save my Comrades' blood! Hundreds must yield
To well appointed Thousands!
[After struggling with his pride, some little time, he adds in a subdued manner;
I would ask
One favour of thee, e'er I pay the price
Of misdirected vengeance.

Alf.
Speak!

Alb.
My comrades—
I won them from thee!—Let the penalty
Rest then on me.—Restore them to their country.

Alf.
(After a pause.)
The boon is granted.

Alb.
I return thee thanks.
Now then my life wanes swiftly to its close.—
Oh! What a dream of horror have I past!—
My mind has long been withering!—But I feel,
I feel,—alas!—too late,—that I have sinn'd,
Beyond the common measure of a crime,
To let mine anger take a range so wide.
But if I've sinn'd—Thou, also, hast transgress'd:
Witness the wise Fontano!—since

Angeli.
(Rushing from behind).
My father!
Tell me, oh tell me, where my father travels.—

Fon.
(coming from the opposite side of the stage.)
Oh heaven! I die with gratitude and joy.
It is my daughter. 'Tis my daughter's voice!

Ang.
Can this be possible?

Angeli.
Ye mighty powers!
It is,—it is,—it is, indeed, my father!

[Falls into Fontano's arms.
Font.
My daughter! daughter! oh! my dearest daughter!

Alb.
Fontano?—Angelo?—Fontano's daughter?—
Oh!—What a crime have I escaped! my mind—
My eyes seem clouded:—And my heart is broken!—
(Suddenly pulls off his military dress: a tattered robe appears beneath.)
Know ye this robe?
Alas!—ye know it not.
It is the robe in which I fled from Naples.
Ye men of Naples—ye've accused me long
Of murder;—foulest murder,—of my wife!
[To Angelina in a frantic whisper.
Yes! of my wife!—my martyr'd angel wife!
That is the charge, that has unmann'd me; stay!
Was not that cruel charge—oh! lady—lady,
Pity my ruin'd intellect.—The moon—
See—how she rides triumphant;—like the fair,
The gentle angel, that Albanio loves.—
Nay—do not shrink, as if I were a monster!
I will not, cannot, harm thee!
All believe me guilty!—
Yes—they believe me guilty even now!
Fiend of the soul!—thy rage seems fell and endless.—
See! see! again—my angel! yes! the dagger
Still rends thy heart, and reddens all thy bosom.
[Retreating towards the rock.
Away! let no one interrupt me—hence—away!
Death is to me a paradise!—away!—
[Arrived at the precipice.
If INNOCENT to Heaven!—If GUILTY down to Hell.
I hear thee, Martyr!—Yes—I come—I come!
Now for life's masterpiece!

[Stabs himself, and falls from the precipice into the SEA beneath.