 | The Count Arezzi |  |
SCENE V.
An Apartment in the Palace.Duchess, Prince of Andria and Cimbelli.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Where does he pass his hours?
DUCHESS.
And how, Cimbelli?
CIMBELLI.
Why many in the sunshine on the shore,
Where walls once stood, and weeds and briars abound—
Wherever there is room to sit and sigh in;
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Where he can watch the lizards.—For the how—
In plucking up those weeds, and from those stones,
In stripping off that ivy. He will mark
Some beetle's wanderings till the sun goes down,
From noon; has skill in reptiles—knows throughout
The courtships of a cockchafer.
DUCHESS.
And you
Are fellow to his studies?
CIMBELLI.
Yes, sometimes.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Then tell us what you learn.
CIMBELLI.
That young men's eyes,
Like old ones' spectacles of green or yellow,
Give color to the things they see, but take
Their virtues from their fancies.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Well.
CIMBELLI.
The Count
Doubts if the swarms of earth be blessed or no,
And moralizes mournfully on moths.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
And you?
CIMBELLI.
I love their Iris-tinted wings
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Warlike and full of pride, from head to heel
Bright in their burnished panoply—and think
That all God's creatures should be blessed. Arezzi
Sits like a sea-bird on some rock retired,
Eyeing the waters—Fancy helps his sight
To sound their depths and reach all sorrowful things.—
There rots the gilded argosy, and near,
Scattered with weeds and shells, some mariner's bones,
For ever fretted with the restless tide.
He sees the ring priest-blessed, or young Love's token
Unhappy and unhallowed, like his own.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
And prithee what see you?
CIMBELLI.
My thoughts the while
Sport gaily in their amorous musings, pleased
To pave the coral grots with pearls, and light
Their jasper roofs with naphtha. From below
Some green-eyed mermaid sees me—when I smile,
She smiles, and combs the tresses from her brow:
Timorous and coy, yet captive to my prayers.
I make me friends of tritons: I can find—
Wrecked in the sands full three score years ago—
Huge butts of delicate wine. The dolphins tell
The marvels of the ocean—while they sing,
I teach my merry orks to drink—your Grace
Believes that there be mermaids?
DUCHESS.
Well, what then?
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Why then the rest is easier to believe.
DUCHESS.
And thus his hours run wastefully!
CIMBELLI.
Even thus—
Nay, sometimes worse.
DUCHESS.
How worse? I hope not worse?
CIMBELLI.
Believe me, so.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Speak plainly.
CIMBELLI.
He will sit
Fixed like some pondering river god in stone,
All but the beard—Narcissus sick at heart,
Or garden Pan regardless. I can tell
The hours, as on a dial, by his shade,
His nose the gnomon.—This is worse—to wait
Undined the while he muses.
DUCHESS.
You should speak
Good counsel to his too much thought.
CIMBELLI.
I do.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
What is it then?
CIMBELLI.
I tell him he has lost
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Whose stray loves meet, and live in love together—
The favor of her highness; that your Grace
Is little satisfied withal; that soon—
As sequent to the fashion of these losses—
He must lose me.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
So, comfort comes at last!
And now what more?
CIMBELLI.
That moneyless means witless,
And parting kindness leaves its room to hate.
That better had it been to live a beggar,
Borrowing his blushes while he lies for bread,
Than born in nobleness, feel pride a hindrance,
And blush indeed to beg. He must have hidden
Some sin from all beside—some pestilent sin
Which cleaves unto him still; for never yet
Did one so young and lovely lose such friends,
Unless his youth were blistered by disgrace,
Remorse or baseness tainted it, his lips
Were perjured at the altar—he had earned
The name of coward—traitor!
DUCHESS.
Traitor! villain?
Away thou ill-tongued idiot.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Get thee forth.
CIMBELLI.
I pray your highness hear—
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Arezzi's friend!
His name was never whispered with distaste,
Till paired with thine—Cimbelli!
CIMBELLI.
Yet, your Grace—
DUCHESS.
Thou vapour from some sewer! what, perjured too!
A coward perjured! That vile scalp were honor'd
To keep the pavement chillness from his feet.—
Who waits without?
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Go, babble somewhere else.
[Exit Cimbelli.
Come, patience, hush!
DUCHESS.
Andria, I have been patient,
But will not listen to a slave like this.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
You did not understand him,—fool, or no,
His trap has caught your Grace.
DUCHESS.
And, liar or no,
Part that he said was truth—we wrong Arezzi,
And teach the rest to wrong him.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
O, God forbid!
DUCHESS.
What others think, this speaks. Who love us best
Are last to judge; we change us by the moon;
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Where innocence tarries but a night, and leaves
Its room for some worse guest. What has he done,
That all should thus forsake him?
PRINCE ANDRIA.
But who forsakes him?
Is it not he that flies?
DUCHESS.
And why?
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Because
We wisely hold our tongues.
DUCHESS.
Alas! this wisdom!
Our loathed old policy! while his caged spirit
Flutters tormented with its pains and fears,
We scowl the remnant of its hopes away,
And rob it of the light we gave.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
But hear me—
What have we else to do?
DUCHESS.
Speak out—and boldly
Claim our poor child as ours.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Well, let it be so.
My policy was not for me, but both.
We will not wait our answer, then, from Spain,
But bravely spurn the policy you hate,
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So now—what are we? first Arezzi's parents,
Cicilia's kindred, guardians of the duke,
The king's true counsellors—yea, we do wisely
To bawl our history first in beggars' ears,
Make the Toledo ring with it; fill full
The squares, the quays, the markets, and the mole,—
Naples through all its taverns, cloisters, stalls,
From caverned wine vat, to the chimnies' top—
With wonder at this rarity—and next
Whisper our secret to the king; good now—
This is indeed to strain at policy!
While patience for a week may smooth the whole,
And set us right with all.
DUCHESS.
Do as you will.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
Nay, by the holy saints! it is my will
To wrestle with my wisdom—what we do
Is your will, and so mine.
DUCHESS.
Thus it is ever—
I have my will, it seems, and you your way.
[Exeunt.
| The Count Arezzi | |