University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Palace Garden, at Night. On one side, the Palace lighted—on the other, the Sea.
AREZZI.
Their shadows move upon the walls within,
And o'er the softer cadences of song,
I hear their mirth! what was so pleasant once—
Night with her coolness, and that crimson moon
Whose rising wakes the nightingale—the flowers,
Too prodigal of their dewy sweetness, now
Tire and offend. I would not breathe again
The orange-blossom's fragrance thus, or hear
The fountain waters dash their marble vase.
No sounds disturb the moonlight sea beyond:
They seem to rest whose barks are anchored there,
This music does not reach to them!—but I
Shall sleep no more till death—my heart still tells me
Its throbs are numbered.—Among so many blessed,
There is but one that can remember yet
The wretch shut out:—she would forget me too
If fear were not as strong as this new love—
Now they must watch together, and a breast
So innocent once, become the incestuous couch
Where shame engenders falsehood! Let her bring
New lies upon her lips, and then go back
To flutter in the light of those fair halls,
Breathe their sweet incense, render sigh for sigh,
Or dubious pressure of dividing palms,
And blush beneath the lengthened gaze of love—
She did so, late, with me.—The strongest takes her,
And I, who might be such, stand here aloof
For fools to bate and hoot at!—hark—she comes—
[Enter Cicilia.
You keep your faith in this.

CICILIA.
I do indeed—
In this, and all things else—if not toward all,
At least with you.

AREZZI.
I would have doubted once
The vows of dying saints as soon, or spurned
A vestal's sacraments.

CICILIA.
Then why not still?
What promise have I made and broke—Arezzi?

AREZZI.
You said that you would love me.

CICILIA.
So I do.

AREZZI.
Ay—as you love ten thousand—all mankind—
Your neighbour and your enemy—for this
Heaven bless your charity!

CICILIA.
O! patience—patience—

AREZZI.
Then do not mock me—I am wretched now,
And speak I scarce know what. There is a time
When grief is less than misery, and respires
A mournful fragrance for the sighs it breathes—
Such melancholy greets its sorrows mildly,
And dallies with light pangs: but after this
Comes bitterness accursed and unallayed,
Whose taste is torment. No man ever yet
Knew and endured it long—though many talk
Of patience wisely, many too have borne
Life's miseries nobly—these had light within;
Their darkness was not blackness, helpless, hopeless—
They never felt as I do, or their cries
Had been as loud as mine.

CICILIA.
What shall I say?—
Believe me still, Arezzi.

AREZZI.
Speak the truth,
And then I will—say that a man should keep
His follies to himself, and hide his shame—
That the proud heart may burst, but not repine—
That he who tells its sufferings, owns its baseness.—
I say so too myself—disdain, not tears,
Should meet the unfaithful—but that fire consumes
First peace, then manhood; levels pride, and brings
Our strength to this.

CICILIA.
You will not hear me speak!

AREZZI.
Say that you love me still.

CICILIA.
I do.

AREZZI.
But how?
Now speak and save me if you do—my brain
Rocks dizzily, and from the sea and air
I hear a voice which calls me—I may bring
On other heads than ours that palace roof—
So—all will perish! Promise to be mine—
Give me that hand again.

CICILIA.
I cannot promise.

AREZZI.
No—why?

CICILIA.
I have already promised.

AREZZI.
Ah!
To whom, Cicilia?

CICILIA.
Nothing more than that
Which truth and honor will confirm, believe me.

AREZZI.
What promise—and to whom?

CICILIA.
This is unjust.

AREZZI.
Tell me that promise—I must know what promise—

CICILIA.
I am unhappy too—you will not hear me.

AREZZI.
Speak plainly, and I will—there is a promise?
Now tell me what it is.

CICILIA.
I cannot tell you.

AREZZI.
Dissembler—traitress!

CICILIA.
You will grieve hereafter
That you have called me such. It is because
The faith which never bent its gaze from you,
Is kept toward all.

AREZZI.
Hast promised love to all?

CICILIA.
To none but you.

AREZZI.
What double vows are these?

CICILIA.
If you have ever loved me yet—believe me,
And ask no more.

[Arezzi kisses her.
AREZZI.
I am content—farewell!
Be wise and secret—keep your promise now—
Still talk of faith and honor!—What I blame
Is not that Fancy changes, or that Love
Hath eyes for gold—but that, while truth were safest,
You chose deceit, and made me feel my shame
Even worse than all the rest—now go—adieu!

CICILIA.
Alas! not thus, Arezzi!—Let us part
As those who love unhappily, but feel
No worse than grief.—You will think justly yet:
Yes—when it is too late, you will believe me!
If we must part—it should be somewhere else—
Not here, where love began! These walks are witness
Of what it has been!

AREZZI.
Cruel! to speak of this!

CICILIA.
If I were what you call me, should I stand
To wait and sue—bear injuries like these—
And say I love you still?

AREZZI.
Tell me that promise—
You see my soul tormented—O! no, no!
You might have bidden farewell without deceit
Said that you must forsake me—left me here
Less shameful tears!—I could have loved you then
Through time and sorrow, still unchanged, and mourned
The lost, as those we weep, yet think in Heaven.

CICILIA.
I can do more, Arezzi—love the unkind,
Forgive the ungrateful—sorrow for the lost—
Bear shame itself unchanged—hopeless, still pray—
Wronged and suspected, keep my faith—and bid
Farewell without reproach. I have forgotten
My place too long—a princess and a maid
Has sued unheeded, unbelieved, and stooped
Her head to this—we shall not meet again
For anger and disgrace!—Farewell, Arezzi.

[Exit.
AREZZI.
If this should be a dream—this dreadful half
Of what I fear and suffer—let me find
Her bosom unpolluted when I wake,
And sleep again for ever!—Grief can raise
Its dæmons, and the hot and jealous brain
Is quick with fallacies—better doubt these
Than that which ever yet was truth! It is
Savelli's lie—Gerardo's—Gabriel's—Florez—
An universal lie! and she who owns them,
Has made no promises! Thus will I use
Her truth against her word—and keep my patience
While that most gracious and lacivious fool
Shall question which loves most—which most she loves—
Gaze in her eyes provoking smiles, and force
Reluctant kisses from the severed lips
Till passion yield them—what I dare not ask,
Take as his right.—O! but he never shall—
Never till I am dust! I hope not then.

[Exit.