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The Count Arezzi

A Tragedy, In Five Acts
  
  
  

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SCENE IV.
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SCENE IV.

The State Prison.—Night.
Duchess, Prince of Andria, Provost, and Attendants.
PRINCE ANDRIA.
My brother and a friar? What friar? Savelli?


164

PROVOST.
I do not know his name—he called himself
Confessor to the Count, and as I think,
He also said his tutor. After these
There came a female, veiled, who prayed to see him—
She wept and offered gold.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
And you refused it?

PROVOST.
I answered as became mine office—prince.
Still she besought and wept.

DUCHESS.
And how, at last?

PROVOST.
She called her maids and left me.

DUCHESS.
Veiled—with servants!
You that can bar your doors against a woman,
Might shut them to a monk.

PROVOST.
I would have done so:
But one was brother to his Grace, and both
Spoke loudly of their rights.

DUCHESS.
That female speaks
Ever of her's too meekly—sir, she is kin
To him and me.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Well, mend your error now—
And since you have them, keep them.—By my truth,

165

They both shall tarry where they are! Dost hear?
Put them in ward—you have my warrant for it.
Who knows these foxes' earths? O! Guido, you;
Go—search their cells. Meet us at home—make haste.
[Exit Officer.
What prisoners have you here beside the Count?

PROVOST.
There is Allori, Rota, Guazzo, Vasi,
And that Cimbelli.—

PRINCE ANDRIA.
Stop now—some one told me
The last of these was dead.

PROVOST.
'Twas so believed—
He fell, with eight or ten of those he fought with,
Twice down the stairs. Many he struck are maimed—
He was but stunned.

DUCHESS.
Then, Provost, let us see him.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
And make that rumor spread itself: his friends
May speak the plainer if they think him dead.

DUCHESS.
Walk on, and show the way.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
But first, your Grace
Will send our letter to the duke?

DUCHESS.
Come with me—

166

Better tell all ourselves.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
What, now?

DUCHESS.
Why not?
This secret has been kept too long.

PRINCE ANDRIA.
We must
Be speedy with it then: the clock strikes two—
At three the council will attend us here.

DUCHESS.
Provost, we shall return—stay where you are.

[Exeunt.