University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

—A HALL OF JUSTICE IN THE DUCAL PALACE.
Enter on one side Claudio with Officers, &c. and Venilla on the other, in mourning, and attended by Gentlemen.
Venilla.
My lord, I'm happy to encounter you
Before I range myself as your accuser:
I would not you should think me of a spirit
Basely litigious, that would make this court
The arbiter where honour should decide,
And bear sole sway: still less should I desire
To prosecute vexatiously my appeal,
When you, had my lost kinsman been alive,
Would stand most justly here as the appellant:
But, as it is, beseech you, sir, to think
This course is but pursued to clear your fame,
And so remove all taint upon my love
Due to my kinsman dead.

Claudio.
I thank you, sir,
And trust that in the end I may shew worthy
Of so much favor in your thought.

Enter Raffaelle and Julio.
Raffaelle.
They understood me right?

Julio.
Doubt not, my lord.

Raffaelle.
Tell them to herd among the common rabble:
Be not you seen too near them; when they're sworn,
Let them go instant to my house. Lord Claudio,
Good-day; I'm glad to find the time so near,
For your deliverance: my lord Venilla,
I think you doubt not of his innocence—
This scarcely need be heard before the duke.

Claudio.
I thank you, lord Cimaro, for your kindness,
But as I dread no malice, I would rather
This trial should proceed; to crush it now
Would favour rumour, not alone 'gainst me,
But my good lord Venilla.

Raffaelle.
It may be;
And truly 'twill be better since you doubt not
A fortunate result. The duke is coming,
And with him all the nobles.

Enter Duke and Senators, they take their seats.
Duke.
Before we enter on the present business
For which we are assembled, as an earnest
Of our high favour to the lord Cimaro
We do invest him with the sword of state,
To bear it as our marshal in our city.

Raffaelle.
My lord, I humbly thank your grace; my service,
Poor as it is—is freely yours; my zeal
Shall strive to merit that your bounty now
Has cast on me untried.

Duke.
'Tis well, my lord;
Now to your suit—proclaim the court begun—

Crier.

I do hereby cite the lord Venilla, the
accuser in this case, to come forward and prove
his charge registered in this court against the
lord Claudio. Long live the Duke!

Venilla.
My lord, I will not tire with idle words
The patience of this most august assembly:
I stand here to accuse lord Claudio
That he hath slain Vincentio, my kinsman;
And crave your highness' hearing in this cause
Rather for him than for myself; for I
Will, with your pleasure, wait his open answer;
First stating that which he hath not denied,
That by his hand the dead Vincentio fell.
If without reason, of a brutish rage,
This deed hath been committed,—then I crave
The vengeance of the law upon his head.
That by lord Claudio's hand my kinsman died
Needs no more proof than this, that he was found
Standing beside the dead Vincentio's corpse,
And his drawn rapier reeking in his blood;
If he deny not this, let him reply,
What cause he had to kill him: on his answer
Prov'd by what witness he may call before you
My subsequent proceeding will depend.

Duke.
Claudio! your answer to Venilla's charge.

Claudio.
First then, my lord, to save the court some time,
I do confess by me Vincentio fell,
And grieved I am at the occasion, yet
To save myself this means alone remained.
For on my life the attack was made by him;
Lorenzo saw the onset, and I trust
Is here to prove the truth of what I speak.

Duke.
Is lord Lorenzo here?

Raffaelle.
My lord, he is not,
He may be waiting in the galleries—
Let him be called.

(Exit Attendant.)
Duke.
Are any others here
That can bear witness upon this occasion.

A Monk steps forward.
Raffaelle.
Did you expect this evidence, lord Claudio?

Claudio.
No, my good lord,

Raffaelle.
I thought you knew him not.

Duke.
(To the Monk.)
Who art thou?

Monk.
Good my lord, of holy order:
Paolo is my name; a Dominican.
First may I ask—was't near my lord Lorenzo's
The fray took place?

Duke.
It was; know'st thou of it?

Monk.
Near there, my lord, upon that fatal day,
Chancing to walk in solitary thought,
I saw this nobleman, with hurried step,
Pacing behind the ruin's broken wall;
Ever he rubb'd with trembling hand his brow
That seem'd all pale and moist with agitation.
At last I heard the sound of other feet;
He rush'd half madly forth—I saw no more.

Claudio.
How!

Raffaelle.
Peace, lord Claudio!—the duke would speak.

Duke.
Follow'd you not?—how was't you saw no more?

Monk.
Alas! my lord, I am an aged man,
Bent down with years, and fearful in my nature;
He that would lay in ambush for a foe,
Might murder me.

Claudio.
I murder thee!

Raffaelle.
(Half aside.)
I would beseech you, my lord Claudio, peace:
You know not the emotion you betray.

Claudio.
Can I hear this—and yet remain unmoved?
Thou liest, old man.

Raffaelle.
(To the Monk.)
Have you aught more to say?

Monk.
I have no more—and that I have spoken truly
Methinks these years should witness: I have nought
To hope for in this world: look, good my lord,
And judge by him if I speak not the trhth.

Raffaelle.
(To Claudio.)
I feared this from your rashness—be more calm—
Has your grace aught to ask of this man more?

Duke.
Not now—let him stand by awhile.

Raffaelle.
Yet stay,
Lord Claudio, would you I should try his truth—
Or were it best to hear no more from him?

Claudio.
I have no cause to fear, my lord Cimaro,
In shewing all the truth.

Raffaelle.
Then I've one question—
In what dress was lord Claudio habited?

Monk.
He wore a large dark mantle which fell from him
As he leapt out the gap.

Venilla.
There was one found.

Monk.
And as he drew aside his vest there beamed,
In the moon's gentle ray—that fell upon it,
A ruby bright and large—hung round his neck
By a thin chain of gold.

Duke.
Is't so indeed?
Sure that bright jewel, matchless in Mantua,
Which was found near, and which had once belonged
To the noble lady de Commenes was this.

Raffaelle.
I thought that this would work. (Aside)
Lord Claudio:
I know not what to say—ask somewhat of him
That may dispel this fearful mystery.

Duke.
Lord Claudio, would you more with him?

Claudio.
My lord,
I do disdain to question him—to all
I do oppose Lorenzo's testimony:
Would he were here: my advocate was sent
To seek for him.

Raffaelle.
(Aside)
If found he could not help you:
Are there no others that can speak of this?
I hope there may, to prove this old man's malice;
And yet I know not what could tempt him to't.

A Peasant steps forward.
Duke.
Come you to speak of this?

Peasant.
So please your highness,
Going from Mantua homeward on that day,
Two passed me on the road; and one was muffled
In a black cloak: as they walk'd by, the other
Said to him—“Two might do the business surer:”
The one replied—“But you have no disguise,
And, should Vincentio 'scape, that might be fatal.”
More I heard not, for they went on full quickly,
And I'd a heavy burden.

Duke.
Look around you,
If any be of the same height with him
You saw thus muffled.

Peasant.
'Twas about the height
Of yonder nobleman. (Pointing to Claudio.)


Raffaelle.
Art sure of that?
Quite sure?

Peasant.
I am, my lord.

Raffaelle.
It cannot be:
Were you, lord Claudio, thus habited?
Who saw you on that day can prove you were not?

Claudio.
I was so dressed.

Raffaelle.
Yet there walked no one with you?

Claudio.
There was one;
But for the rest I know but that 'tis false.

Duke.
Who was the other?

Claudio.
'Twas the lord Lorenzo.
Who left me near his villa.

Duke.
Whither went you?

Claudio.
Towards the villa of the lady Commenes.

(With Hesitation)
Duke.
Your answer is confused: I fear Lorenzo
Comes not lest he should witness too against you,
Or else be prov'd accomplice in this guilt:
Would you ask more of him?

Claudio.
My gracious lord,
I am amazed at this evidence;
'Tis all a tissue of malicious falsehood;
I know not who has moved them thus against me.

Raffaelle.
(Aside)
He gasps within the eddy of a whirlpool,
And his last struggles draw him to the gulph.
Yes, he himself shall minister his fate.
(To Claudio)
Yet, my lord Claudio, you have one hope—
If this arise from malice, I'll disprove it:
Let all the witnesses be taken hence.
(Exeunt Attendants with Witnesses.)
My lord Alphonso, as I think, Vincentio
Was with you here in Mantua privately,
Upon some feigned business, a short time
Before he made th' attempt on Claudio's life.

Alphonso.
He was, my lord, and from his secrecy
Yourself and I alone could know of it.
He passed forth disguised as a monk,
And changed his habit at a little cottage,
About a mile from Mantua.

Raffaelle.
'Tis well;
If there be any malice in their proof
They will convict themselves: 'tis plain he went
From Mantua thither; should the peasant swear
He saw him undisguised, and near to Mantua;
Or should they err, led by the gen'ral rumour,
To think that he was coming from his villa.

Claudio.
I see it, good my lord, and thank you much.

Duke.
Call in the peasant.
Enter Attendants with Peasant.
How far was't from Mantua
Lord Claudio pass'd you?

Peasant.
As I think, my lord,
'Twas half a mile.

Duke.
Saw you Vincentio after?

Peasant.
No, my lord, I saw none save an old monk.

Duke.
At what time did he pass you?

Peasant.
'Twas at sun-set.

Duke.
Thence 'tis about two miles to where he fell.
Let them bring in the monk.
Enter Attendants with Monk.
Whence came the sounds
Of footsteps—from the side of Mantua
Or from the villa of the lady Commenes?

Monk.
From that of Mantua, my lord, which seem'd
Most strange to me, when I heard more of this:
'Twas said Vincentio was at his villa,
But this way I am sure I heard his footsteps.

Duke.
Aye,
At what time was't you saw the stranger rush
From forth the ruin?

Monk.
Somewhat past an hour
After the sun had set.

Claudio.
I know not how—
This tale hangs well together, but 'tis false.

Duke.
My lord, the evidence is mighty 'gainst you,
Unless you can excuse, or shew most clearly
'Twas in your own defence you did this deed,
I have no power to turn the rigorous law
From the dread doom of death.

Claudio.
My lord, I am o'erwhelm'd—I cannot speak
More than—'tis false. (To the Monk)
Old man, thy life is short,
And heaven will require a strict account
Of such blaspheming of thy holy office.

Duke.
Exclaims are vain, unless thou hast some proof,
Or cause to urge to mitigate the law,
Thy life is forfeit.

Raffaelle.
My gracious prince—if Claudio hath done this,
As it appears, some reason of strong weight
Urged him to such a deed: I cannot think
Without some deep and heart-felt injury
He would assassinate Vincentio.
Speak, my lord Claudio—confess the truth,
That justice may with mercy be attempered,
Leave not thy name an infamy to man,
For causeless murder. Speak, and shew thy wrongs,
It nought avails to combat this strong proof.

Claudio.
No—I have said—some deadly unseen foe
That dares not bear his cause upon his sword,
Has prompted these to lie against my life.
I will not compromise my innocence:
They that have sworn this know that it is false.

Duke.
I grieve thy fate, but know not how to avoid it:
Had I the power I would spare thee yet.

(Consults with Senators.)
Raffaelle.
(Aside.)
Now triumph, Claudio, in thy lady's love!
The hands that should have clasp'd about thy neck,
May now weave chaplets for thy timeless grave;
Thy hymeneal song shall be a dirge;
Thy nuptial bed—the cold and lifeless tomb:
Whilst I shall revel in thy mistress' beauties,
And quaff nectareous sweets from her soft lip,
As the dull grave-worm draws itself o'er thine,
My heart shall beat with ecstacy of joy
As thine shall throb the last of agony.
(To him)
Oh! Claudio! dote not on the name of innocence;
Confess, and boldly trust the duke with all:
Thy state is at the worst—a milder sentence
May greet repentant sorrow. (Claudio looks firm but distressed.)

(Aside.)
What! does this sting, lord Claudio? This is he
Who would wed her I love.

Duke.
There is no hope—
No power in the law—that can defer
Your instant execution.

Raffaelle.
(Aside.)
There is no hope!
My dear friend, Claudio! (Aside)
That such a thing
Should be Cimaro's rival!

Enter an Officer.
Officer.
The lord Lorenzo, faint and wounded, waits
For entrance to the court.

Duke.
Lorenzo wounded!
Let him come in at once—conduct him hither.

Raffaelle.
Curse on the fool that let him 'scape. (Aside)
Make way there.
Now my dear lord—I trust your honour's saved. (to Claudio.)

Enter Lorenzo supported.
Fool that I was to trust a common stabber!—
So the man dies they think they've done enough—
(to Lorenzo,)
My lord, sit down, your wounds are painful to you (Seats him in the Marshal's chair.)


Duke.
Tell to the court how this befel, Lorenzo.

Lorenzo.
Pardon, my Lord, I'm faint with loss of blood—
I scarce can speak, for, passing from my villa,
Near to the spot where Claudio slew Vincentio,
A ruffian blow left me for dead, 'till one
Pass'd by and bound my wound—at my desire
Procured conveyance hither—

Duke.
This is strange
And looks indeed like malice against Claudio.
My lord Cimaro, cause fit search be made
To bring the villain to just punishment;
For by his means we may discover more.

Lorenzo.
I saw him not—I fell by his first blow.

Raaffelle.
My lord I'll institute immediate quest,
If these things are permitted, there's no safety
For honest men in Mantua—I'll look to it.

Duke.
But what says lord Lorenzo?—

Lorenzo.
Good my lord,
Upon the day—Oh I am faint!

Raffaelle.
He'll die;
Would 't were before he could hear Claudio!

Duke.
Rest for a while.

Lorenzo.
My lord I yet have breath,
And while I yet can speak—I will attest
The innocence of Claudio—

Duke.
Thank Heaven

Lorenzo.
I parted with him near the abbey walls
I tow'rd my villa, he tow'rd Commenes,
When turning to observe the rising moon,
Which shone full brightly o'er the mouldering arches,
I saw Vincentio rush from forth the ruin
And aim a deadly blow at Claudio;
His sword pierc'd but the mantle of my friend,
Who instant drew—and, ere I gain'd the spot,
Had kill'd him—at the moment that I reach'd him,
A Peasant too came up, who had not seen
More than Vincentio's fall—I would be spared,
For life ebbs with me—

Duke.
'Tis enough, Lorenzo.
Where are the Monk and Peasant?

Raffaelle.
Gone, my lord,—
I see them not—.

Duke.
Let search be made for them:
Meanwhile lord Claudio—you are free—and trust me,
I am most thankful heav'n hath interfered
To spare to me the sin of too rash judgment;
Fearful indeed, is the dread task of rulers,
Had not Lorenzo sped thus to your aid,
I should have sent you to that fatal doom,
Which all my sorrows could not have recall'd.
Lord marshal see that search be made for all
Who have abetted in this traiterous plot,
And they shall feel the vengeance of the law.

Raffaelle.
Doubt not, my lord, with joy I undertake
The task of vengeance on lord Claudio's foes.
(Aside)
For were't another's office 'twere my death.

Duke.
Break up the Court. (Exeunt Duke Senators, &c.)


Raffaelle.
Pardon, my dear lord Claudio,
That I have been so tardy in the offering
Of my congratulations—but my joy,
At your deliverance, was too full for speech,
You know, I trust, my friendship.

Claudio.
Aye, my lord—
I have not in my safety aught more pleasing
Than is the power to return my thanks t'ye

Raffaelle.
I fear'd indeed I had been too officious
But you will pardon it.

Claudio.
I knew your meaning,
And therefore could not but be thankful for't.

Raffaelle.
That would be strange if you had known my meaning.— (Aside)

I must begone to order instant search
For these false witnesses—I will not fail
To see you shortly, and I trust to bring them
Within your power—so I'll take my leave.
Farewell—damn'd—damn'd—damn'd chance—but I've not done. (Aside)


(Exit.)
Lodovico.
That's a brave spirit—he's a true friend, Claudio!
But that their cunning was past human wisdom
He would have sure discovered it—as 'tis.
You are indebted to him for the attempt.

Claudio.
I think so, sir:
Come lords, we'll to my house, my cheer's the better
For so much peril, will you with me homeward?

(Exeunt)

SCENE II.

—A ROOM IN CIMARO'S PALACE.
Enter Raffaelle and Julio
Raffaelle.
Tell me no more, he should have stabb'd and stabb'd
Till all his body were a wound—that, had
Each separate inch a life, he might die all,
Henceforth I'll trust myself—the monk and peasant
Conceal most closely: I must search for them;
Convey this gold to them—they've done their work.
Curse on the wayward fate that crosses me:
All causes should conspire to form great ends:
If I o'erleap the petty bound of justice,
And doom the reptile Claudio to his ruin,
What is the speck in the majestic world?
A thing that was—and is beheld no more.
It is all nature's custom, that the great
Consume the small. Who views the cataract
With less of thought sublime, because it drives
Some little brook back to its puny source?
'Tis greater by its devastating power.
Should one small cloud
Dim the fair lustre of heaven's varied arch?
Should the proud oak be rooted from the earth
Because its growth displaces some dull weed?
Claudio, my genius hath the mastery,
And thine shall bow to it: this arm shall do it—
I'll make occasion speedily; and if
I fail, 'tis but to bid him to a banquet,
And poison him in feasting.

(Enter Servant)
Servant.
Lord Alphonso
Waits you without, sir.

Raffaelle.
He may serve my purpose,
For should I need the festal cup, his hand
Shall be the bearer. I await him here,
(Exit Servant.
He too was Claudio's rival, and suspicion
Were better upon him than me: let's see now—
To bid this Claudio to a feast to-morrow,
And on the way assault him.
(Enter Alphonso.)
Oh! my friend,
I wish'd to see you.

Alphonso.
Oh! my lord, command me.

Raffaelle.
I have been thinking how to celebrate
The noble Claudio's deliverance,
And I design a feast to-morrow night.

Alphonso.
To-morrow he is married.

Raffaelle.
Married! married!
To-morrow!—and to whom?

Alphonso.
The lady Commenes.

Raffaelle.
Indeed!

Alphonso.
Most true.

Raffaelle.
This is no little matter:
I think it is as near to you as me;
We both have lov'd the lady de Commenes;
And both, as I should guess, were griev'd to lose her.

Alphonso.
Faith, somewhat.

Raffaelle.
Had not Claudio been her suitor,
One or the other had had better fortune.

Alphonso.
I am content to yield.

Raffaelle.
(Aside)
'Twere easier
To move a wren to combat with an eagle,
Than urge this dolt to touch a hair of Claudio.
(To him)
Well, well, and so am I; a lady's love
Cannot obey aught but her fantasy.
I've an esteem for Claudio, and I've shewn it.
I freely give Louisa to his love;
And more to prove how well it pleases me,
I will not be denied his presence here
To-morrow night you shall go bid him for me.

Alphonso.
Most happily, my lord.

Raffaelle.
And to the lady,
Who doubtless will not be so easily won,
Say this—I spoke to her the other day
To prove her love to Claudio, not meaning
Any offence by it, but if she lov'd him
To yield at once; and that I meant no wrong,
Methinks my conduct at the trial proves;
Were my heart rancorous 'gainst Claudio,
I should not thus have sought to save him.

Alphonso.
Aye, sir,
Doubt not I'll urge this.

Raffaelle.
Something further, in which
I'll crave your kind assistance: some of us,
You and myself, will, habited as peasants,
Conduct the festival, and humbly shew
The changes of the eve.

Alphonso.
With all my heart;
I will engage some other noblemen
To wear the habit, and attend your guests.

Raffaelle.
May I entreat you then to see them now,
I will not fail t' eclipse what yet I've done,
In honour of so happy an event:
Farewell.

Alphonso.
I will about it: farewell, sir.

(Exit.)
Raffaelle.
So, so—his nature formed him for a lacquey:
He'll act it to the life:—to lose a lady,
And such a lady, with a less concern
Than monks bestow their scapularies: aye,
This gen'ral habit will much aid my plan—
It will divide suspicion, and I'll fix it—
First at my rapier's point I will essay him
In the dark portico beside my palace;
There will I have my servant Julio
Meet and detain him;—no delay—such deeds
Are better in the doing than the thought.
I'll bring her yet a virgin to my bed,
And crop the prime of love in her sweet beauties.
This marriage yet shall be a funeral.
Fate, like a mettled steed, has started 'neath me,
Only to prove the prowess of the rider;
But I will curb and spur it to my will,
And ride triumphant to the goal of bliss.
Security has lost more fools than Claudio.
I'll spare no pomp to greet his death; the glitter
Will take th' attention of the common herd,
And keep them from too deep a scrutiny;—
This hand shall make sure work—'tis prompted here.

(Exit.)