University of Virginia Library

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.)