University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Banquetting Hall.
The Duke, Leonora, Ignatio, Giovanni, Beltran, Frankendall, Sanzio, Masks, Attentants, &c. &c.
DUKE.
Welcome all, gentlemen; welcome, cavaliers;
Pray ye, be merry. God forgive me now!
We old ones will have oversights sometimes;
Age even will have his way. I should have greeted
You first, ye fair ones, whose half-veil'd eyes
Seem brighter for their shadows, as the stars
Still sparkle keenest when the tawny night
Puts on her duskiest mask. Be merry too;
And we shall not be wanting.—Ah, gallants!
With all your glitter and your plumery,
Be sure ye have not left your hearts at home,
Or, what were worse, your wit. I warrant now
There are some here can bring a prude to smile,
Or whisper love into a soft one's ear.
There's sure a sonnetteer amongst us, gentlemen;
If so, we'll have a serenade.—What! none
To volunteer, amongst the Troubadours,
And tell a tale in echo to his lute,
Address'd to many, yet but meant for one?
Is it not so?
Well, well. My lord, Count Beltran,
Your arm; you shall with me amongst these beauties;
'Tis hard, now, if we cannot find some planet
That will adopt us as her satellites.

BELTRAN.
Amongst the Pleiades, the hardest is
To choose the brightest; but we'll e'en essay
The task, since 'tis your highness' pleasure.

IGNATIO.
(Aside to Giovanni.)
How
Likest thou Count Beltran's favour, Giovanni?
He is a most accomplish'd gentleman;
With what an air he strides amid the throng!
Mark, all instinctively give way, yet all
Press round him. Still, I know not how it is,
But there is something in his very smile
I cannot love. What think'st thou?

GIOVANNI.
This, my lord:
His smoothest looks are like the clearest ice,
Which but betrays the soonest.

IGNATIO.
Fie, Giovanni!
Thou speakest bitterly.

GIOVANNI.
Plainly—pardon me—
I love him not; and that's the simple truth:
Nor will I trust that lowering brow of his,
However smiling. Why, a child may see,
In spite of all his put on suavity,
The world within is, even now, at war
With that without.

IGNATIO.
My friend, thou'rt prejudiced.
If there be darker shadows in his face,
Thou know'st Count Beltran hath had many griefs.

GIOVANNI.
No more, perchance, than others may through him.
The ambitious man, believe't, is still a savage;
Adore him, if you will; coax him; admire him;
But trust him not.

IGNATIO.
Why, this is very harshness;
The world allows Count Beltran many virtues.

GIOVANNI.
Virtues, my lord, when wedded to ambition,
(For I deny not he hath many virtues,)
Are but as jewels, cast into the deep,
Which only lose themselves—not profiting that
On which they are bestow'd.

[Shout without.
IGNATIO.
What noise is that?

GIOVANNI.
The people's joy, dear Prince; their sympathy
With yours; not less sincere because perhaps
'Tis somewhat rudely shewn.

[Shouts again.
LEONORA.
Signor Giovanni!

IGNATIO.
Leonora speaks.

GIOVANNI.
Madam, your highness' pleasure.

LEONORA.
What means this rude and most obtrusive clamour,
Which even the palace stays not?

GIOVANNI.
Madam, 'tis
The overflowing transport of the people
To see yourself and Prince Ignatio happy.

LEONORA.
Take order that it trouble us no more.
Was there no place fit for these vile carousals
And vulgar greetings, but the Ducal Palace?

IGNATIO.
Nay, Leonora, bear with them for once.
Does it not pride you thus to see your festival
Graced by a people's love?

LEONORA.
My lord, your tutors
Perchance have taught you to esteem such things;
Mine have not; and I value them alike,
Whether they come or come not. I, at least,
Who scorn the merchandize, need not pay the price
Go, some of you, and quell this turbulence.

GIOVANNI.
Madam, it shall be done. 'Tis but for you
To be obey'd and gracious. To the Prince,
Your noble consort, there are superadded
Duties to dignity—a high repayment
Of happiness to those who joy in his.—
Sanzio, take measures that the people quit
The square before the palace.

[Exeunt Giovanni and Sanzio.
BELTRAN.
(Aside.)
Frankendall,
Heard'st thou that plumed plebeian's insolence?
Mark'd ye the ostrich? Think ye he'd digest
Cold iron?

JACOMO.
Shall we try, my lord?

BELTRAN.
Not now;
We'll maybe find a time.

DUKE.
Daughter, you're right;
The boy Ignatio has been still too easy;
He'll mend on't, when he knows them as I do.

[Shouts.
FRANKENDALL.
(Aside to a Mask.)
Fair lady, if this din would give me leave,
I'd haply whisper love.

FEMALE MASK.
Now you are out;
'Tis plain you reck not what love is, or else
You'd know his plainest language is the eyes.

FRANKENDALL.
By Jove! quick, madam, I am caught for once.
Well, I shall learn it fast enough of you.
But then we must not ogle through a mask!

FEMALE MASK.
Nay, hold. What if my features should unteach
All that mine eye hath taught you?

FRANKENDALL.
Never fear;
The eyes against the field for twenty ducats!

FEMALE MASK.
I see you are a gamester, even in love.

FRANKENDALL.
If I play fairly, where is the objection?
'Tis but a phrase—a foreign compliment—
Let that content you. If you'd question me—
In faith, I learn'd it of an English lord,
Who loved a horse course better than his mistress—
It serves to vary the French politesse.

FEMALE MASK.
A sweet variety!

FRANKENDALL.
Better than none.
One hates the jargon of “amour” and “cour.”
Ha! Master Troubadour, you're a-propos;
Sing me, for Heaven's sake, some mellifluous rhyme,
Can soften a hard heart.

BELTRAN.
If it be thine,
That transformation were miraculous;
I'd sooner look for lead to turn to gold.

MASK.
Love, Signors, seldom is as he appears;
And, when he seems the blindest, sees the best:
Yet fear not, lords—I am no satirist;
My simple ditty, if it please not, harms not.

Re-enter Giovanni.
FRANKENDALL.
(Aside.)
Go nearer to the Princess when you sing.

IGNATIO.
(Aside to Giovanni.)
What is the night? Is it not nigh the hour?

GIOVANNI.
Be calm, my lord; we are watch'd; start not; observed
Was what I would have said. The night is moody,
And the wind frets and moans in fitful gusts;
Hurrying the wrack, as to some rendezvous
Of storm, like squadrons ere the battle join.
'Twill be a dark night somewhere. All the better;
So that its rage stoop not directly here—
Sanzio is ready. (Aloud.)

What! is this a song?
Of mirth or mourning, gentle Troubadour?
Methinks you tune it passing cunningly.

MASK.
Even as the hearer relish it, good Signor—
Pray Heaven you do not think it out of tune?

BELTRAN.
Stand further there; you intercept the Duke.

MASK,
(sings.)
CANZONET.

BELTRAN.
For all your smooth preluding, Signor Minstrel,
This lay, with all its honey, bears a sting.
Good God, now, but your highness' hue is changed!

IGNATIO.
A faintness from the heat—I must retire
Some little space; 'twill by and by begone.

GIOVANNI.
I shall attend your highness.— (Aside.)
Sir, be calm;
Let not a casual, mere coincidence
Unnerve your manhood thus.

IGNATIO.
I am better. Gentlemen,
Take no heed of me. In a little space
I'll mix with you again.—I thank you, Signor,
Your lute shall be in tune when I return,
I hope.—Nay, gentle friends, no ceremony.

[Exeunt Ignatio and Giovanni.
BELTRAN.
(Aside to Frankendall.)
Do you mark that? Where is the Princess?

FRANKENDALL.
There;
In conversation with the Duke.

BELTRAN.
'Tis pity
She mark'd not his departure. Dost thou think
She did not? She shall be inform'd.

FRANKENDALL.
Stay, stay;
Here comes his grave-faced pandarship again.

BELTRAN.
He is making towards the Princess. O, tis well!
Let's hear the hypocrite's message.

FRANKENDALL.
I observed
Her countenance change, just as the Prince retired;
Methought the Duke did mark it.

GIOVANNI.
Madam, I
Come as a messenger from his highness, who
Hath even now retired some little space,
From slight indisposition.

LEONORA.
Ha! retired?
Indisposition?—On the instant shall I
Attend on him. So tell him, sir.

GIOVANNI.
Your highness
Shall pardon me. The Prince expressly begs
Not to alarm your highness; 'tis a slight
And not uncustomary discomposure;
Nothing of serious note;—some little rest,
Or some short breath of fresh air on the terrace,
Shall send him back to you. In the meantime,
He prays you to be cheerful, nor to suffer
One moment's inconvenience to your guests.

LEONORA.
(Aside.)
My woman's heart is swell'd almost to bursting.
It is too true. Rouse yourself, Leonora;
Nor stoop, nor pine one instant under wrong.
(Aloud.)
You need not fear, sir, lest my guests or I
Be discomposed.— (Aside.)
Yet stay, I still may wrong him;
Perhaps 'tis better I should go myself.

GIOVANNI.
Let me beseech your highness, be composed.

DUKE.
Fie! Leonora; this is womanish:
Fear not the boy; though he be delicate,
He yet hath something of his father in him;
He bends, but will not shiver. From a child
Hath he been subject to these paroxysms.—
Signor, go tell my boy Ignatio
That we must see him here, or e'er the dance
Shall be concluded—marry, late enough;
Meanwhile, he'll take his evening draught of air
On the Piazza, for the night is gusty:
So tell him that the Princess says, with me—
Shall he not, Principessa?

LEONORA.
Sir, 'tis fittest
Your highness should command; so tell him, sir.

[Exit Giovanni.
DUKE.
Now this is like the noble Leonora.
Who would have thought that the high-minded Princess
Would change her very colour and her tone,
Even like some love-sick youngling of fifteen,
Because her husband had a little qualm?
Well, well, I say no more—I say no more—
'Tis haply as it should be, after all.
Come, is't not time the ball was getting towards—
Your hand—Nay, nay—no ceremony.—Gallants,
Who shall refuse to follow my example?
Is there a hand in all this room so cold
To fright the gentle palm it would enclasp?
Come, Signors; come, Signoras; we shall try
If that your heels move glibly as your tongues.
Go bid the music strike i'th'other hall.—
Now for the lightest foot and lightest heart!

[Exeunt.
Beltran and Frankendall remain.
BELTRAN.
Hist!—Didst thou mark the Princess' brow, my friend?

FRANKENDALL.
I did; and never did I know her nature
So stirr'd. The blood, that rose and vanish'd, clouded
Her moveless features in such sort, I started;
And when it had retired, methough it left
Redoubled paleness on her marble brow.
Not for ten thousand ducats would I be
In some one's place!

BELTRAN.
No more; we are observed.
I join the dancers.

FRANKENDALL.
And I fall asleep,
Until the rattle of the dice-box rouse me,
Or the loud cup.

BELTRAN.
Thou art incorrigible!
[Exit Frankendall.
I follow thee.
There's something weighs upon me—
I know not what. E'en now, when I had oped
A casement, to drink in some breath of air,
To cool my feverish blood, methought the wind
Sigh'd heavily; and the dim and clouded arch
Did shew so desolate, that when I had turn'd me
To gaze upon the revelry within,
I felt how comfortless ambition is;
And almost thought it useless cruelty
To let in darkness upon human hearts.
That might have beat in blissful perfectness;
Or tinge my soul with dark hypocrisy,
For aught this world can give.
'Tis fantasy;
If all be hollow, I am right at last;
And selfishness may have a date as long
As virtue. I will in, and leave those thoughts.
Enter Sanzio hastily.
Ha!—quick—speak—is it seal'd?

SANZIO.
It is.

BELTRAN.
Begone then!
I'll think no more—for now it is too late.
[Exit Sanzio.
The voiceless night is pregnant with events;
To-morrow e'en may babble of them.

[Exit hastily.