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ACT III.
SCENE I.
—Chamber in Lodoro's palace, the casement opening on to the grand canal. moonlight, music heard in the distance.Bianca, Maria.
Bia.
—What most unseasonable mirth is this?
Is there no sanctity for grief? Alas!
Methinks, we should respect each other's woe
When misery is so common to us all!
Mar.
—Your melancholy makes you feel this mirth
Discordant. 'Tis a brilliant serenade
The courteous Barbarigo gives his love.
Bia.
—Poor man! If he must waste his love on one,
Whose soul reflects not his, as those bright waters
Mirror that moonlight, he had better die!
If I should love, 'twould be as suns look down
To feed the flowers up-gazing to their light.
Mar.
—I knew you'd love!
Bia.
Because you trusted nature,
Whose precepts told you that we all must love.
No matter what the object be, love is
As natural—as much a part of woman,
As is the light to heaven, the green to earth,
Or anything that is most natural.
Mar.
—I fear, my lady—
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What, Maria?
Mar.
How
Your father will receive this news.
Bia.
Maria!
Obedience, duty, country, kindred, all
Are only names, to those whose bosoms once
Have given birth to passions, that you may
Despise, but can no more control, than tear
The rooted mountains from the steadfast earth!
Enter Augustus.
Who enters?
Aug.
Fear not!
Bia.
O, my brother! how
You have alarm'd me!
Aug.
Pardon me! Ill news
Is seldom usher'd in with ceremony.
Bia.
—Speak out!
Aug.
Come, do not tremble! But tomorrow
Our father pledges you a noble's bride.
Mar.
—My lady!
Bia.
I am well! what would you with me?
Say on, Augustus.
Aug.
I am still your brother,
Although the unwelcome messenger of this.
You'll wed the Barbarigo?
Bia.
By heaven! I will not!
Aug.
—A convent then awaits you, and a life—
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—Of ignominious solitude!—I know it.
Augustus, I have loved you! Tell me, have you
Not read in antique Roman story, how
Lucretia gave her stainless Latin blood
An offering to the daughters of her land?
Aug.
—What mean you?
Bia.
That her spirit is not dead!
But lives in woman's heart as long as tyranny
Usurps the natural honor of mankind!
Aug.
—Your words are wild, Bianca.
Bia.
And the current
Of my o'erboiling blood—outraged and scorn'd
By savage selfishness—is ten times fiercer!
Aug.
—What answer do I bear your father?
Bia.
Go!
Bid him essay to curb the storm's career!
Bridle the tempestuous ocean! chain the winds!
And then reflect how easy 'tis to bow
And bend the passions of the bursting heart!
Aug.
—Bianca, these are idle words! ere long
You'll beg your freedom from a convent—
Bia.
Never!
Freedom unto the body, when the soul
Is fetter'd by its giant handed passions,
Is no more freedom than a larger cell,
A longer link, a wider, broader hell,
Unto the chain'd and damn'd are liberty!
O, my dear brother! I forget my sex!
Bear with me! I am but a woman! weak
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Have pity! Let me weep upon your bosom!
Aug.
—Companion of my earliest, best affections!
Look in my face! It smiles when yours is cheerful,
And weeps when you are sorrowful! I only
Essayed the virtue of your heart, and find
A woman's love dies but with woman's life.
What, never blush, girl! nature hath too many
Infirmities to drop the eyelash o'er—
We need not be asham'd of truth.—This Julian—
Enter Julian.
You tremble!
Bia.
O Augustus, I have given
My love too lightly! Swear to Julian, that
My heart is true to him, though false to me!
Jul.
—I do believe it! and I'd rather trust
To nature's undisguised simplicity,
Than all the worthless oaths in honor's code!
Exeunt, unperceived, Augustus and Maria.
I do offend you with my earnestness.
Forgive me, lady, that I have presum'd
To level you to hopes so poor as mine!
Bia.
—Julian, I will not contradict my heart,
Belie my nature, and disgrace my sex
By pandering to the custom—for I love you!
Perhaps you hate me for this bold confession;
But I would sooner hunt the faded light
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My maiden prudence! If hypocrisy
Be woman's virtue, I have sadly sinn'd.
Jul.
—Bianca, there are villains—so they say—
I fear 'tis true!—would pin a woman's virtue
Upon her words—I am not one of these!
I love you for yourself. I love you for
The spirit that can spurn duplicity—
Convention gives another designation
To such dishonesty, but I forget it.
My dictionary is my heart—and quarrelling
O'er words is wretched when we mean the same.
Bia.
—Augustus! Gone?
Jul.
You do not fear to trust
Your honor with your lover?
Bia.
No, I never
Fear what I love, or love what I should fear.
Jul.
—Come, then! I have a gondola at hand.
We will go forth upon the sleeping waters;
And, in the interchange of holy vows
And starry dreams of future happiness,
Forget the pain and sorrow of the past.
Why do you sigh, dear lady?
Bia.
I know not.
Sometimes I have presentiments of evil,
As if the soul foredream'd of danger, as
The ocean's depths are troubled long before
The tempest wakens in its cavern'd bosom.
Jul.
—O never fear!
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I cannot help it, Julian!
Fear seems as much a part of me as hope;
And, like a silly girl, at times I weep
That I am far too happy, when I think
How very short our happiness may be.
Jul.
—A lover's eyes should only see the rainbow,
And disbelieve the clouds and storms of life.
We know they shadow every sky; but, while
It can, imagination should create
A sunshine in the gloom, a glory in
The storm, and love and beauty all around!
Enter Augustus.
Aug.
—Julian!
Jul.
What now?
Aug.
You cannot linger here
With safety!
Jul.
Safety? where's the danger? speak!
Aug.
—Bianca!
Jul.
I submit then! Oh, the agony!
That those who meet to love should part to grieve!
What says my lady?
Bia.
I have tears to weep
Away the heavy hours, until thy smile,
Like sunshine, comes to dry the waters up.
Jul.
—Is this the end of every happiness?
I've heard, but never credited 'till now,
How short—how fearfully short is human joy!
Bianca, love! I leave my soul with you,
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O! think how very lonely I shall be!
Bia.
—Alas! you rob me of the power of thought,
Save to brood o'er the misery of your absence.
Aug.
—Come, sir, the moments hasten. Time respects
No more the lover in his mistress' arms,
Than sickness hurrying to the awful grave.
Come! kiss me girl! Good night, and pleasant slumbers!
Come, Julian! Heaven defend the man who drives
A love sick gentleman! come, Julian! come!
Jul.
—Farewell, Bianca! they, who never loved,
But little know the horror of that word.
We, who thus gaze our farewell from the eye,
Can feel how terrible it is to die!
Exeunt Julian and Augustus.
Bia.
—Maria! are you there?
Enter Maria.
Come here Maria!
Give me your arm, girl!
Mar.
How you tremble, lady.
Bia.
—Do I? What creatures are we of our passions!
Strong in design—in action imbecile.
Great to ourselves—ignoble unto others.
Assuming wisdom—laughed at for our folly.
O love! O melancholy, mournful love!
Source of all joy! All joy destroying passion!
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The heavens, the earth, and all created things
Would fall to pieces like a broken billow!
O wherefore are thy joys so dash'd with sorrows—
Thy sorrows intermingled so with joys—
That with, or without thee, we're wretched still!
O Julian! Julian! I could die for joy
That I possess thee, as I could have died
For agony without thee! Fare thee well!
Exeunt.
SCENE II.
—A narrow and dark street in front of Lodoro's Palace.Enter Barbarigo and Serenaders.
Bar.
—A serenade! and yet her casement closed
As firmly as her lips. Friend, Barbarigo!
What, an' she love another? Whisper says
The stripling Julian. Cunning then must match
Th' advantage of his luck! come hither, friends!
My honest lads, I hired you to essay
A lady's heart with music—could you find
Her lover's with a dagger? You're brave boys!
1st. Ser.
—Why not retain that pleasure for yourself?
We share our love, but should reserve revenge,
It is such pleasure, for our own enjoyment.
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—Right! But Venetian nobleness of late
Is so notorious, I should hang for what
Would pass away unnoticed, done by you.
1st. Ser.
—(Aside.
The coward's shift! I know his courage well,
And will not damn myself to save another!)
Bar.
—Why do you hesitate? A dagger, man,
The ocean, secrecy, and gold. Come, come!
1st. Ser.
—No, signor, keep your gold! The poor man's character
Is all his fortune, and he's bound to guard
That ten times closer than his richer neighbour.
Bar.
—Ha! ha! a conscientious villain!
Enter Frederick, followed by Angelo, Antonio, and others.
Ha!
Whose here?
Fred.
Stand fast! Who art thou?—friend or foe?
Bar.
—A friend to Bacchus, and a foe to all
Who say their prayers, and sober creep to bed.
Fred.
—Friend, thou art sober, for I know thee well,
And thy intentions, Barbarigo, here.
I'm drunk—but I am honorably drunk,
And thou art most dishonorably sober!
Bar.
—What mean you, braggart?
Fred.
Braggart to thyself!
'Twill make a sword knot for your useless steel.
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Than ever trod in Barbarigo's shoes.
Bar.
—You're quarrelsome!
Fred.
You're villanous!
Bar.
Draw!
Fred.
Draw!
Bar.
—Prepare to die!
Fred.
I'll send thee first to hell,
Thou licensed bully of society!
Now make thy boasted greatness proof! Come! show
The world thou art a better man than I!
They Fight, Frederick falls mortally wounded. Barbarigo and Serenaders escape.
Fred.
—The devil seize his cool sobriety!
This comes of fighting drunk.
Ang.
Art hurt, St. Cyr?
Fred.
My valour is not fumy: but, methinks,
I could not, on cold water, slay my man.
Enter Julian, Augustus, and Attendants, with torches.
Aug.
—Where are these brawlers at my father's door?
Jul.
—Frederick! by the mass! account for this!
Frederick thou art not surely hurt?
Fred.
A little!
Jul.
—Speak, I implore you!
Fred.
Oh! nothing! only, Jule,
You have been drinking love—I drinking wine—
And Barbarigo drinking blood—that's all!
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(to Angelo)
—Speak, sir!
Ang.
We tracked our friend, who followed here
The Barbarigo—Frederick heard him bargain
With hired assassins for your life—
Fred.
Ay, ay!
Less elocution!—I've but little life
To spare, and death needs not your hiperboles
To herald him!
Jul.
You're wounded—
Fred.
Murdered, sir!
Say honourably slain, we will not quarrel
About the epithet.
Jul.
O God of heaven!
And must he perish in a cause like this!
Fred.
—The cause is good enough, when thousands die
For ribbons, gold, and stars! A brawl's a brawl,
And kings and nations fight for nothing more,
Begild their motives with what names you will!
No matter, Jule, my child! we all must die!
And when we have drained the gilded cup of life—
Weighed good and evil—chosen which is which—
And come upon the dregs of disappointment—
It little matters when or how we go!
Jul.
—O Frederick! this is poor philosophy
To soothe a dying man!
Fred.
Philosophy?
Philosophy is but another word
For madness, that aids neither life nor death!
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—I would not argue now on such absurdity.
But Frederick—
Fred.
Julian! come, I know your meaning.
You wonder that I do not weep at leaving
A world, whose happiness hath long left me.
The sorest heart in deepest silence breaks!
We come and go, the creatures of our fate,
Mourned for a moment—then forgot for ever!
We judge each other by our smiles or tears—
And yet the veriest jester of mankind
Oft wears his smile upon an aching heart!
The fool reproves the wise man, in his folly—
For in the drunkard and the blasphemer,
The best of us are emblem'd; making scorn
Of his almighty love who made us all.
Ha, ha! you look most eloquent amazement!
Coupling my wise words with my foolish deeds,
You know not which to call me, knave or fool.
Regard your neighbour—merchant, lord, or slave—
Is not his nature such a contradiction
To all the sense of reasoning man, that laughter
Curls up the lip of every thing that is!
Jul.
—Alas! this creed is little consolation!
Fred.
—I do not weep—it is because I've known
The inutility of life—
Jul.
Except
To teach us how to die.
Fred.
True! But my days
Were squandered in a fever to outrun
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But, courage! let me die, sirs! Tell the world
I care not for its epitaph, I could
Not read its praise, and shall not hear its curse!
Dies.
Jul.
—Let me look steadfastly upon that face!
There! cover it! Its marble stillness gives
No answer to the question I have asked.
I wished to gather from its silence whether
Our sorrows end with our existence here—
If so, I'd like to die!
Ang.
Julian! come, man,
This is no blame of yours.
Jul.
No, it said nought!
Death's silent and mysterious hand hath sealed
The secret in eternity; and sent
Him, with his countless follies on his shoulders,
Without a single grace of preparation,
Into the presence of his God and Judge.
Ang.
—What think you on?
Jul.
Terrible things!
Aug.
Come, man,
The world will hold you innocent, no fear!
Jul.
—The world? The world, no fear, will hold us guilty,
If they but find a shadow of suspicion,
A spot of doubt, a breath of ill report
On which to hang the curse of their damnation!
Aug.
—You make the danger over fearful.
Jul.
Fear?
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Of earth's sad disappointment, grows too callous
To tremble. Let the happy tremble! Wretches,
Like me, have nothing left to fear!
Enter Barbarigo and followers.
Bar.
Ha! Julian!
Renounce for ever her, whose name you sully!
This sword shall win Bianca from your hopes!
Jul.
—I will not fight with you, assassin!—Slave!
You seek to polish up your tarnished honor
By wiping out its blemishes on me.
Get thee away! if this be honor, I
Am most dishonorably ashamed of it!
Bar.
—Coward! you shall not thus escape me!
Jul.
Coward?
I am so little coward, Barbarigo,
That I have courage to deride a slander,
And pass the hired assassin by with scorn.
Bar.
—Coward! come back! turn on me, if you be
A man! A true Venetian—Turn, I say!
For Venice, for Bianca, turn, you coward!
Jul.
—That I am true Venetian, let this prove;
That, true unto my country's dignity,
I brave the slanderer of Venice, whilst
I scorn'd him as the lib'ler of myself.
But for the lady's name, your blasphemy
Profanes, I will wipe out your impious speech
In your own venomous blood! no parly, come!
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There! take your life! Nay, thank me not! you'll find
Life, shorn of honor, such a bitter curse,
That death would seem a blessing. Powers above!
Have ye designed us for no better ends
Than warring on each other, like the beasts!
I wonder that your lightenings do not blast
The uplifted arm against its fellow creature!
What, to its fallen victim (pointing to Frederick)
is that honor
For which he perished? By the mass! 'tis strange
The dead rise not in judgement on our deeds!
Methinks my sense will abdicate its throne
To these usurping passions, for I cannot
Reason myself out of a tyrannous hate
Of men—if men are nothing more than these!
Enter Officer and Guards.
Off.
—What, ho! there! stand or fall! we do attach
You traitors to the peace—seize every one!
Your swords!
Jul.
Mine hath disgraced its master's courage!
It owed the state that murderer's blood, yet would not
Strike to his heart—hence! disobedient steel!
What an egregious innocent am I
To look with pity on mankind, whose hearts
Are harder than the everlasting rocks!
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And only fit to wreak our vengeance on!
Off.
—Your pardon, but my duty thrusts on me
What I regret.
Jul.
Regret it not, I pray you!
Weep, if you will, that human villainy
Requires a human scourge! You must, perforce,
Think men are wondrous savage; all you see
Are spotted with some damnable black sin.
Off.
—I strive to think more favourably of men
Than those I see induce me. There are beings
Deserve our praise, if we will seek them out.
Jul.
—So people say—experience contradicts it.
Truth, justice, virtue, honor are the words,
That, imp-like, play upon our tongues; but black
Hypocrisy reigns in the hearts of all!
The world is but a strumpet, and, I tell you,
There is not in her arms one honest man!
Exeunt Julian, Officer, and Guards.
Ant.
—We'll seek his father, for events like these
Blot out all difference, and bring together,
In friendliness, the most determined foes.
Ang.
—Such should be, but is not the course of things—
What ought to be's so different from what is.
Ant.
—Misfortune heals our anger with her rough
But salutary physic. Julian's father
Must sympathise with his son's sufferings,
Albeit he may reprobate his errors.
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—If anger were the mere result of will
Opposed, submission would restore our love.
But man's displeasure's often an enigma—
Solved by his temper, avarice, conceit,
Pride, vanity, moroseness, natural bile,
And artificial follies. Julian's sire
Will live to rue the bitter day he flung
A child, however faulty, from his heart!
Exeunt.
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