University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Aversa. Interior of the Celestine Monastery.
Enter Terlizi, Evoli, and Balzo.
Terlizi.
God's Virtue, man! I say, it was a wonder
Vesuvius kept his temper, such an Earthquake
Fretting his roots; and Naples were not buried
In burning lava. Little I thought that ever
We should the city quit; yet here are we,
In the Celestine Monastery at Aversa—

Evoli.
Good fifteen miles away from Naples, Count!
Furthest the best from perilous place and time,
The death and ruin—

Balzo.
Falling where they did!
Good honest people suffered. Those six galleys,
That sank in sight with all that they contained,
A lawful crew and cargo! The slave galley,
Crowded with convicts, triumphed o'er the tempest,
Though Providence had saved the state some charge,
By summary drowning—

Terlizi.
Heaven forfend, good sir—
Not while Salvator was on board, I trust:
'Twas for his sake the vessel was preserved!
Enter Giulio.
How come you now, young Giulio?

Giulio.
A newsbearer.
From the exhaustion of that dreadful night,
And from the couch it long time doomed him to,
Salvator has arisen, much restored.

Terlizi.
Has he left Naples?

Giulio.
Yes—and will come hither.
He is preceded by Durazzo's Duke,
And the Princess Maria, whom I met,
And parted from in haste, to'inform you of it.

Terlizi.
This news will glad my wife, thrown out of cheer
By politic necessity, which made
Her tendance here upon their Majesties
A paramount regard. Her dimned eye
Will kindle with renewed intelligence,
When once more it beholds him.

Enter Duke and Duchess of Durazzo.
Duke.
We would hail you,
In this religious refuge. Well, we hope
The pre-appointments for the coronation
Of our good Queen, are happily accomplished.

Terlizi.
Why not the King?

Duke.
Crowned he will be of course,
Being her husband. Would 'twere otherwise!
For me, I feel no life within my soul,
While blood is in his veins!

Geronimo
(within.)
Pax vobis! benedicite!

Duke.
A voice I hate to hear!

Enter Geronimo.
Geronimo.
Will none reply,
And greet my “benedicite” with welcome?

Duke.
Your presence would denote the Countess' father
Is not far distant—

Balzo.
There is stir within,
As if the Countess had had notice too—

Duke.
Pri'thee, see to it.

Balzo.
Willingly.
[Exit Balzo.

Terlizi.
How is it with Salvator?

Duke.
Somewhat wroth,
The Countess should have left him, with the Court,
After such service; nor would he have followed,
But his grand-daughter, Sancha, has most strangely
Won on his fancy—

Re-enter Balzo.
Balzo.
'Tis Roberto entered,
And has had speech with Andreas—

Duke.
Whereat, what?—

Balzo.
The Countess raised a cry of “Treason!—But
They come—and, in alarm, the Queen!

Enter Queen, Philippa, Sancha, Roberto, Andreas, and Attendants.
Duke.
Heaven guard
Your Majesty with loyal zeal and wisdom,
With lynx-eyed vigilance, such as still attends
In person of your angel.

Queen.
Thank you, Duke—
Yet nothing say in hatred 'gainst my lord.

Duke.
Nothing, if nothing for himself he says—
He's silent.

Queen.
Scorning answer. He has right
To speak to whom he will, with whom he will
Be silent.

Duke.
Please your Majesty—

Queen.
I'm not pleased—
I know not whether to be pleased or vexed!
Sister, Maria! come with me apart!

[They withdraw and converse.
Duke.
What shout was that?

Evoli.
Salvator has arrived
In sight, my lord! The poor without the gates
Look on him as their saint, and thus announce him.

Duke.
Even so?—'Tis well! Now then, you plotting monks,
The Lazzari, if things but keep their train,
May grow to be to you as you to us;
As troublesome to Naples, as the dogs
At night are to Constantinople!

Roberto.
Shrewd
And travelled duke! you're merry!

Duke
(to Philippa.)
Countess! come— (They converse apart.)

Ye pair of curs! (To Roberto and Geronimo.)
the bone of strife ye covet,
Snarl o'er together!

Roberto.
Duke! most merry Duke!
Look well, lest magic prove no laughing matter!
A viperous generation! Wizard, both
Abuse the sense! He saves the lives of wretches
From drowning, by his presence! She with hers
Usurps authority, and makes Queens her puppets!

Queen.
Irreverend monk! beware! or I will show you,
I am a Queen, indeed! Of all men, thou,
At least, shalt know it!

Philippa.
Madam, silent scorn
Befits him best; he may be left to perish
Of his convicted guilt!

Roberto.
Rail on! words kill not,
Save when by pious lips they're rightly uttered!

Duke.
Thine?

Roberto.
Mine! that have already prophesied—
Beware, lest now they speak anathema!
Ye laugh—from ribald scorners, I appeal
To royal Andreas. He will silence break,
In my behoof.

Andreas.
No! for thy blasting! Thou,
Insidious friar! hast sown dissention 'twixt
My Queen and me! As on a serpent's head,
I place my heel on thine—

Robeto.
If this were true,
Thine heel were wounded; I but fondle it,
Albeit, ingrate, with unreturned caresses.

Andreas.
Henceforth, thou'rt as a scorpion in my mind;
And what seemed pious in thee, now appears
But as the pitiablest ruin, like
The perished beauty on a harlot's cheek!

Queen.
Monk! thou hast had thine answer. We forgive
Thy former insolence and infamy:
Live to repent—but be it far from us,
In convent, cell, or desart hermitage,
As best may medicine thy soul's disease.
(To Philippa.)
My best adviser, counsellor, and friend,
Dear Countess! fret no more, because of him;
But rule for us, in Naples!

[They all withdraw, and converse in groups, leaving Roberto and Geronimo in front.
Roberto.
Mark them, brother!
They do conspire together! Mark you well,
That Andreas stands apart! Look! do you note it?

Geronimo.
(taking out a Table-Book).
Ay, and have writ it down.

Roberto.
'Tis well—'tis well!
Plain, he knows not what they commune about—
Neither does Hugh del Balzo. Leave me now
For Balzo, brother; whisper in his ear,
To note it too.

Geronimo.
I will.

[Goes up to Balzo, and converses with him apart. Shouts, without.
Roberto.
Salvator comes:
The Lazzari shout again.

Duke.
'Tis so, indeed.

Philippa.
Let me be first to meet him!

Queen.
Nay, 'twere seemly,
That ye should meet alone. All else withdraw.
Come, princes; follow us!

Philippa.
Sancha! stay with me!

[Exeunt omnes, except Philippa and Sancha.
Enter Salvator, followed by Beppo, Ghino, and Zeppa.
Salvator.
No further, friends! I must be private now!
I thank you! Let me pray, that you will leave me.

Beppo.
You are our saint; it is for us to pray.

Ghino.
Pray you for us!

Zeppa.
Our prayers we leave with you!

[Exeunt.
Salvator.
Bring me a chair.

Sancha.
Here, sir.

Salvator
(sits.)
What! you, fair grandchild!
[embracing Sancha, who kneels.)
Still constant! you, who stayed behind, when all
Besides abandoned me, then summoned you
Away from my sick couch! Still have you lived
At my heart's core; ay, snugly lodged, as dreams are
'Twixt the eyelids and the eyes!

Philippa.
'Twas not my will
That called me from you; duty to the Queen
And state of Naples—

Salvator.
O, my old brain is weary,
I cannot argue—

Philippa.
If I have transgressed,
I'll kneel—

Salvator
(still seated).
No—not to me! Thou art a Countess!
What, though I'm honest, I am poor, my lady;
Though old, not overwise; experience, merged
In senile weakness and oblivious age—
I've done with action; it is time I should!
One only wish I had, and that's fulfilled—
To clasp, (to Sancha,)
fair child! thy neck as now I do,
And see my daughter in thee, as she was
In days long past;—those I could understand,
Of these I'm ignorant. Now I know her not!

Philippa.
If ever I intended slight to thee—
If aught less than my service to my country
Compelled the voice of nature to be silent,
Then let the Father of us all discard me!

Salvator.
Yet Nature is than service elder far!
Perchance, a reason good for its neglect!

Philippa.
No! by the sacred honor of my soul!
No! by the God that I have worshiped always!

Salvator.
Thou sayest well; and, doubtless, meanest well!
All spiritual elevations triumph over
The natural feeling, or transfigure it
Into a glorious likeness of themselves.
I know thou meanest well! I know thy goodness!

Philippa.
Thou dost? I thank the saints!

Salvator.
The wrong thou'st done,
Is custom's wrong, not thine—

Philippa.
Why?

Salvator.
How blind
Are we to truth! or if we apprehend it,
Do so with singular inversion, such
As the desart snow-storm soaring with the sands,
Not coming from the clouds. Look thou to Heaven,
Not grope below, for Truth!

Philippa.
I'll look to thee—
Be thou Heaven's image to me!

Salvator.
Listen, then.
Had I been rich and noble, and had shown
The knowledge and the promptitude to act,
Wherewith, in her emergency, I saved
The peace of Naples;—then had the feat been lauded
In courtly ears, which o'er my lips had leaned
To catch their whisper as an oracle—
Then (though you may deceive yourselves, to think
Now otherwise) had both the Queen and you
My counsel sought, ere you removed from Naples.
And if ye had—

Philippa.
What, if we had?

Salvator.
You said,
What I had done, had saved the City, but
Had perilled you. Such peril, haply, I
Might have averted, if forsaken not.
Others forsook me not! Those treacherous monks
Left not my couch a moment; made themselves
Still seem my friends, and to the poor and humble,
The Lazzari of Naples, blazoned me,
As if I were their tutelary saint,
Their guardian-angel; and therewith prevailed,
That even my disclaimer only wrought
On their belief the more!

Philippa.
What comes of this?

Salvator.
I know not, save the need of vigilance;
Which now I cannot give!

Sancha.
Look! he is ill
Again. How pale his brow! how cold his hand!
O, Countess! call for help!

Philippa.
Ourselves will help him.
We know not who are traitors.—O, Salvator!
Would I had ne'er been otherwise than poor!
Humble, and mean of rank!

Sancha.
Ha! he revives—
His colour comes—he warms—

Philippa.
If he can walk,
We'll lead him to his couch. He hears me. Can
You rise, my Father? Speak!

Salvator.
Ay, daughter.

Philippa.
Well—
But gently—lean on me. Your Sancha's arms
Are round you too. Ah, now you smile—and make
Me happy. There's a couch in the next chamber!

[They lead him out.