University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—Magnificent Tent.—Officers discovered.—Flourish, loud and long.
Enter Louis of Hungary with numerous Attendants, Duke and Duchess of Durazzo, followed by Salvator.
Louis.
Our Cousin of Durazzo, and fair Princess!
We do repeat the welcome that we spoke—
And know, great Duke! we have, apart
examined
The men you brought us; how their tales cohere,
We will hereafter take your judgement on!
For, as to make strange matter still more strange,
This step to Romeward of the Queen of Naples,
Unknown to us, is not unknown to all:
There's one among us, wiser than the rest!
Yon peasant-father of the imprisoned Countess
Had filled her office, had he not been thwarted!
By his advice, forsooth—his learnëd counsel—
The haughty Queen makes her appeal to Rome!
And from our clutch, by means so poor as these,
The vowëd victim 'scapes, and Vengeance mourns
The promised sacrifice, her righteous due!

Duke.
How know you this, my liege?

Louis.
By his confession—
While all men wondered, he alone was calm;
He knew already, what we knew but now!
How came such knowledge to him? How to him!
Whom should it come to else, if not the man
Whose counsel had induced the royal mind?
Where's birth and station, now?

Duke.
What says Salvator?

Salvator.
No more than this. A poor man gave such counsel,
Being consulted, and it was accepted!
For in the heart where beats the love of country,
The wisdom lives, that at its need can serve it:
There patriot vigour thrives, where virtue dwells.
Were it not so, the weariness and wrong
That I have suffered—(let me boldly speak,
For death I fear not!)—had subdued me quite,
And mixed the crumbling dust that trembles on me
With that my footstep, though so feeble, spurns!
But Heaven hath granted, neither once nor twice,
But every day, that I should serve my country!

Louis.
How, every day?

Salvator.
As all who will may do—
Seldom are great occasions given to few:
But all, by abstinence and exercise,
May make the body strong from earliest youth,
And ripen slowly for a lengthened autumn;
Guarding the heart from passion, soul from sin,
And holding evil thus, with vice, at bay;
To Heaven obedient, working out its purpose,
And waiting on its will, full-confident
That what the morrow wants it shall provide;
Doing no wrong to others, and forgiving
The wrong that's done to us! He who thus lives,
Shall grow in health of limb, and calm of mind;
Serving, by merely living; and, though late,
Let but the Hour arrive, produce the Man,
Prepared in secret for a public cause.
—Thus have I lived, and thus, in my old age,
Can even endure what violence inflicts.

Louis.
A whining monk, without his frock! Away!

Salvator.
May I to Naples back?

Louis.
Where'er thou wilt.
So that thou cross my path no more!—
Forgiveness!
If I forgive his murderers may I perish!
Ha! the gross fraud! Scarce, man, I pardon thee,
For that thou plead'st for pardon unto others!
Nor would I—but that Vengeance were self-baffled,
Stooping to meaner quarry than the game
Whereto sure instinct prompts!—
Forbear the presence,
You—and the rest—
[All exeunt, except Louis and the Duke.
Now, Coz! a word with you!
And think you, then, my soul so tame, so blind,
No feint, no trick, too palpable, too gross,
For my delusion? Scornëd instruments,
The poor and vile, the refuse of the earth,
Confound with ease my cunning, my revenge!

Duke.
If feint or trick there be, 'tis thine, not mine!

Louis.
Wouldst not mislead me with pretended proofs?
And lull me to a peace with canting prayers?

Duke.
Is this suspicion, then, thy gratitude,
For pledging with thee common cause, and lending
To thine invasion an Italian name,
Might make it look less foreign?

Louis.
Gratitude!
But that my honour's pawned for thy protection,
Death were the answer to thy false reproach!

Duke.
Death to thy honour, if I've cause of fear.
In a fair challenge, thou hast much as I!

Louis.
I! Never!

Duke.
What suspect you? True, I left Naples,
Because Misrule was gathering to a head,
For indiscriminate slaughter. The young Queen,
Unused to sway, and sunk in reverie,
Awakened on the sudden; with wild gaze,
She placed the sword in the Avenger's hand,
And bade him smite where'er he would, that proof
Of vengeance might assure the wondering world
That she at least was guiltless. I came to thee;
Thou saw'st the advantage of my cause and name,
Added to thine. Now, why am I not trusted?

Louis.
Trusted! Who'd trust a trickster? Are you not one?
Who are those Lazzari, whose aid you purchased?
Apart
, (mark you,) I questioned them— Apart
.
There was no word of truth in one of them;
Nay, no consistence in the lies they told—
Yet these, forsooth, were “serviceable knaves”
It was your word—

Duke.
And is—

Louis.
Repeat it not!

Duke.
And is—and is. Wouldst more?

Louis.
Too much for patience!
Repeat it not again—or stand on guard!

Duke.
You are a King!

Louis.
I waive the privilege!

Duke.
I will not . . . for your sake! Shall I go wild,
Because you lack of wit, and fail perception?
This is not Hungary, but Italy!

Louis
(drawing).
I were a fool, should I endure the taunt!

Duke.
Put up your sword; and learn more policy!
Learn of things wiser—of our better craft—
The voices of the living and the dead.
The grave itself should warn us, how we scorn
What is beneath us—there the despisëd worm
Feasts on the flesh of man; and man above it,
However high, may be brought down as low
By worms that look like men. We may not now
Contemn the poor, the vile (the times forbid it)—
At least, in Italy; whate'er you may,
In your own ruder land!

Louis.
Accursed such times!

Duke.
They lied, you say; nor showed consistency!
How could they, since they lied, and were apart
Examined? Better craft than such, great King!
Must he acquire, who'd reign in Italy!

Louis.
Which I must learn of you?

Duke.
Just as you please—

Louis.
My brother, when alive, would not be duped so!

Duke.
It had been better, had he been less stubborn.

Louis.
Stubborn?

Duke.
Ay!—

Louis.
Mend the phrase!—

Duke.
I will not—

Louis.
Madness!
Insult him not, though you have murdered him!

Duke.
You go too far. My hands are white as yours,
My memory of him as pure as yours—
But he mistook our manners. Breathe our air!
'Tis balm. Regard our skies! They're azure. List
Our speech! 'Tis music. Not a spot by land or water,
But to voluptuous pleasure tempts the soul,
To-day endeared by the to-morrow's danger!
Was this a place to bring a clouded brow,
A sad attire, and a harsh accent, to?
And did I wrong in telling him so much?
And did I merit therefore his disdain?
What then? I pitied, not revenged, the slight!
Himself, not me, he injured. All the saints
Refuse their intercession at my need,
If through my malice he incurred his death!

Louis.
I said not that he did—

Duke.
Indeed, you said so—

Louis.
You are too hasty, to apply each phrase—
Had you a brother lost by savage murder,
You'd have more feeling! Now, you are hard as marble!

Duke.
'Tis that my heart is scorned, so hides itself.

Louis.
I scorned it not—

Duke.
You seemed to do so—

Louis.
I should not so seem, if you were not perverse.

Duke.
False accusation must expect denial.

Louis.
Traitors, assassins, wheresoe'er ye lurk,
Come, from your dark dens, forth! and, unavenged,
If I have twenty brothers, slay them all!
For I may not lament the death of one,
Unblamed; but what in other men is virtue,
Pity humane, and retribution just,
In me is vice, and folly, and brute malice!
O these blind aims! thus striking at the air,
And wounding but myself! Give me, good Heavens!
A lofty mark, that I may bring it down,
And, treading on, make it a pedestal,
Where I may stand erect, and feel myself
Raised to my wonted stature!

Duke.
You are not fallen,
If you not think so. All the world has noted,
That Andreas' death found you uncowed of mind,
Of courage prompt, of spirit unrepressed,
To encounter demons in his battle's cause!
Wherefore degraded in thine own esteem?
There is no man so high in that of others!

Louis.
And think you so? Then, pray, forget my rage!

Duke.
I pray you, forgive mine.

Louis.
You were too hot—

Duke.
Vouchsafe your hand—

Louis
(passionately).
No! I reserve it still,
To grasp, in the death agony, with that
Which smote my brother!

Duke.
You are royal now!

Louis.
And will remain so! When I lack of that,
Then men may wrong me, howsoe'er they will;
But till then, let them tremble!

Duke.
Thus resolved,
And satisfied, your Majesty will grant
That I retire. With reverence due, farewell!

[Exit.
Louis
(alone).
Now I could weep! But that the tears would fall
Better from others' eyes! Be mine like stone,
Till they have looked on Vengeance, and the Gorgon
Undo the charm of old! My brother's shade
Shall be appeased, though seeking to avenge him,
I monster turn, and furies tame with horror!

[Exit.