 | The Conspiracy of the Pazzi |  |
SCENE THE FIRST.
Guglielmo, Raymond.Ray.
To suffer, always suffer? oh my father,
Is this the only counsel thou canst give me?
Art thou become so thoroughly a slave,
That thou no longer feel'st the heavy wrongs,
The insults of the Medicean yoke?
Gu.
Oh, son, I feel all keenly; and far more
I feel the public than my private wrongs.
But yet what should I do? To such a pitch
Florence by party-spirit is reduced,
That the most inoffensive word may be
Fatal to us, propitious to our tyrants.
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That thou canst now change only for the worse.
Ray.
Ah! tell me where is now the state? Or how,
If there be one, it can be worse? Can we
Be said to live? Live those, who full of fear,
Who abject, and suspicious, drag along
Their infamous and pining days? To us
What injury can arise? That in the place
Of shameful and inefficacious tears,
Blood should perchance be shed? And what? Dost thou
Call shedding blood the greatest injury?
Thou, that, a thousand times, with noble joy,
To me, a child, the ancient times recalledst,
And execratedst these degenerate days;
Thou now like every vulgar recreant here,
Submittest to the yoke thy passive neck?
Gu.
There was a time, I seek not to deny it,
When, urged by intolerance of our many wrongs,
And full of anger, and elastic spirits,
I would have sacrificed, without a thought,
My wealth, my honours, and my life, to crush
The usurpation of new tyrants, raised
On our misfortunes: to the fire of youth
All things seem easy; so they seemed to me.
But finding to my great designs few friends,
And those few friends of wavering constancy;
Beholding every year that tyranny
Struck deeper roots in this impoverished soil;
And lastly being a father; all induced me,
To safer, but less elevated schemes,
To turn my thoughts. The tyrants would have found
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Hence sought I their alliance. I bestow'd
On thee their sister's hand. Since we no more
Flourish'd beneath the shade of liberty;
I hence would see thee, and thy future son
Placed in the covert of the plumes, at least,
Of tyranny's audacious, spreading wings.
Ray.
Protection infamous, and insecure.
Bianca, although sister of the tyrants,
Is thence not insupportable to me:
Her, and the sons which she to me has given,
Though nephews of the tyrants, I hold dear.
My blameless wife I blame not for her brothers;
Thyself I blame alone, in having mix'd
Their blood with ours, oh father. In this act
I would not thwart thy purpose: but at last
Thou seest the fruits of such servility:
By this alliance thou didst hope to reap
Honour and influence; and we thence have reap'd
Contempt, disparagement, and infamy.
The citizens abhor us, and with reason;
We are the tyrants' kinsmen; thence have they
Exchanged their hatred towards us for contempt;
And we, who were not citizens, deserve it.—
Gu.
Thou hadst found me, in other climes, oh son,
A spur to illustrious deeds, and not a check.
What it has cost my not ignoble heart
To smother indignation, and to feign
An insincere attachment, thou thyself
Canst best conceive. E'en from thy infancy
I have, 'tis true, discover'd in thy heart
The seeds of irritable independence:
At first, I must confess, I saw with joy
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I inwardly regretted, when in thee
I contemplated afterwards a soul
Too free and lofty. Thence it seem'd to me
That the consummate sweetness of Bianca
Was not ill qualified to mitigate
Thy perilous impetuosity.
At length thou wert a father; and art still so,
As I am to my sorrow ... Ah! that I
Had never been so! Then at once with her,
And for her, had my country seen me die.
Ray.
And dared'st thou make me a father, where
To be a father, is to be a slave?
Gu.
Ah then at least our servitude was doubtful.
Ray.
Our infamy indeed was less confirm'd ...
Gu.
'Tis true; I hoped, since to our common wrongs,
All remedies were fruitless and too late,
That thou might'st pass thy days in quietness,
Blest in a father's and a husband's feelings ...
Ray.
But, e'en though I were sprung from other blood,
Can any being tranquilly enjoy
Domestic transports in a place like this?
I was not, no, assuredly to these
Vain trappings of vain magistracy, born,
Which make him seem the first who is the last.
For this perchance the tyrants have to-day
Assay'd to take them from me: trappings these,
So much the more disgraceful, as they are
The cloak of simulated liberty.
'Twas infamous to invest me with them; now
'Twill be as infamous to rob me of them:
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Gu.
Report of this
Is spread; it even reached my ears; but I
Cannot believe it, no ...
Ray.
Why not believe it?
Have not they shewn us more offensive insults?
Possessions seized, dost thou no more remember,
Our statutes changed, alone to aim at us?
Since we ignobly made ourselves their kinsmen,
We've always been more exquisitely injured.
Gu.
Hear me, oh son: and to my hoary age,
My long experience, trust. The just disdain
Which in the deep recesses of my heart
I also cherish, with rash impotence
Exhaust not thou: we yet awhile may bear:
I ne'er can think that they would take from thee
A dignity conferr'd, whate'er it be.—
But yet, should they all bounds of sufferance pass,
Be silent thou: full oft revengeful words
Defeat revengeful deeds. A lofty silence
Is the precursor of a lofty vengeance.
The courteous carriage of the tyrants towards us
Gives thee a precedent for valid hate.
Meanwhile, oh son, I would alone exhort,
And teach thee, to endure ... Nor afterwards,
Shall I disdain, if one day it be needful,
To learn from thee how to direct the blow.
| The Conspiracy of the Pazzi | |