University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Cosmo, Garcia.
Gar.
See me, oh father, at thy call.—Thy words,
If it be lawful to anticipate
With prompt and humble filial respect,
I now, by first accusing my own fault,
Can somewhat mitigate thy just displeasure,
And my own shame. Oh, could I thus appear
A little less unworthy in thy eyes
Of pardon! nought else in the world I wish.
Stung by Diego, I insulted him;
I do regret this deeply: nor could'st thou
A punishment inflict that might compare
With my repentance. Dearer to thyself,
Older than I, and by long habitude
Of all my actions the appointed censor,
Diego should find nothing else in me
But full obsequious silence, patience, peace.

Cos.
What I would say to thee, thou hast in part
Forestall'd; but not the whole. It pleases me
To hear that from thy breast all hate is banish'd;
Whate'er may be its cause, I feel no wrath
Paternal, that subsides not at thy words.
I never yet have entertain'd a doubt
But that the rage would be no sooner cool'd,
Which to exasperating words impell'd you,
Than that both instantly would come to me
To make atonement. Now there doth arise,
T'obliterate the first, betwixt you both
The nobler strife of self-disparagement;
Whence I absolve you both, and neither deem
Guilty in this.—Further I now would say.—
Within my mind have I revolved thy counsel,
Which, as inopportune and indiscreet,
I blamed this morning. Now thou art convinced
That the first judgment is not always best:
E'en in proportion as I meditate,
'Mid various other sentiments, on thine,
Less they displease me. Not that I believe
That I should blindly trust in Salviati;
Too much he hates me: but he also fears,
And fears effectively. Had I the power
To introduce betwixt our mutual hate
A valid obstacle, or to devise
Such ties as might reciprocally join us
In firm alliance, in one word a means
Whence common interests might league us both,
And make us both secure, I might perchance
Not only wean my heart from schemes of blood,
But further, with conciliatory thoughts
Dispose it to relent ...

Gar.
What do I hear?
Can this be true, my father? What a tide
Of lofty transport inundates my breast!
Not that I dare found the presumptuous hope
On my opinions, that I can instruct
My sovereign lord; but real joy I feel
To be convinced, that, to obtain his ends,
My father rather chuses to use means
Of gentleness, than menaces and blood.
Centred is all authority in him
Who sits upon the throne; he, at his will,
Can mitigate, or strengthen fear or hate,
In all his vassals.—Could he utterly
Eradicate them from the hearts of others,
And from his own!—But niggard fate denies
Such blest exemption to the breasts of monarchs.

Cos.
But what would be the consequence, if I
With too great mildness should reproach myself?

Gar.
Was a good heart e'er self-reproach'd for this?
Nor should'st thou fear that injury to thee
Can thence result. The customary hate
Of those by royal prejudice pursued,
To Salviati's elevated soul
Is utterly unknown. He knows full well
That he has forfeited thy love for ever:
He hath no hope, nor hath he any fear,
To check his projects: for himself he fears not;
He, when he lost thy favour, lost his all.
Yet, notwithstanding this, he doth propose
To all his deeds, one uniform condition,
How he may please thee best; and thou by means
Direct canst never lose him, if thou dost not
Take indirect ones to indulge thy rancour.

Cos.
There are then who deceive me? ... Oh sad lot
Of those who are most powerful! How ferocious
Have others represented him to me!
Here, all are emulously fraudulent;
And each one to his private projects makes
My power subservient ...

Gar.
It is known to all
That Salviati's father was thy foe:
Hence each one emulously paints his son
To thee an infamous, perfidious rebel ...

Cos.
Ah, thou dost speak too truly! Ill a prince,
If others penetrate his heart, can know
The hearts of other men.—But tell me further:
Whence dost thou now so accurately know
What are his dispositions? Although he
Has followed me to Pisa, in my court
Him have I never seen. What do I say,
In court? All human converse he avoids,
And drags on such a solitary life,
That one would say, that he in secret broods
O'er heavy incommunicable thoughts;
And that of every man he is mistrustful.

Gar.
If it were lawful, I would say ...

Cos.
Speak on:
The truth is pleasing to me; I delight
To hear thee.

Gar.
In thy footsteps here he came,
But only to remove from thee all doubt
Of his fidelity; for in the midst
Of factious spirits, with which Florence teems,
Thou always would'st have held that faith precarious.
With him sometimes I have had interviews;
This I deny not: ah, hadst thou but heard him!
His heart surcharged with bitterness and anguish,
With how much reverence, and with how much fear,
He, with subdued resentment, mourn'd thy error;
And never thee, but thy perfidious friends,
The persevering foes to truth alone
He blamed for this; and even deems not thine
Thy own suspicions ...

Cos.
But that thou'rt my son
He knows; how tell thee? ...

Gar.
Perhaps he thinks me
Of pity capable ...

Cos.
I understand:
Thy influence with me in his favour ...

Gar.
He
Knows that my words on thee are ineffectual ...

Cos.
Thou hast perchance divulged to him thy secrets:—
Thou always sad; always, like him, alone:—
Perhaps common sympathies unite you both.
He pitying thy wrongs, as thou pitiest his,
Without exception may not hate my blood?
He hears thee, speaks to thee? far different ...

Gar.
Ah different, yes, from that which fame reports him.
Thou dost inspire me with a hardihood
Which I had never of myself assumed.
Know, that thy dearest friend (chuse whom thou wilt
'Mong those whom thou with honours and with gold
Hast laden, I will not say surfeited,)
I swear, is less devoted to thy service,
And loves thee less, and less would risk for thee,
Than that degraded, obscure Salviati,
Assured in heart of his own innocence,
Which, to increase the poignance of his woes,
He's not allow'd to prove.—If in contempt
He such is found, reflect what he would be
If worthily esteem'd.

Cos.
... Truly this man
Hath roused a tender interest in thy heart:
Thy words are strong, yet hence I blame thee not.
Since thou assertest it, he must at least
Have some good qualities: but speak; and speak
The truth; thou know'st not how to lie already?
Now do his virtues only thus excite
Thee to commend him?

Gar.
Ah! since thou dost think
I know not how to lie, I will not now
E'en partially divulge to thee the truth.
Love also rouses me: I burn for Julia;
And hence have double pity for the father.

Cos.
And he knows this?

Gar.
I told it him.

Cos.
He aids thee?

Gar.
No, he condemns it: I condemn it also.
Nay, what dost thou suppose me?

Cos.
Circumspect,
But not in time.

Gar.
Love doth not blind me, no;
Nor doth it rob me of integrity.
I speak to thee in praise of Salviati,
Since in subservience to his principles
He holds all selfish interests: otherwise
I would have represented him to thee,
If I had found him otherwise; were he
As he is adverse, to my love propitious.
I have not learn'd to varnish o'er the truth;
Nor do I even with a latent hope
Foster the passion that consumes my vitals:
Which neither I will nourish in my heart,
Nor can I e'er extinguish it. I know
That thy inflexible and austere will
From Julia separates me eternally.
Pity from thee I do not ask: too well
I know, for this immitigable wound
I have no other remedy than death!
I have entreated for her innocent father,
For such I know he is; but were he not,
Love would ne'er lead me to betray my own.

Cos.
Perfidious, I would hear from thy own lips
The whole; but thou speak'st not the whole to me.
Thy love for Julia is thy least offence.

Gar.
Oh Heaven! What do I hear? Must I ne'er deem
Goodness in thee sincere?

Cos.
Thou never should'st,
Thinking of thee, no never!—Fully thou
Dost know thy heart, thou traitor.—I erewhile
Have sought the means, whence I might take away
That miscreant from my eyes: fortune, behold,
Brings them to me; and indicates at once
The instrument. Is it thy wish to clear
Thyself of turpitude in my opinion?
Would'st thou that I should deem love thy sole crime?
Little of this declining day remains:
At the first gathering of the shades of night,
Let guilty Salviati come unknown,
Clandestinely, within my palace walls,
As heretofore he has been wont to come;
And thou invite him; and do thou conduct him
To the accustom'd haunt, in which so oft
He has conversed with thee: and there do thou
(Woe fall on thee if thou refuse me this!)
Plunge in his breast this sword.

Gar.
Oh Heaven!

Cos.
Be silent.
Thou hast betray'd thy sire, thy lord, thyself:
This is th'atonement. What? when I command
Dar'st thou resist?

Gar.
And dost thou stand in need
Of other hands more infamous for this?

Cos.
I have selected thine: let that suffice.

Gar.
I will first perish.

Cos.
Say not so; my hand
Grasps the sure earnest of thy prompt obedience.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Garcia.
Gar.
What looks! ... Alas ... Oh father, hear ... Oh words!
But, of what earnest speaks he? Through each vein
I feel an unaccustom'd chillness creep.
Perhaps he alludes to Julia? ... Yes ... what pledge
Can vie with her? Oh Heaven! ... What can I do? ...

SCENE THE THIRD.

Eleonora, Garcia.
Ele.
Son, whither dost thou go? Ah stay; to me
Interpret the mysterious words of Cosmo.
Hither he hath dispatch'd me to assist thee:
Wherefore? Say what has happen'd? ...

Gar.
Oh, my mother! ...
What did he say to thee?

Ele.
“Go; give advice
“To thy beloved Garcia, now he needs thee:
“And make him recollect.”—Nor added more;
But with a countenance more discomposed
Than ever I beheld in him, pass'd on.
Now speak; delay not; what has happen'd?

Gar.
Mother,
Know'st thou this sword?

Ele.
I, at thy father's side,
Have always seen it hang; and what of this? ...

Gar.
This is an instrument of government:
Ah, were it Cosmo's only! Ne'er should I
Contaminate with it my innocent hand!
But to this right-hand my unnatural father
Himself consign'd it, and insists that I
Plunge it by stealth in Salviati's breast.

Ele.
What do I hear? ... Oh Heaven! ... But whence to thee
Commits he such a terrible revenge?

Gar.
He chuses me, only because I feel
Pity for Salviati; and because
I am not yet contaminate with blood;
Because the daughter, the unhappy daughter,
Of that unhappy father, I adore.

Ele.
What say'st thou? Julia!

Gar.
I love Julia; yes;
And indiscreetly I myself declared
That love to Cosmo: hence in him arose
Th'unnatural wish, worthy of him alone,
To make the father of the maid beloved
Die by the lover's hands. Time serves not now
To say to thee how I was first enthrall'd
By so much beauty join'd to so much virtue;
Nor, if I told it, would'st thou blame it, mother;
Now I alone assure thee that I love her,
And that I will far sooner sacrifice
My own life than her father's.

Ele.
Ah! ... my son! ...
Alas! ... what say'st thou? ... and what shall I do?
Oh fatal love! ... Although I love thee far,
Far more than aught besides, I cannot praise it.

Gar.
Julia is ever at thy side, oh mother;
Thou knowest well, and equally dost prize
Her rare accomplishments; and thou dost love her
More than all other damsels of thy court:
Thence thou may'st well infer that I deserve
At least to be excused, if not commended.
But, if thou rather wilt, condemn me: never
Have I displeased thee, mother: I have held
Thy smallest wish inviolably sacred.
And I, at least, if I cannot root out
This love, can moderate its ecstacies.
I only ask of thee that thou would'st save
That heavenly and defenceless innocence,
From Cosmo's pitiless and fatal grasp.
I wish to save her, not to make her mine.
Incensed, and loading me with frantic threats,
Cosmo departed hence: perchance one crime
Will not suffice to his ferocious heart;
Perhaps Julia too ... oh Heaven! ... Ah, mother, fly;
If I was ever dear to thee, go now,
Watch o'er my love. Who knows? ...

Ele.
Thy love excites
In thee immoderate fear ...

Gar.
All may be fear'd
From Cosmo's deadly rage: thou yet hast time;
Thou hast the remedy; it now behoves thee
His fury to delude; 'twere vain to sooth him.
As best it may be done, deliver Julia;
And meanwhile feign that I am now almost
Prepared t'obey: time, and nought else, I ask.
In fine, thou art a mother; and the love
Thou bear'st thy son shall animate thy heart.
Thou oughtest from so horrible a crime
T'exempt a son; thou oughtest to deliver
From unjust violence an innocent maid.
Thou see'st me now humble myself in tears,
And supplicate while yet a hope remains:
Woe, if my father goad me to revenge;
Woe, if he dare to wreak his rage on her
In whom alone I live! Rivers of blood
Shall be effused to inundate the palace;
And this my arm shall shed it. Then no more
Shall I hear reason; then no more shall deem
Myself a son.

Ele.
Ah calm thyself; what say'st thou?
Thou seest things that are not: far from thee
Be e'en the thought of such extravagance ...

Gar.
Do thou, oh mother, then anticipate
That which thou canst not afterwards prevent.
From this severe extremity, to which
I'm driven by my father, do thou find
Some method of escape for me, that I
Be not a traitor.

Ele.
Yes, son, yes; but calm
Thy irritated soul: to him I fly.
Ah may I change his horrible resolve!
Julia I will at least in safety place,
To give thee peace. Meanwhile I interdict
Thee from attempting aught till I return.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Garcia.
Gar.
If Julia is not safe, I will do nothing.—
Alas! what do I hope? that to cheat Cosmo
My mother may avail, who bears the marks
Of apprehension in her every look?
Oh, from what father am I sprung! Alike
Crafty and cruel, can he be deceived?
Much less be moved to pity ... Yet he will not
Have wreaked his rage upon the timid maid,
Ere he has learn'd that I refuse to strike
Th'atrocious blow ... Shall I consent to it? ...

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Piero, Garcia.
Pi.
Brother, what hast thou done? Alas! ...

Gar.
What ails thee?

Pi.
In truth I now do pity thee sincerely.

Gar.
Now? ... What has happened? ...

Pi.
Oh unhappy brother!
Cosmo doth threaten thee, and darkly frowns,
Pronouncing thee a traitor.

Gar.
Such I am not.

Pi.
But yet my father is exasperate
Beyond all bounds. He hath already summon'd
Into his presence Salviati's daughter,
Laden with heavy and opprobrious chains.

Gar.
Oh Heaven! ... Vile tyrant ... I will fly ...

Pi.
Ah! ... Where?

Gar.
To drag her from unworthy chains.

Pi.
Thou may'st
Drag her to horrid death by thy imprudence.
Under the penalty of death he gave her
Into the custody of cruel Geri.
If he, by whomsoever it may be,
Perceives the smallest action in her favour,
Geri is bidden instantly to slay her
With his own hands ...

Gar.
We soon shall see ...

Pi.
Ah stop! ...
What would'st thou do?

Gar.
To slay her? Oh distraction! ...
But was he not accosted by my mother? ...

Pi.
She came erewhile; but the terrific sentence
Was executed. She would speak to him;
But her indignant consort silenced her:
She wept; but tears he told her were not wanted:
He said, “To exculpate himself from all,
“I to thy Garcia have consign'd the means.”

Gar.
Of what, of what, to exculpate myself?
Being thy son? Indelible that blot.—
Gave me the means? Thou seest what means: this sword,
Which in the breast of wretched Salviati
I am appointed treacherously to plunge.
Ah Cosmo, why am I a son of thine?
Ah, were I not, this sword would then, indeed,
Be the best means to exculpate myself.
But against thee I cannot; oh distraction! ...
Against myself ...

Pi.
What would'st thou do? ... Desist ...

Gar.
Rather than see that much-loved maiden dragg'd
To ignominious death, rather than be
Polluted with her father's blood, I here
Would kill myself ...

Pi.
Ah pause; ... listen to me; ...
Reflect that Cosmo is unchangeable.
He, at all risks, wills Salviati's death:
And if from thee he wills it, by thy death
Thou sav'st not him; rather reservest him
For pangs more exquisite: ah, thou well knowest,
Whether, because defrauded of its means,
Cosmo's revenge abates. And th'innocent daughter,
Perhaps she too ...

Gar.
Oh Heaven!

Pi.
But why perhaps?
It is too sure! If thou refuse t'obey,
Father and daughter he will immolate.

Gar.
Thou mak'st me shudder with excess of horror.
But how can I destroy, and treacherously,
A just and innocent man? Hither entice
At night, and under the flagitious mask
Of simulated amity, a friend,
The father of the lady I adore? ...

Pi.
Ah! surely such extremity as thine
Was never heard before; nor are there minds
So firm, as not to shrink from such a trial.
But yet what would'st thou? What else canst thou do?
Thou only canst accumulate crime on crime.
Let one alone expire; that were the best ...

Gar.
And shall I live? ...

Pi.
Hear me. He is the culprit
Who forces thee to such a crime, not thou.—
But yet I can in part lessen for thee
The horror of this stratagem, if thou
Permittest that the messenger be sent
By me to Salviati in thy name.
Resolve; resolve at once; and oh! reflect
In what unutterable agony
Thy Julia languishes ...

Gar.
Beloved Julia! ...
And shall I kill thy father? ... No, I cannot ...
Yet, if I slay not him, I murder thee ...
For I can neither perish nor avenge thee,
And scarcely can I save thee!—But I ought,
Ere I resolve, once more to hear my mother:
Perchance my grief, my rage, my desperate love,
May point another path.

Pi.
Ah no! ...

Gar.
But yet
If 'tis my fate, that I this horrid crime ...
Hear me: if I return not in an hour
Hither to thee, it is indeed too true
That I was forced to chuse to immolate
The father of my Julia.—Then I leave
To thee, since thou wilt have it so, the task
To send the impious messenger of death.