University of Virginia Library

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.