University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Cosmo, Diego, Piero, Garcia.
Cos.
Oh sons, ye are not now assembled here
In a light cause. 'Twill be most grateful to me,
Since to the test ye now will all be brought,
To make a trial of your several skills.
But each of you, ere I divulge my thoughts,
Swear to me solemnly to speak the truth,
And in the secret of your hearts to hide
The mystery which I now unfold to you.

Di.
I swear it by this sword.

Pi.
I by my father.

Gar.
I swear it by my honour.

Cos.
Hear me then.—
My cause is yours: let not your heart admit
Hate, love, or partialities, not mine.
Such I esteem you, that I do not think
That any counsel more than yours will serve me.
'Twere bootless now to recapitulate
Wherefore the light inhabitants of Florence
To me are irksome; wherefore I retired
To seek in these beloved walls of Pisa
A calmer dwelling place, ye all well know.
From hence with safer and as tight a curb
I equally controul the turbulent,
Malignant, factious, faithless multitude,
Unfit to govern, indisposed to obey;
Yet their obedience is no longer doubtful;
Although, on this account, I do not sit
Securely on the throne. Our ancestors
Often encounter'd formidable perils;
And every object to my heart suggests
A warning whisper, that I should not trust
A transient sunshine, a fallacious calm.
For the most part my enemies subdued,
Dispersed, or slain, I see alone of these
One formidable now remain to me:
He is allied to me in blood; in mien
Conciliatory; though I heed it not,
He evermore pursues me like my shadow.
Modest in words, obsequious in manners;
But, in his inmost heart, replete with rage,
And circumventive purposes ...

Di.
He is ...

Cos.
The impious Salviati.—What though he
Be my near relative; although the son
Of the brother of my mother, he no less,
Than was his father once, is our sworn foe.
That fierce old man, (you've heard me speak of him)
Who preach'd of liberty, because the throne,
Although he wish'd it, was beyond his reach;
He that attempted to dissuade me from it,
E'en on the very day in which I was,
By the concurring senate and the people,
Invited to the throne. My mother's tears,
And his extreme old age, a pardon gain'd
For his pestiferous audacity.
But this contested sceptre he not thus
Could ever pardon me. What could he do,
An impotent old man? The messengers
Of death he heard, and sinking to the tomb,
That ineffectual poison in his heart
Which he conceal'd, e'en to the very dregs
He pour'd it in the bosom of his son.
Now I am sure that, son of a scorn'd father,
He hates me bitterly, and, what is worse,
He speaks it not: hence vigilance in me
Is indispensable. My mother perhaps
Was, while she lived, a hindrance to his views;
Now she is dead we should no more delay;
We should not only wrest from him the power
Of injuring, but attempting it. The means
The best and speediest for such effect,
Freely let each of you point out to me.

Di.
Father and lord, not only of ourselves
But of all here, what can I say to thee
Of policy of state, which thou know'st not?
Methinks who pleases not his lord, of guilt,
Is, by this fact, sufficiently convicted.
What then is he who, hated, hates again?
Say, has a monarch relatives? Since fate,
When she bestows a throne, denies all friends,
A prince should never tolerate a foe,
Neither an open foe nor foe conceal'd.
Take from him warning who before thee held
The Tuscan sceptre, Alexander, he
Who died, by treachery butcher'd; he should teach thee
E'en more than others to distrust relations.
Feign'd amity, and long-feign'd services,
And consanguinity, at length bestow'd
On the perfidious Lorenzo means
To plunge his dagger in the royal breast.
The prince in part of his refractory mind
Was well aware, yet would he not diffide:
Nay, he caress'd him, made him of his friends,
So that at last he slew him.—Ah! forestall
The hate of others: lenity, display'd
By those who can dispense with it, alone
To terror is attributed: and kings,
More than all thoughts, should hide their thoughts of fear.
'Tis the most jealous mystery of state;
Woe if it be discovered; thence at once
The fears of others cease; and what ensues?
'Tis my advice that Salviati perish;
But let him perish in the eye of day.
He offends thee; and thou condemn'st him justly.
But suffer not obscure and timid clouds
To intercept the vivifying rays
Of thy unlimited authority.

Gar.
If to a prince born on the throne, and thence
Beneath the tranquil shade of prosperous fate,
Amid the luxuries of a court matured,
I here should speak, as I intend to do,
Father, thou would'st not hear me now at length.
To mould the monarch who has never seen
The threatening aspect of adversity,
Would be a vain, impracticable task.
But, Cosmo, thou who from the throne afar,
And from its hopes, amid vicissitudes,
Hast past thy youthful years; on Tyber's banks,
Now on the shores of Adria, and now
'Mid lonely rocks of the Ligurian Alps,
Concealed by thy mother; finally,
Thou who hast felt the weight of powerful hatred,
Lend me, I pray thee, a benignant ear.
For many years have fortune, art, force, favour,
Given to the Medicean race, by turns,
An uncontroulable authority;
To which more splendour, strength, security,
Thou hast since added every day. Thou know'st
That Alexander's murderer hoped in vain
In a free state to meet with an asylum.
Thy sword in Venice reach'd him: unavenged
He fell there, where impartial laws alone
Maintain authority: and in his claws
The mighty lion saw the suppliant slain,
Who in his roaring placed too firm a trust;
He saw it, silently. Thy terrible name
Made either sea that bounds Italia tremble.
What wish for more? A throne without a foe?
That never was: to slay them all? Hast thou
A sword to do such prodigies? Reflect
Upon thy ancestors: which of them died
Beloved and powerful, in tranquillity?
Cosmo alone, he who enjoy'd what power
To him was delegated; he whom power
Sought in proportion as he sought it not.
Think of the others: Julian transfix'd;
The bold Lorenzo scarcely saved alive;
Pedro expell'd; and Alexander slain.
Yet these of blood were never avaricious.
Ah! these impressively suggest to thee
How slippery is the basis of that throne
Founded on blood.—Thou wilt slay Salviati,
Perhaps not guilty: other foes will rise;
They may be slain; still others will succeed.—
Suspicion's sword at length will turn its edge
Insatiable 'gainst him that grasp'd the hilt.
Ere it descend, hold it aloft a little:
Strike but one blow, and it will rest no more.
He who at once thee and thy fame offends,
Oh father, pardon thou.

Di.
'Tis ever thus
From me he differs.

Pi.
I in years inferior,
And thence in wisdom, since my sire commands,
Will notwithstanding speak. Diego's words
Are, like his actions, bold; nor do I blame,
Although my judgment utterly dissents
From his, the sentiments of Garcia.
I, at the very name of Salviati,
Which sounds to me like guilt, profoundly shudder.
Another Salviati dared to aim
At our Lorenzo the perfidious sword.
Father, I only grieve that hitherto
Thou'st shewn thyself too openly his foe.
Not that thou e'er could'st change that double heart
By more conciliatory practices;
But now and then it happens that a prince
Incurs less blame when he destroys his friends,
Than when he punishes his foes.—But one
Of the so many deaths with which the rage
Of dark Tiberius ne'er was satisfied,
One only was acceptable to Rome.
Whether Sejanus's conspiracy
Were true or false, his obsequies were mark'd
With taunts, and songs, and smiles, and public joy.
Friend to the prince, to all beside the foe;
Thence unavenged, abhorr'd, and vile, he fell.—
Would'st thou at once have Salviati slain,
And stop the comments of invidious tongues?
Do what thou hast not heretofore attempted:
Feign love to him; of pity thou dost rob him:
Raise him; thou giv'st him a large field for error;
Reward him; he will be at once a traitor.
Beneath the semblance of just punishment
Thus cloak revenge; and thus the prince obtains
His object, and the name of merciful.

Cos.
Yes, one may reign with maxims such as these;
But thine, Diego, I esteem more regal.
He who esteems it possible to govern
Without deceit or terror is a fool.
Little a son's, and less a prince's thoughts,
Garcia, in thee I recognize. Speak'st thou
To Cosmo king, of Cosmo citizen?
Would'st thou that on the throne I recollect
My cruel destiny?—And I will do it,
By baffling the attacks of adverse fate.—
What strange perplexing jargon dost thou use?
Thou callest terror, prudence; abjectness,
Thou call'st humanity; and when I ask thee
How I may slay my mortal enemy,
Thou dost instruct me in the means to save him.

Di.
Garcia, my younger brother, born to obey me,
It is no wonder should he not possess
A spirit correspondent to the throne;
And if he meek and private qualities
Profess or feign ...

Gar.
Virtue will always be
The same; for subjects and for kings the same.
Question'd, I speak my thoughts: if such a soul
As thine be requisite to royalty,
I feel rejoiced that I expect no sceptre:
And if, as thou allegest, I was born
To obedience, I shall willingly obey,
But him alone who knoweth how to rule.

Cos.
And I am he. And do thou recollect
That I know how to make myself obey'd:
Love and respect Diego as myself.—
I sought alone to know your sentiments,
And not to be advised. I saw, I knew,
I heard: enough.—To you, in words and deeds,
And even thoughts, I only now am law.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Diego, Piero, Garcia.
Gar.
He from our deeds, far more than from our words,
Can betwixt us discriminate. But yet,
I feel no grief that I have thus reveal'd
My judgment to my father: to my lips
Perchance the feelings which my heart contains
Should run less volubly; but hitherto
I have not learn'd the talent to suppress,
And now I fear it never will be mine.

Di.
What more doth Cosmo want? Within his palace,
Among his sons, he finds a lofty censor
Who teaches him to reign.

Gar.
What fearest thou?
Thou ever wilt be more acceptable
To him than me. To kings those are most welcome
Who best know how in their sword's edge to place
Infallibility.

Pi.
Why should your rage,
Because ye differ in opinion, thus
Transgress all bounds? I too dissent from you;
But not, on this account, I love you less.
Brothers, and sons, and subjects of one father
Are not we all? Now go ...

Gar.
Let each of us
Indulge his own opinions: praise I seek not;
Nor cast I blame on others. Certainly,
I say, that we shall all the grievous load
Of public hate endure, if Cosmo chuse
To adopt deceit or force; from this will rise
The scorn of others, and from that the rage;
The vengeance from them both.

Di.
Oh! wise and great
Assuredly thou art: may it please thee
To sit the moderator of our youth.—
Now, when wilt thou be silent? To thy sire
Thou wert already known; by him already,
In such esteem as thou deservest, held.
Go; if thou lovest darkness, live obscure:
But, since thou addest nothing to our brightness,
Make us not shadows of thy central gloom.

Gar.
I call that infamy which thou call'st splendour.
But my discourse of that peace robs you not
Which is not in yourselves: peace ill is bought
With universal cries; ill with the blood
Of innocent citizens. An alien
Among you I am born; but, since that I
Nathless am born among you, do not hope
That I shall ever hide from you the truth.

Pi.
Thou art not, Garcia, to thy sire a foe:
Then why the friend to him that does offend him?

Gar.
The friend of justice, and of nothing else.
To you I thus address myself, but keep
Towards strangers an inflexible reserve.
I am willing to believe one supreme lord,
Where he doth keep himself within the pale
Of natural rights, doth best bested a people;
But tyranny? ... It is my execration;
And ah, my father doth too much affect it!
I ever was more tender of his honour
Than of his power: with a true love I love him,
And if o'er him my prayers will not avail,
They shall be all turn'd tyranny to lessen.

Di.
And I (if I avail) will concentrate
My efforts all to give stability
To sacred power, which a rash rebel dares
To stigmatize unjustly.

Gar.
The design
Is worthy of thyself.

Di.
Dost thou insult me?
Soon will I make thee ...

Pi.
Stop: replace thy sword.

Gar.
Permit him, Piero, to display his sword.
He of himself would give a worthy sample,
A hopeful omen of his future reign,
His sword against his brother.

Pi.
Ah, refrain ...
And thou, be silent! ...

Di.
Change thy style, or I ...

Gar.
I clearly see: anger in thee supplies
The place of reason. I am not incensed,
Whom reason only moves.

Di.
Perhaps thou art
More backward in performance than in speech;
Hence art thou not incensed.

Gar.
Far more am I
To terror, than to action, indisposed.

Di.
And who knows this?

Gar.
My sword.—And thou should'st know it ...
If I were not thy brother.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Diego, Piero.
Di.
Thou, my brother?
We evermore were too dissimilar.

Pi.
Appease thyself; thy generous resentment
He merits not. Heard'st thou his insolence?
Heard'st thou how proudly he exults in treason,
Much less then blushes at it?

Di.
Thou shalt see
One day, that he will be forced to renounce
His foolish pride: wait till I reign, and then ...

Pi.
To thee, 'tis true, the throne belongs by right;
But not by accident speaks Garcia thus.
Well know I, that my father hath reposed
All his affection, all his hope in thee;
To him art thou far dearer than the light:
But he descends towards the decline of life.
Thou know'st how love in aged hearts grows cold;
How feebly hoary age defends itself
'Gainst female stratagems. This Garcia is
His mother's darling: she's possess'd by him:
And, thou know'st, loves us little ...

Di.
What fear I?
The throne to me is due; not e'en my sire
Could take it from me. Grant that he could do it,
I should suffice to re-obtain it. Well,
Our father knows us.

Pi.
It is true; but art ...

Di.
Art to the vile I give. I know that he
Is too dear to his mother. Equally
Were he to Cosmo, should I heed it? no!
I fear not, hate not, envy not my brother.

Pi.
But thou know'st not what culpable designs
Garcia hides in his heart ...

Di.
And do I ever
Investigate the purposes of others?

Pi.
But unknown to his father ...

Di.
And would I,
Think'st thou, repeat them to him? That would be
In me far viler than in other men:
Since betwixt us harsh menaces have past,
Each word of mine would seem like craft or vengeance.
I know my father, and am well aware
How little he is able to subdue
The first assaults of rage; to fatal proof
'Twere better not to bring him. If my brother
Deteriorates spontaneously, let him
Alone abide the consequence of this.
But if he any more attempts to offend me,
I hope, he cannot say, that for his wrongs
I've sought redress from any but himself.