University of Virginia Library

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.