 | The Sisters |  |
Scene I.
—A stage representing a garden by the sea.Song (from within).
Love and Sorrow met in May
Crowned with rue and hawthorn-spray,
And Sorrow smiled.
Scarce a bird of all the spring
Durst between them pass and sing,
And scarce a child.
Crowned with rue and hawthorn-spray,
And Sorrow smiled.
Scarce a bird of all the spring
Durst between them pass and sing,
And scarce a child.
Love put forth his hand to take
Sorrow's wreath for sorrow's sake,
Her crown of rue.
Sorrow cast before her down
Even for love's sake Love's own crown,
Crowned with dew.
Sorrow's wreath for sorrow's sake,
Her crown of rue.
Sorrow cast before her down
Even for love's sake Love's own crown,
Crowned with dew.
Winter breathed again, and spring
Cowered and shrank with wounded wing
Down out of sight.
May, with all her loves laid low,
Saw no flowers but flowers of snow
That mocked her flight.
Cowered and shrank with wounded wing
Down out of sight.
May, with all her loves laid low,
Saw no flowers but flowers of snow
That mocked her flight.
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Love rose up with crownless head
Smiling down on springtime dead,
On wintry May.
Sorrow, like a cloud that flies,
Like a cloud in clearing skies,
Passed away.
Smiling down on springtime dead,
On wintry May.
Sorrow, like a cloud that flies,
Like a cloud in clearing skies,
Passed away.
Enter Alvise.
ALVISE.
This way she went: the nightingales that heard
Fell silent, and the loud-mouthed salt sea-wind
Took honey on his lips from hers, and breathed
The new-born breath of roses. Not a weed
That shivers on the storm-shaped lines of shore
But felt a fragrance in it, and put on
The likeness of a lily.
Enter Galasso.
GALASSO.
Thou art here.
God will not let thee hide thyself too close
For hate and him to find thee. Draw: the light
Is good enough to die by.
ALVISE.
Thou hast found him
That would have first found thee. Set thou thy sword
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As is my soul to slay thee.
[They draw.
Enter Beatrice and Francesca.
BEATRICE.
What is this?
What serpent have ye trod on?
ALVISE.
Didst thou bid me
Draw, seeing far off the surety for thy life
That women's tongues should bring thee?
BEATRICE.
Speak not to him.
Speak to me—me, Alvise.
ALVISE.
Sweet, be still.
Galassi, shall I smite thee on the lips
That dare not answer with a lie to mine
And know they cannot, if they speak, but lie?
GALASSO.
Thou knowest I dare not in Beatrice's sight
Strike thee to hell—nor threaten thee.
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I know
Thou liest. She stands between thy grave and thee,
As thou between the sun and hell.
FRANCESCA.
My lord,
Forbear him.
GALASSO.
I am not thy lord; who made me
Master or lord of thine? Not God should say,
Save with his tongue of thunder, and be heard
(If hearing die not in a dead man's ear),
‘Forbear him.’
ALVISE.
Nay, Beatrice, bid not me
Forbear: he will not let me bid him live.
GALASSO.
Thou shalt not find a tongue some half-hour hence
To pray with to my sword for time to pray
And die not damned.
FRANCESCA.
Sir, speak not blasphemy.
Death's wings beat round about us day and night:
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Take heed.
GALASSO.
Of what? of God, or thee? Not I.
But let Beatrice bend to me—
ALVISE.
To thee?
Bend? Nay, Beatrice, bind me not in chains,
Who would not play thy traitor: give my sword
What God gives all the waves and birds of the air,
Freedom.
BEATRICE.
He gives it not to slay.
ALVISE.
He shall.
Are the waves bloodless or the vultures bland?
Loose me, love: leave me: let me go.
BEATRICE.
Thou shalt not
Put off for me before my face thy nature,
Thy natural name of man, to mock with murder
The murderous waves and beasts of ravin. Slay me,
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Shall know not of it ever.
GALASSO.
Vivarini,
These women's hands that here strike peace between us
To-morrow shall not stead thee. Live a little:
My sword is not more thirsty than the sea,
Nor less secure in patience. Thou shalt find
A sea-rock for thy shipwreck on dry land here
When thou shalt steer again upon the steel of it
And find its fang's edge mortal.
[Exit.
ALVISE.
Have ye shamed me?
Mine enemy goes down seaward with no sign
Set of my sword upon him.
BEATRICE.
Let him pass.
To-morrow brings him back from sea—if ever
He come again.
FRANCESCA.
How should not he come back, then?
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The sea hath shoals and storms.
ALVISE.
God guard him—till
He stand within my sword's reach!
FRANCESCA.
Pray thou rather
God keep thee from the reach of his.
ALVISE.
He cannot,
Except he smite to death or deadly sickness
One of us ere we join. My saint Beatrice,
Thou hast no commission, angel though thou be, sweet,
Given thee of God to guard mine enemy's head
Or cross me as his guardian.
BEATRICE.
Would I cross thee,
The spirit I live by should stand up to chide
The soul-sick will that moved me. Yet I would not,
Had I God's leave in hand to give thee, give
Thy sword and his such leave to cross as might
Pierce through my heart in answer.
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Wouldst thou bid me,
When he comes back to-morrow from the sea
Whereon to-day his ship rides royal, yield
Thee and my sword up to him?
FRANCESCA.
Nay, not her:
Thy sword she might.
ALVISE.
She would not.
BEATRICE.
Fain I would,
And keep thine honour perfect.
ALVISE.
That may be,
When heaven and hell kiss, and the noon puts on
The starry shadow of midnight. Sweet, come in:
The wind grows keener than a flower should face
And fear no touch of trouble. Doubt me not
That I will take all heed for thee and me,
Who am now no less than one least part of thee.
[Exeunt.
| The Sisters | |