University of Virginia Library

1. PART I.

Enter CIPRIANO, dressed like a student; CLARIN and MOSCO, with books.
CIPRIANO.
Now leave me;—with my books alone I'll stay;
And here I'll taste the sweets of solitude;
Amidst these trees my time I'll while away,
And in this grove, where noise does ne'er intrude.
For meanwhile Antioch doth celebrate
The op'ning of yon temple, which to Jove
With joy and feasting she doth consecrate
This day, and the god's image doth remove
To where 'tis more befitting it have place;
From all the din of its streets away I run;
And here, what yet remains of day, will chase
In meditation deep. Now haste, begone;
And go to Antioch; enjoy the glee.
But hither return, when the setting sun
Sinks to his burial-place in the sea;—
That silver monument, midst dark grey clouds,
The pond'rous golden fabric that enshrouds.—
Ye'll find me here.

MOSCO.
I long to see the sight;
I do confess it, sir. But ere I go,
A thousand words or two I'll say outright.
How is it, sir, so little wish you shew
To see the feasting of this happy day,
When others are so merry and so gay?
With your four books, out here you come, alack!
And on the merriment you turn your back!

CLARIN.
Our master is quite right; and to my mind
There's nothing so wearisome one can find
As one of your merry procession-days,
With all your dancing, your music, and plays.

MOSCO.
I'll tell you, Clarin, in plain words, with art
And management, you are a cunning bird.
You say my master's right, though in your heart
You think not what you say, no, not a word.

CLARIN.
Art wrong;—for when 'tis spoken face to face,
A lie hath always something more of grace;
And what I say I think.

CIPRIANO.
Mosco, enough;
And, Clarin, cease this nonsensical stuff;
Leave off this bickering and this pother,
And cease to contradict one another.
Hence, away; and return as I have bid,
When parts the day in sable shadows hid,
That clothe in darkness this great universe.

MOSCO.
Well, what if you did speak against the fun
Of seeing feasts; you might have said much worse.
Then come along, since you no harm have done.

CLARIN.
That's logic plain; for who himself would take
Advice he gives to others?

MOSCO.
Oh, for wings
To fly to Libia, 'twould my comfort make!

[Exit.
CLARIN.
Though truth I speak, 'tis Libia's self that brings
Such workings on my heart, for her I love;
But I'm afraid she will a traitress prove.

[Exit.
CIPRIANO.
And now I'm all alone; my genius now,
Must meditate upon and try to sound
This question deep, that I, with fever'd brow,
Have studied long—that's kept my soul spell-bound,
Since I that dark and mystic passage read,
Which Plinius wrote, concerning what is God.
My mind, with books and meditation fed,
As yet knows not this God, whose awful nod
Can miracles perform, and wonders shew:
This hidden truth my soul doth long to know.

Enter MISALETHES in holyday dress.
MISALETHES
(aside).
Ponder away, Cipriano; though clever,
With all thy books and learning, thou shalt never
Pierce this mystery; from thee I'll conceal it.

CIPRIANO.
There's noise amongst those branches, I did feel it.
Who's there? who are ye?

MISALETHES.
Sir, I am a stranger,
Who, in this mountain's breast, have lost my road,
And ever since the morn have been a ranger;
And I my horse, that's jaded with its load,
Have left behind, to rest and graze at will
Upon the verdant sward that decks this hill.
To Antioch I'm bound on matters pressing;
And, lost in thought, which is a common thing,
From all my friends and servants I did stray,
And thus I lost friends, servants, and my way.

CIPRIANO.
With Antioch's high towers before your eyes,
You can't find your way? you give me surprise;
There's not a path or road, 'mongst so many,
That does not lead right to it, choose any.

MISALETHES.
'Tis all my folly, with knowledge in view
To take no benefit; but it won't do
In a strange town to now appear alone,
Asking questions, and by nobody known;
And, till the coming night assert her sway,
I'll here remain the remnant of the day.
By your dress and books, sir, I guess should make
You are a student learn'd. I always take
A great delight in those who students are.

CIPRIANO.
Have you read?

MISALETHES.
No, but I can boast my share
Of knowledge; and that's quite enough I trow
To 'scape being call'd ignorant.

CIPRIANO.
Let me know
What science you do then possess.

MISALETHES.
Many.

CIPRIANO.
Oh, what vanity! without books you've acquired
So much knowledge, when others cannot any
Science reach, although they work until they're tir'd?

MISALETHES.
Yes,—for I come from a land where knowledge
Is got without books, study, or college.

CIPRIANO.
Oh, would I belong'd to that land! for here,
Though study we may, we never come near
To knowledge enough.

MISALETHES.
There you're in the right;
And I confess my vanity was such,
Although at books I'd never had a sight,
I once did undertake what was too much.
For a professorship I did compete,
And though I'd many votes, I lost my prize.
But what then, if I did sustain defeat?
Defeats are oft as good as victories.
If you doubt my word, we'll a point discuss.
Now say, what study is't you like the best?
Choose which side you like, and without more fuss,
Though right you choose, I'll put you to your test.

CIPRIANO.
Oh! I rejoice to find a man so clever.
In Plinius there's a passage that does give
My mind much thought, and I fear I will never
Know its meaning, however long I live.
What god he means, I cannot understand.

MISALETHES.
I remember; I have the words at hand.
“God is all goodness, one essence, one being;
One substance—all powerful, and all seeing.”

CIPRIANO.
That's it.

MISALETHES.
Well, what difficulty d'ye find?

CIPRIANO.
Who is that God, is mystery to my mind.
For if he is all goodness, even Jove
Himself is not; for he's not sin above.
We've seen it often; Danae witness,
And Europa; that can't hold him guiltless:
How can in all goodness these passions meet,
Where actions should be sacred and discreet?

MISALETHES.
Tush, man; these are mere fables, to be found
In books profane. No one with senses sound
But would see the names of the gods' disguis'd,
For what they call philosophy devis'd.

CIPRIANO.
Your answer satisfies me not; respect
To God ought such to be that none reflect
The slightest sin, though false, upon his name.
And further, if all goodness does proclaim
The gods' essence, of reason 'tis the test,
They'd always do their actions for the best.
For how can some be willing, others not?
See the doubtful answers their statues make.
Then do not say in books profane I got
My knowledge. Now, we will two armies take,
To whom their idols did give guarantee
That each would surely have the victory.
One lost it; then I may clearly deduce,
That wills oppos'd can't to one end conduce;
And if oppos'd, you must admit perforce,
If one is good, the other's bad in course:
Then how is it the gods all goodness are,
If they no union have, but constant war?

MISALETHES.
Your proposition I deny—because
These answers given thus to ends do go,
Which are decreed by Providence's laws,
Too deep for us poor mortals here to know.
And the loss of the battle to the loser
Might be of more avail than victory
To him that won it,—though you will say no, sir.

CIPRIANO.
You may be right; but you must surely see
That this god, since the gods do not deceive,
Ought not have made both armies to believe
They'd gain the battle—and if God sees all,
Any god might well see what would befall;
And seeing, surely would not promise make
Of a thing which effect would never take.
And if he be so great a deity,
Distinct in persons, he perforce must be,
At all times, one sole will essentially.

MISALETHES.
He had his reasons thus to stir the heart
With his voice.

CIPRIANO.
Well, we will suppose he had;
But spirits are not there both good and bad
'Mongst men, who good and bad advice impart?
And this is an argument that does prove
The soul's immortal. Then this god might move
The heart without the telling of a lie.

MISALETHES.
But you'll admit, though oppos'd the gods are
In will, disunion this does not imply;
For the gods disunited never were
In matters serious. See man's noble frame,
One sole conception, and one will the same.

CIPRIANO.
Then, if he's one, he's stronger than the rest;
But if they equal are, and jar they may
Sometimes as you admit, and here's your test;
When he attempted it—another'd say,
This must not be. How then is't this God can
All things? When he created man, since all
In power but not in will are equal,
Another god might uncreate this man—
Which of the two would conquer?

MISALETHES.
I dismiss
All idea of argument and logic
On propositions false, that make me sick;
But tell me, what do you infer from this?

CIPRIANO.
That there is but one God I do believe,
All goodness,—an all-powerful Being;
All grace, infallible, and all-seeing;
Superior, and who never does deceive;
Without a rival, and without equal,
A beginning without a beginning;
One sole essence, and one substantial thing;
One power alone, and one will in all.
And although like him more persons than one
There be, one sov'reign Deity alone
In essence he can be—of all things cause.

MISALETHES
(rising).
How can I deny you? 'tis very clear.

CIPRIANO.
Are you really convinc'd?

MISALETHES.
Sooth, I must pause
Before your learning superior, I fear;
Though something more I might certainly say;
But I see some people coming this way.
For Antioch's fair town I must depart.

CIPRIANO.
Peace be with you!

MISALETHES.
May peace rejoice your heart!
With all thy learning, thou shalt forget thy books,
[Aside.
And yield thee to the spell of a fair maid's looks.
Justina:—I'll persecute and trouble thee,
And my revenge shall both sweet and double be.

[Exit.
CIPRIANO.
So strange a man mine eyes did never see.
But since my men come not too hastily,
I'll sit me down again, and try to find
The cause of all these doubts that plague my mind.

Enter FLORO and LELIO.
LELIO.
We need no further go: these rocks alone
And branches that defy the sun's bright beams
Can witness our strife.

FLORO.
With words have done,
And draw your sword; mere talk but ill beseems
A place like this—although elsewhere it might.

LELIO.
The field is the place for the glitt'ring sight
Of the blade, I know it full well.

[They fight.
CIPRIANO.
Hold—stay!
Lelio, what means this? Floro, step aside.
Though all unarm'd, your swords I will divide.

LELIO.
How came you here, Cipriano, in my way
My vengeance to interrupt?

FLORO.
The offspring
Art thou of these hollow trees and these rocks?

Enter MOSCO and CLARIN.
MOSCO.
O Clarin, run, run; quick, assistance bring,
They're on our master, he's had such hard knocks.

CLARIN.
When I run, it's away from fighting folks.

BOTH.
Master—

CIPRIANO.
Be silent;—How is this? two friends,
By blood and name of Antioch the pride;
Two lives which might aspire to glorious ends,
Ye risk, and set your country's good aside?
The one, our most noble Governor's son,
The other, in whose noble veins do run
The blood of the Colalti? Oh, have done!

LELIO.
Cipriano, though my great respect for thee
Suspends my sword, it will not find repose
Within its scabbard. Thou art one who knows
More of books than duel laws—and dost not see
That when two nobles are met in the field,
There's no respect can break bright honour's rules;
And 'tis the law that one his breath do yield.

FLORO.
And so say I of men who live in schools.
I beg therefore you'll leave us with your men,
That we may draw, and set to work again.

CIPRIANO.
Deem not that books have caus'd me overlook
The code of honour, which all brave men know;
My birth has taught me no affront to brook;
And that books have not cow'd me I can shew.
Letters and arms have often been akin,
And oft in one their qualities unite.
Then if your cause of meeting was to fight,
Since you have fought full well—you both do win
Your honour back. But if, you will but say
Your quarrel's cause, and give me proof indeed
That one of you does satisfaction need,
I swear to leave you, and to go my way.

LELIO.
Well, since you promise make to let us fight
When you know the cause, I'll tell it outright.
I love a maiden—Floro loves her too;
What else then can two noble rivals do?
To come to terms I see no other way,
Then we must fight, and one the other slay.

FLORO.
That lady I do love, and I desire
The sun itself look not at her. 'Tis plain
We can't agree; then let us not again.
Your word you've pledg'd, and you must now retire.

CIPRIANO.
Hold yet awhile—I must know more—her name?
Have ye hopes, or is she all hopes beyond?

LELIO.
So noble and so spotless is her fame,
Floro need not fear the sun, though fond;
For the sun itself dare not look at her.

CIPRIANO.
Would'st marry her? for that's the chief matter.

FLORO.
There lie my hopes!

CIPRIANO.
Would'st thou too?

LELIO.
O heaven,
Would that so much bliss to me were given!
'Tis true she is a maiden passing poor,
But she can bring her virtue for her dower.

CIPRIANO.
Then since you both to gain her hand do aim,
Why expose her name and reputation,
By such behaviour rash? You're much to blame.
What would be said of one in her station,
If one she married, that the other slew
Because of her? She'd have the deed to rue.
But do not think that I do mean ye cease
To make your court at once, and try to please;
For I wish not on my account a thing
Be done that might the name of coward bring
Upon a suitor who would overlook
All rivalry, and then an insult took.
But which she favours, you must ascertain,
And then.—

LELIO.
Oh, say no more; for I maintain
It is an action mean, and most unfair
To ask the lady which she'd rather wed.
Floro it must be or me; then if there,
I have the luck, much more I'd have to dread,
Than I do now; since she, in love with me,
By another would be lov'd; if Floro she
Do choose—I'll rage my present rage above,
To see her whom I love, another love.
'Tis therefore useless saying she must choose
Which lover she will have, or which refuse.
Then let us again to the bright blade appeal,
The lover that's favour'd his honour to heal,
The lover rejected his vengeance to seal.

FLORO.
Methinks of certain easy ladies, this
Might spoken be—who would not take amiss,
If ask'd to take their choice or leave alone.
This very day, I'll ask her of her father,
And since I've drawn my sword, held back by one
Who would step in—why, Lelio, I'd much rather
Put it up again, though I came to fight.

LELIO.
Floro, I'm half inclin'd to think you're right;
And I'll make sure, and quick her father see.

CIPRIANO.
Since for this lady you do both confess
Pure love—than tell her name, you can't do less.
Besides, she hath virtue and honesty.
Ye know in Antioch I've influence.
To speak to her myself I promise make,
That she prepar'd may be to give sentence
To her father, which of the two she'll take.

LELIO.
Well, be it so.

CIPRIANO.
Who is she?

FLORO.
Justina;
Old Lysander's daughter.

CIPRIANO.
You don't mean her?
Oh, how stale your praises for such a name!
She is virtuous and of spotless fame.
I go forthwith to see her.

FLORO.
May heaven
Grant by the cruel girl some hope be given!

[Exit.
LELIO.
And when she hears my name, my hopes, O love,
With laurels crown!

[Exit.
CIPRIANO.
Oh, may heaven remove
All cause for evil talk, and heavy woes!

[Exit.
MOSCO.
Do you hear that? our master straightway goes
To Justina's house.

CLARIN.
Well, and if he does?

MOSCO.
What if, eh? why you've no business there.

CLARIN.
Why?

MOSCO.
Libia's her servant—and for her I die;
And I desire the sun dare not look at her.

CLARIN.
Oh, is that all? to me it is no matter
For fighting, and risking my precious life,
When I am sure the maid will be my wife.

MOSCO.
You reason well; then let her say her choice,
And which of us to have, she'll most rejoice.

CLARIN.
That's a good plan—though thee I fear she'll take.

MOSCO.
Think so, eh?

CLARIN.
Yes, for such Libias always make
Bad choices.

[Exeunt.
Enter JUSTINA and LYSANDER.
JUSTINA.
Oh, my lord, I have no solace
In seeing the blind and vulgar error,
Whereby are consecrated in this place
Yon altar and yon image; with terror
I behold the profanity. They say
'Tis a god; I make no doubt, that some day
It will a token give as such. The devil
Will give it life with his spirit of evil.

LYSANDER.
O fair Justina, if thou didst not deplore
This tragedy, this outrage gross upon Christ's faith,
Thou could'st not be thyself.

JUSTINA.
My sire truly saith;
I am thy daughter; but such would be no more,
If what I see to-day made me not weep.

LYSANDER.
O Justina, thou art not my daughter born.
Such bliss I own not:—why could I not keep,
O God, this secret? 'Twas from my bosom torn
By love for thee!

JUSTINA.
My lord, what is't you say?

LYSANDER.
I do not know: my sense are astray.

JUSTINA.
I've often heard my lord this language speak,
But did not wish, for fear of giving pain,
To sift your grief, nor moist with tears your cheek,
And always would from questioning refrain.
But since you oft repeat those words—impart.
My lord, what they do mean, to my sad heart,
For 'tis a tale thy bosom cannot hold.

LYSANDER.
Justina, this secret from thee I've hid,
For I did fear thy youth, and was not bold
To tell the tale, by love for thee forbid.
But now I see thee grown to woman's state,
Myself upon a staff, and at death's gate,
My conscience bids these things to hide no more.
Then list to all the ills that I deplore.

JUSTINA.
I'm awed with fear!

LYSANDER.
My heart is full of grief;
But I must speak.

JUSTINA.
My lord, I pray relief
From all my anxious doubts.

LYSANDER.
Justina, list;
I am Lysander; but marvel not if I
By my name begin—which well thou knowest
Is such. But my tale it will not satisfy
If I omit it; then Lysander am I:—
A native of that city, which on seven
Hills, is like unto a hydra made of stone,
That rears its seven heads; that city even,
Which is the Christian's hope and refuge alone.
For 'tis a name that none can claim, save Rome!—
Of humble parents born, 'twas my first home;
If humble may be said of those, who left
Behind a heritage of virtues. They
Both were Christians, whose sires were reft
Of life, which for their faith they gave away,
And gloried in their death. In Christian faith
I zealous grew; and I would welcome death
A thousand times in its defence. I still
Was young, when secretly did come to Rome,
The prudent Alexander, who did fill
The holy chair, though yet it had no home.
For since their thirst the cruel heathens slake,
With the blood which innocent martyrs shed;
As yet the Church of Christ doth hide its head.
Not that her sons do fear their lives to stake,
Or martyrs die; but lest our impious foe
Might all at once destroy at one fell blow;
And none remain, who the Gentile may shew,
And teach to comprehend the doctrine true.
I said to Rome Pope Alexander came;
In secret I did see him, and obtain'd
His blessing; and from his pious hands I gain'd
Those orders so holy, whose sacred name
The angels envy. The Pope did command
Me next for Antioch depart, to preach
Christ's Church in secret, and its doctrines teach.
I did obey, and to my native land
I bid adieu; and in my pilgrimage,
'Mongst tribes distinct in custom and in law,
I wander'd long, until at last I saw,
From yon high mountain's top, my journey's stage;
Proud Antioch's glitt'ring towers I had in view,
When sank the sun, that took with it the day,
But left the stars as pledge that he would shew
Himself ere long again. I lost my way,
And in those fastnesses I sadly stray'd,
Until I found myself within a grot,
Where the trembling beams of the stars had not
An entrance found. I resolution made
To stay until the sun again would rise.
And to my thoughts their full freedom giving,
I held communion with my fantasies.
I thus was rapt, when the gentle heaving
Of a groan with its echo caught mine ear.
I eagerly did list, and then drew near.
Distincter came the sound, though faint it was,
Like the mute speech of one who sorrow has;
For sighs are sorrow's best interpreter.
Those groans did from a woman's breast proceed;
And 'twas a voice of man that said to her
In half-chok'd words: “for that foul deed,
For that foul stain upon most noble blood,—
Perish by my hands, though 'tis death too good,
Ere on the scaffold thou do yield thy breath.”
In stifl'd words, the hapless woman said—
“Oh, pity take upon thy blood; to death
I am resign'd—for this alone I dread.”
I hasten'd then the cruel deed to stay;
But all too late; the words had died away.
And then I saw a man upon a steed
Amongst the hollow trees at fastest speed.
Like loadstone to my heart was that faint voice,
Which said, midst sobs and groans, most plaintively:
“A martyr I do die; and I rejoice
A Christian and a martyr's death to die.”
I follow'd quick to where my heart did tell
These words were spoke; and soon I reach'd the place.
I saw a female form, but not full well
To mark the hand of death upon her face.
Her arms outstretch'd, did struggling hard appear;
And of my presence scarce aware, she said:—
“O fell assassin, why art thou still near?
Canst thou not leave me here in peace to die?”
“I come,” I said, “perchance by Heaven sent,
To give you aid in your extremity.”
She faintly groan'd, “Since this your good intent
Can naught avail my life, which fast does flow,
Oh, on this child your piety bestow;
This child, to whom it is the will of Heaven,
My woes for an inheritance be given.”
She ceas'd to speak; and then......

Enter LIBIA.
LIBIA.
The trader, sir,
You owe money to, with the law is near
The house. But oh, my master need not stir!
I said you were not in, so do not fear.
But you can run through there. ...

JUSTINA.
How I bewail,
My lord, this interruption to a tale
That's froze my soul, my reason, and my life!
But go, my lord.

LYSANDER.
Oh, how with insults rife
Is hard necessity!

[Exit.
JUSTINA.
They come no doubt;
For I can hear their voices' sound without.

LIBIA.
Oh, it's all a mistake; Cipriano, 'tis.

JUSTINA.
What wants Cipriano here? What meaneth this?

Enter CIPRIANO, CLARIN, and MOSCO.
CIPRIANO.
My coming here, lady, is but to serve you;
For seeing near your house the law's blood-hounds,
My duty bade me from affront preserve you,
And keep those men within their proper bounds,
My friendship for your father, Lysander,
Was cause alone (oh, my sense wander!)
[Aside.
To see if I (oh, I'm a block of ice!)
[Aside.
Could be of any use with my advice.
(Alas!) 'twould be the height of my desire,—
(Oh, I was wrong, for I am all on fire!)

[Aside.
JUSTINA.
Long life may Heaven grant you; but my father,
Ere he receive your favours kind, would rather
Wait a cause more pressing.

CIPRIANO.
Your servant ever
I am (I never felt so shy—no never!)

[Aside.
JUSTINA.
Lysander is not within.

CIPRIANO.
Then I'll make bold;
And my cause of coming here I'll let you know.
Lady, it is not the motive I have told
That brings me to your presence.

JUSTINA.
Then what want you?

CIPRIANO.
Attentive be to me, and I'll be brief.
Justina fair, in whom the sweetest charms
That human nature boasts are met;—my chief
Desire is your bliss; though I feel alarms
For mine, and deem it hard, as time will shew,
That I should be the giver of your bliss,
And you should take from me my happiness.
Lelio, (whose love is pure as drifting snow,)
Floro, (whose love is honour's own esséence,)
Have been upon the point, for you, to slay
Each other; and but for my stern presence
Would have done it; but I did stop the fray
For you. But I was wrong from death to save
Those who will make you send me to my grave.
To stay the tongue of scandal I am here,
As their ambassador.—Would I were not!
Your choice would fall like death upon mine ear!
Then see how melancholy is my lot!
That I for both their loves should pleading make,
And you in me should jealousy awake.
In fine, I promise gave that I would ask
You, madam, which you choose (ungrateful task!)
May ask you of your father. (Oh, how sad!)
And this my object is, (Oh, I am mad!)
I speak for others, for myself I feel!

JUSTINA.
I cannot, sir, my indignation conceal
At your insolent proposal. You give
A check to both my reason and my speech;
And I can scarce your conduct's meaning reach.
I swear I never gave, as I do live,
Either to Floro or to Lelio cause,
That you should trample thus decorum's laws.
My contempt for them you may feel likewise.

CIPRIANO.
If you another love, and I aspire
To your heart, base would be my love, unwise
And mean. But 'tis because I do admire
To see a rock resist such stormy seas,
That I do love you. But I cannot share
In their disappointment.—It does not please
Me to lament for those who love-sick are.
To Lelio what shall I say?

JUSTINA.
His labour
Tell him for so many years he has lost.

CIPRIANO.
And Floro?

JUSTINA.
I don't wish to see him more.

CIPRIANO.
And me?

JUSTINA.
Speak to me of love at your cost.

CIPRIANO.
Why not, if 'tis a god?

JUSTINA.
Is it to you
A god then, more than to the other two?

CIPRIANO.
It is.

JUSTINA.
Then ye my answer have all three.

[Exeunt.
CLARIN.
Mistress Libia!

MOSCO.
Mistress Libia!

CLARIN.
Here we be.

LIBIA.
Well, what want ye? and you, what do you want?

CLARIN.
You must know, if yet you don't, that we can't
Help loving you—and would have had a fight;
But fearing scandal, we did think it right
And only fair to let you take your choice.

LIBIA.
This language, sirs, so great a sensation
Upon my heart has wrought, with grief my voice
Is mute. Oh, 'tis a sad situation!
I choose one? Alas! it will kill me straight.
Choose one? when I can take you both at once?
One sure ye cannot mean? Oh, cruel fate!

CLARIN.
You can't love both, to that you must renounce,
For surely would not two plague out your life?

LIBIA.
Not they; for we women by couples lead.

MOSCO.
How can that be? to both you can't be wife.

LIBIA.
I'd love you both I say; so peace, blockhead.

MOSCO.
How?

LIBIA.
Alternately.

CLARIN.
Eh! what does that mean?

LIBIA.
That turn about I'll love ye, each his day.

[Exit.
MOSCO.
Then I choose first, and lucky have I been.

CLARIN.
To-morrow's better; so take this you may.

MOSCO.
And so Libia, for whom I long have pin'd,
Loves me to-day, and to-day I love her!
But I deserve this joy, it strikes my mind.

CLARIN.
Hearken, Mosco; you know me, don't you, sir?

MOSCO.
Yes, but why?

CLARIN.
That she's not yours ye may know,
As sure as twelve it is the clock does shew.

[Exeunt.
Night. FLORO and LELIO at a distance from each other.
LELIO.
The pitchy night hath scarce her sable veil
Outspread, when I at this threshold appear,
The star to worship that's within its sphere.
What though to-day, Cipriano did prevail
My sword to stay? He hath not stay'd my love,
For lovers are forgetfulness above.

FLORO.
The dawn shall find me here; myself elsewhere
I'm not; for in another I do live.
O love, an answer send, or foul or fair;
And Cipriano, hope I pray thee give!

LELIO.
I heard a noise; 'twas at that window, sure.

FLORO.
I heard a noise at yonder window's door.

[MISALETHES appears on the balcony.
LELIO.
'Tis a man's form, her window coming out.

FLORO.
Though dark it be—it is a man, no doubt.

MISALETHES.
My plan is good; Justina shall be disfam'd,
And her virtue's loss be publicly proclaimed.

[He descends the steps of the balcony.
LELIO.
Oh, heavens! what is this mine eyes do see!

FLORO.
Oh, what is this I see? unhappy me!

LELIO.
He's leapt from the balcony to the ground!

FLORO.
A man coming from her room! Till I've found
Who 'tis, O jealousy, do not yet slay me!

LELIO.
This man I'll know, and I will make him pay me,
For robbing thus my bosom's sweetest treasure.

MISALETHES.
This day, not only will I have the pleasure
Of heaping contempt on the maiden's head,
But I will quarrels stir till some one's dead.
Now earth receive me, and confusion her!

[He disappears.
LELIO.
Whoe'er you be, I must know your name, sir;
And come what may, upon it I insist.
Say, who are you?

FLORO.
If your spite you can't resist,
Because your am'rous secret hath a witness;
I have a greater stake than you, and no less
Have curiosity to know who are you.
But you're inquisitive, and I am jealous;
But by the heavens, who's master here I'll know.
And who does make Justina so rebellious
To my love, and robs me of what has made me weep
At these rails, and made me such useless vigils keep.

LELIO.
Your jest is pleasant, sir, but does not blind me;
You blame me for a thing which is your own,
And I must know your name—or you will find my
Sword shall force ye straight to tell the name of one
Who's wrong'd me so, and kill'd me thus with jealousy.

FLORO.
Since love has shewn itself, we need not hidden be.

LELIO.
Then let the sword decide what words cannot.

[They fight.
FLORO.
Then with my sword, my answer you have got.

LELIO.
And now I'll know who is Justina's lover.

FLORO.
Kill me, if who you are I don't discover.

Enter CIPRIANO, MOSCO, and CLARIN.
CIPRIANO.
Hold gentlemen! put up your swords,
If I'm in time to put off harm.

FLORO.
Not I indeed; persuasive words
You use in vain to stop my arm.

CIPRIANO.
Floro!

FLORO.
Yes, Floro—with my blade
In hand, I ne'er deny my name.

CIPRIANO.
I am near you, then die who's made
This vile attack on thee; 'tis shame!

LELIO.
Ye all at once will cause less fear
Than I've receiv'd at Floro's hand.

CIPRIANO.
What, Lelio?

LELIO.
Yes.

CIPRIANO.
I won't come near;
Between ye both, I'll take my stand.
What means all this? twice in one day,
Must I step in and stop your fray?

LELIO.
It's over now, and we're agreed;
For now we know Justina's lord.
I have no hopes, since fate's decreed
It so, and I'll put up my sword.
Speak not, I pray, to Justina
Of my hopes and disappointment,
If already you've not seen her;
For I saw with what contentment
Floro did from her window leap;
And with a sad heart did witness
My loss, and Floro's happiness.
And since my love was pure and deep,
I'll not be base, since now reliev'd
From doubt, and by love undeceiv'd.

[Exit.
FLORO.
Stay!

CIPRIANO.
Follow not, but let him go.
(Heavens! his words have killed me;
[Aside.
I cannot stand this heavy blow!)
Since he has lost what thou didst gain,
You must not, Floro, willing be,
To add more pangs to his sad pain,
For he won't think on her again.

FLORO.
You both do madden me with grief
At once, with all this pleasant talk.
Speak not of her to me. Relief
I'll find in my revenge. What, balk
My hopes? But since I know the truth,
I'll cease to pay my court forsooth,
For I'm well bred and noble both.

[Exit.
Cipriano.
Did I hear right? Heavens, what meaneth this?
How strange! for jealousy they both have cause,
And I, because of both, am in distress?
They must mistaken be, and I must pause,
Ere I lament; my thanks they do deserve,
I say, since they do both their suit relinquish.
O my torments! this parley did but serve
To give ye solace sweet; and since you did wish
My steps should hither roam, I give ye thanks.
Ho there! Mosco, Clarin; my feathers bring
And sword forthwith. Now, Love, within thy ranks
Thy sprucest subject take. It's just the thing!
I've done with books, for books I can't endure;
Though books, I've always heard, are love's best cure.