University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—FREDERICK'S CHAMBER.
Enter FABIO.
FABIO.
He who found, perchance, the senses
Of a miserable valet,
Who has lost them for this reason,
That his master's wits first went,
(Proof—how valueless—how worthless
Were they to the natural owner,)
Let him come and own the fact:—
They will little serve the finder,
And the loser may reward:—
There is no one here to tell me,
Howsoe'er I ask or question:
But, the senses once departed,
Are they ever found again?—
If you have no great objection,
Let us, Memory, some moments,
You and I soliloquize:—
Is there any news?—I know not:—
What's the reason, at the time
When I seem to stand securest
In the favour of my lord,
That, with sudden fury striking,
He, two thousand blows should give me?
Why, the reason is—he's mad:—
And when I more guilty far
Fly his presence, with new dresses,
And caresses loads me then?
Memory, say, what means such conduct?
Why, it means that he is drunk:—
Two conclusive answers truly
To the questions I have put;
And a third I cannot wait for,
For I see Don Henry comes,
Speaking as they say, submissa
Voce; and if they desire,
Coming to this quiet chamber,
To conceal themselves from me,
I would wish to save them trouble
And conceal myself from them,
Partly that I wish to hear them,
Partly that, if he at times
So agreeable or angry—
Alternating with the wind;
When the angry fit approaches,
It is just as well to let it
Pass away, or waste its fury
On the wind from which it sprung.
All is lost if I can find not
Something quickly here, behind
Or beneath which I can hide me:
If this open buffet here
Is not high enough to let me
Underneath—there is nothing else.
Why delay? 'tis not so novel,
Since it is not the first time
That I have been buffeted.

Conceals himself under the buffet.
Enter FREDERICK and HENRY.
HENRY.
Why look round?

FREDERICK.
Lest some one hear us.

HENRY.
Do not fear, for all the servants
Have gone out of the house.

FABIO,
aside.
Not all:
There is one of them remaining.

FREDERICK.
To this uttermost apartment,
Not without a cause I bring thee,
Where there is no other witness.

FABIO,
aside.
True! a false one goes for naught.

HENRY.
Speak!

FREDERICK.
I first the door shall fasten!
And, since now, your highness, we
Are at last alone—the moment
Has arrived to speak out clear:—

FABIO,
aside.
Highness?—good!

HENRY.
On what compulsion,
For what reason, are you forced
Thus to treat me?

FREDERICK.
There are two:
Both of principal importance,
One for me, and one for you.
And yours is, that I have now
(Well I know, that you will pardon
Aught that seems in opposition
To my friendship, and excuse
What necessity imposes)
To reveal, and to inform you
That your rank and name are known
To Flerida, and 'tis useless
To affect a secret longer
Which is known to all the world,—
And mine is ......

HENRY.
Before you tell it,
Let me know what way Flerida
Came my secret to find out.

FREDERICK.
This is what I cannot fathom,
But I know she knows ......

FABIO,
aside.
Oh! hear him;
What a pimp my master is!

FREDERICK.
For it was herself that told me!

HENRY.
Let us pass then to the reason
Which is thine, for as to mine,
I shall venture to continue
My disguise until she speaks.

FREDERICK.
Then in what I have to tell thee,
Pledge to me your princely word,
Pledge me as thou art, that buried
Thou wilt keep it in thy breast.

HENRY.
Yes, I do so; and I promise
That what thou dost stamp in wax,
I shall ever hold in marble.

FREDERICK.
Noble Henry de Gonzaga—
Mantua's proud, illustrious duke—
You have been informed already
I, a beauteous lady love.
Well, this prodigy of nature—
Well, this magic gift of Heaven—
This most beautiful of wonders—
This amazement's sweetest cause—
Has to-day, o'er frights and terrors,
The impossible effecting,
Triumphed over fate itself,
And from out the combat gathered
Two immortal garlands blent
Of her faith and my good fortune;
And this letter, which a zephyr
Doubtless gave into my hands,
Since, in order to have reached them
From her elevated heaven
To my deep despair's abysses—
As the warrant of my freedom—
It must have, descending, flown.
But I badly so express it,
Since it rather is the warrant
Of my slavery: for it
Doth contain the happy contract
Which will make me live for ever
An unchanging love's sure slave;
Whose close-link'd and fastened fetters,
Not the silent file of Time
Will be able to dissever.
It says then ...... But it will better
Be its own clear exposition
Of the truth with which she writes,
And the faith with which I worship:—
Reads.
“My master, my dear lord and love,
Fortune doth declare against us
Every moment more and more,—
Let us intercept her footsteps:—
Have then ready about midnight
Two fleet horses near the portal
Which looks out upon the bridge
That divides the park and palace;
I will come forth at your signal,
And from jealousy escaping,
Fly, if it can e'er be fled from:—
So farewell,—and may God guard your
Precious life a thousand years.”
[Resumes.
Thus she writes, and so I trust me,
Mighty lord, to thy assistance,
Since I know my zeal to serve thee
May claim so much as a debt:
If, to serve your love, in Parma
You my humble aid accepted,
And if I, to thee confiding,
Ask thy service now in turn:
It is clear that I recover
All the former debt you owe me,
And that I repay thee also
All the debt that I incur:—
Give me, then, my lord, some letters
Unto Mantua; and here
Use thy powerful intercession
In defending me, until
I this lady place in safety.

HENRY.
I so thankful am to Heaven,
That it gives me an occasion
To repay your friendly service
With my services: that I
Shall not only grant the favour
That you ask, but shall be proud,
Happy, and delighted also,
To accompany you myself,—
Until you have gained the frontier
Of my territory, where
You shall meet with every honour.

FREDERICK.
No, my lord, with your permission,
I will go alone: much more
Can you aid me here in Parma,
If you will protect my fame:—
Here a safeguard and defender,
There your word will be enough.

HENRY.
I in all things will obey you.

FREDERICK.
Write the letters, while I go
To the palace to dissemble,
By my zeal and my attention,
What I mean to do this night,—
And to find that devil Fabio,
Whom I have not seen all day.

FABIO,
aside.
Then you haven't far to seek him.

FREDERICK.
Though he's not to know the cause,

FABIO,
aside.
Oh! of course.

FREDERICK.
That he the horses
May have ready, as I said.

HENRY.
You are right, and I remaining
Shall endeavour to fulfil
What my evil fate may order.

FREDERICK.
Here I shall return to seek you.

HENRY.
Writing, shall I wait thee here?

FREDERICK.
Love! assist me with thy favour.

HENRY.
Love! take pity on my grief.

[Exeunt.
FABIO,
coming forth.
He who listens, seldom heareth
Any good, the adage says;—
But a proverb sometimes lieth,
As I've heard what's very good:—
As from listening, I have gained
Four important bits of knowledge.
First—I know the stranger's name;
Second—the exact condition
Of my master's love at last;—
Third—the news that I am bursting
Now to tell unto Flerida;—
And the fourth—some new reward.

Exit.