University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

—THE STREET BEFORE FABIO'S HOUSE—NIGHT.
Enter the DUKE, ENRICO, PONLEVI, and a MUSICIAN.
DUKE.
There is no power to which love will submit.

ENRICO.
One thing alone can make love do it.

DUKE.
And what is that?

ENRICO.
The will to subdue it;
So Garcilaso, my lord, hath writ.

DUKE.
Then 'twas a false conceit of wit;
For that can have but the same effect
As forgetfulness, which men select
As a cure for ills that are past recall,
And which for love is no cure at all;
Some other remedy recollect.

ENRICO.
This, notwithstanding, the way must be
Of him who would save his heart from ruin.
Yes, the beginning of love's subduing
Is the desire of victory,—
For how is it possible that he
Can love the thing that he would forget?
Thus the first obstacle is met;—
That being conquer'd, the difficulty
Is not in getting the victory,
But in the earnest wish to get.

DUKE.
Well, it may be so; let me know
How you have sped with Nise, though.

ENRICO.
Badly she heard my proffer'd love,
(Ah! it is true, my death she'll prove!)
[Aside.
And since the return of Fabio,
Such strictness reigns in the house, that no
Chance is there now of getting nigh her.

DUKE.
Still persevere, until the fire
Is totally quench'd that burns me so,—
For if my suspicion could only know
The truth it aims at, I would be
Sure of obtaining the victory
Over love, as in that case
I would wish to subdue him.

ENRICO.
Your grace
It is an affair of difficulty.

DUKE.
Fabio I know is most austere.

ENRICO.
Hush! For now methinks I hear
In the balcony yonder some low voices.

DUKE.
And here again are some other noises;
Let us, Enrico, draw more near.

[CHLORIS and NISE appear at one window, LISIDA and CELIA at another.
ENRICO.
How, my lord, shall it clearly appear
Which of the windows doth Chloris prefer,
That you may try to speak to her?

DUKE.
Let us divide, and take separate stations,
Thus we can make our observations,
And on the results with each other confer.

ENRICO.
'Tis an excellent plan, and so I take
My position here.

DUKE.
And I shall pay
The closest attention from this:—But stay,
For hark! through the night's dark stillness break
Sweet sounds, that tell us they mean to awake
The notes of a harp.

CHLORIS,
to NISE.
Dear Nise, thou'lt be
The wish'd for syren of love's wild sea,
If my pain thou'lt alleviate.

LISIDA,
to CELIA.
Sing, Celia, and mitigate
The fatal disease that killeth me.

ENRICO,
to the DUKE.
Lest, perchance, your grace should express
A wish to embark on this mimic sea,
I have brought this musician with me:
If they sing, shall he sing too?

DUKE.
Yes.

PONLEVI.
I, too, won't have power to repress
My voice from responding to thy pain.

ENRICO.
Sing then, and perchance thy strain
To a milder mood the heavens may move.

DUKE,
to the MUSICIAN.
Sing to me the praises of love.

LISIDA,
to CELIA.
Sing to me of jealousy's pain.

CHLORIS,
to NISE.
Sing to me the praises of sadness.

ENRICO,
to PONLEVI.
Sing to me the praises of joy;
That the sun may know he cannot destroy,
Even by his absence, beauty and gladness.

THE MUSICIAN
sings.
Love, Love, then rulest above
Kingdoms and laws and powerfullest things;
Weak to thine is the sceptre of kings,—
The only potent monarch is Love!

CELIA
sings.
Jealousy, why to thee is given
This name reproachfully! since the jealous
But for one letter would be the zealous—
And only the zealous reach to Heaven!

PONLEVI
sings.
Who, O Fortune, with longing sighs
Will at thy heedless altar kneel?
Oh! paint with wings thy fickle wheel,
Since swifter far than it rolls, it flies.

NISE
sings.
Reason, Reason, tell me, I pray,
How long shall conquering love be thy master?
If pleasure, in coming, will not travel faster,
Why shouldst thou fly so swiftly away?

DUKE,
to the MUSICIAN.
Let no interruption come near thee.

LISIDA,
to CELIA.
Cease not from the melody, no,—

ENRICO,
to PONLEVI.
Oh! continue and speak my woe.

CHLORIS,
to NISE.
Sing more; 'tis a joy to hear thee.

MUSICIAN
sings.
Has fate some favour still concealed?

CELIA
sings.
Has hope some blessing rich and strange?

PONLEVI
sings.
Can thus my sorrows have some change?

NISE
sings.
Can love's deep heart-wounds then be healed?

DUKE.
Sing, although their songs excel.

LISIDA.
Be not silent, although they sing.

ENRICO.
Sing,—your words some solace bring.

CHLORIS.
Do not cease, since you sing well.

ALL
sing.
Reason, fortune, jealousy, love,
Are passions that vary,
Reason faileth through time
And fortune grows weary,—
Love is a fire which jealousy kindles,
Pleasure groweth fatigued,
And passion dwindles.

DUKE
coming to the window, in which are CHLORIS and NISE.
Now that on the silent zephyr
Gently dies your voice, fair Nise,
Let it take thee, for my hope's sake,
On my part an humble message.

CHLORIS,
aside to NISE.
'Tis the duke, say not I'm with thee,
That he may not now address me.

NISE.
No, my lord, let not your highness
Trust your hopes to such a medium,
For within a fond heart's centre
Is enshrined your worshipped image.

DUKE.
If the lady who is with thee
Would say this, beyond expression
Were my happiness.

NISE.
I doubt it,
As the person who deceives you
Is but one of my attendants.

DUKE.
Is it so?—then bid her say so.

NISE.
She is dumb and speaks no language.

DUKE.
'Tis love's language that she knows not.

LISIDA,
to ENRICO.
Badly do these fond expressions
Harmonize with fickle actions.

ENRICO.
Rightly do these words' warm accents
Come to aid as true devotion.

LISIDA.
What my eyes behold, they credit.

ENRICO.
Glasses dim the vision sometimes?

LISIDA.
No, it is impossible,
If the crystals are but perfect.

ENRICO.
The most perfect oft deceive.

DUKE.
I shall come again, await me,
I must see who this is yonder:—
[He comes and speaks aside to ENRICO.
Hark! Enrico.

ENRICO.
Please your highness:—

DUKE.
Firm is Chloris in her rigour,
Since she will not even acknowledge
That she is with Nise.

ENRICO.
Well,
What do you wish, my lord?

DUKE.
That you
Pass unto the other window;
And as equal objects brought us
Two together here this night,
(You perchance to speak with Nise,
Or with Chloris I,) and now
One of these has been frustrated,
Let us not be balked in both;—
There she is; advance, thou knowest
That on this my life depends.

ENRICO.
Such an incident to happen!

CHLORIS comes to LISIDA'S window.
CHLORIS.
Lisida!

LISIDA.
Your pleasure, sister?

CHLORIS.
Yonder is the duke, attempting
Every means to recognise me;
He beheld two forms, to hinder
Him from knowing I was one,—
I entreat you to go thither.

LISIDA.
If you hither come to know
Who is with me, I am happy
To afford that satisfaction;
'Tis Enrico, and I go
That you may speak with him.

CHLORIS.
No.

LISIDA.
I shall go: [aside]
But 'tis that I
Thus can make new observations;
Let us see now which deceive me—
Natural eyes, or crystal glasses.

PONLEVI.
In this night of roundelays,
Sighs and songs and amorous speeches,
I have none to speak to: so,
While the rest converse in couples,
I shall ask Don Monsieur Morpheus
For his company awhile.

[Stretches himself to sleep.
OCTAVIO enters, and remains where PONLEVI had been standing.
OCTAVIO,
aside.
If the man who feeleth one jealousy
Cannot possibly be at rest,
He who nourisheth two, how can he
Be secure a moment of time?

DUKE,
to ENRICO.
Come then.

ENRICO,
aside.
That to this should compel me,
One whose power doth equal his love.

DUKE.
Why do you wait?

ENRICO.
A man is yonder.

DUKE.
That, by no means, need give you alarm,—
It is Ponlevi: he has been waiting
There all along in secret.

ENRICO,
aside.
Heavens!
Grant me now some words of dissembling,
That I may a goddess deceive.

CHLORIS.
Thanks be to Heaven! that now I am free from
The pain of hearing the duke's complaints.

DUKE.
No, you must hear them; still will he seek you
Wherever you are.

CHLORIS,
aside.
What a singular chance!
Heavens! from his suit I wish'd to withdraw me,
And lo! I have fallen into his hands.
Now, of necessity, I must speak to him.

ENRICO,
aside.
I am here a little assured,
Seeing that Lisida cannot possibly
Hear my words, as she with the duke
Now doth speak at the other window:—
Most beautiful Nise......

[Aloud.
OCTAVIO,
aside.
Does he say
Nise?

ENRICO.
Since your voice of ravishment
Seemeth the loadstone of all that lives,
Drawing hither unto this threshold
Wondering wild beasts out of the rocks,
Beautiful birds from amid the flowers,
Give occasion still for the thought
That your dulcet singing allures one
Here to die of its poisoned sweets,
Which the cup of the night-air holds.

LISIDA,
aside.
What is this, O Heavens! that I hear?
Ah! has he hither come to seek me,
That thus he might lose me once for all?

OCTAVIO,
aside.
O faithless friend! and O thou lover,
So lost to gratitude! As Heaven lives,
Nought but his life can this atone for.

[Exit.
ENRICO.
If you wish to know if my sufferings
Are really felt, quite easy the proof.

LISIDA.
Not so easy, because I am certain
That no hour of your life, Enrico,
Is with the others perfectly true,—
See if the crystals now mislead me.

ENRICO.
Lisida!......

LISIDA.
Say not another word.

ENRICO.
As the Heavens live!......

LISIDA.
Attempt no vain effort
At giving me satisfaction again;
Do not see me, do not speak to me.

[LISIDA and NISE leave the window.
ENRICO.
Hear! listen!..... but what do I see?
The gate of the garden some one opens:—
My lord!

DUKE.
What now?

ENRICO.
I see a man
Coming here from the house of Fabio.

CHLORIS.
It is my father; go, my lord,
Out of the street before he sees you.

[CHLORIS and CELIA also retire.
DUKE.
It is Fabio, let us go;
Conceal thy face in thy cloak, Enrico;
Me he will know not.

ENRICO.
What avails
All concealments and dark disguises,
When the day will bring to light
What the treacherous night concealeth?

[Exeunt.
Enter FABIO.
FABIO.
Home! how badly you receive me!
On the very day I come
To your threshold, must I meet with,
First of all, my griefs and cares?—
A suspicion of Enrico's
Aim on Chloris, that I had
Ere he went to Spain, has brought me
Swiftly hither from Milan,
To be certain, if he causes
Public scandals such as these;
They have seen me and departed
Those who so disturbed the street;
Who they are I must discover.

[Stumbles over PONLEVI.
PONLEVI.
Who's that?

FABIO.
Who's this?

PONLEVI.
'Tis now very late,
And so I beg of you, my good master,
To cut short your nonsensical talk
With Mesdames Lisida, Nise, and Chloris,
And let us go.

FABIO.
That I may have first
An opportunity to despatch you.

PONLEVI.
Oh! Heavens! what a grandfather's beard!
What sudden terror in half a moment
Has bearded you thus to such a length?

FABIO.
Say, to whom dost thou act as a servant?

PONLEVI.
'Tis an easy thing to tell his name:
To Enrico.

FABIO.
And this Enrico,
Which of those three ladies doth love?

PONLEVI.
He loves them all.

FABIO.
This man is a simpleton;
Which does he court?

PONLEVI.
He courts them all.

FABIO.
Tell me of which he is the suitor?

PONLEVI.
Of all, and it tires him not in the least.
Not one of them all can he resign;
Being, as it were, a triple-faced lover,
Past, present, and the future, in one.

FABIO.
That I do not kill thee, is owing
To your being beneath my wrath;
It were a wrong to my sword to stain it
With the pollution of such base blood.

PONLEVI.
Base blood is a lucky distinction
Now and then.

FABIO.
Hence! fellow, away—
Quick!

PONLEVI.
Yes, with the greatest pleasure.

[Exit.
FABIO.
Enrico, building upon the favour
Of the duke, thus ventures to bring
These public scandals upon mine honour,
Unworthily:—and since the thought
That before his departure was only
Mere suspicion has now become
A matter certain beyond all question,
Let me devise some remedy.
Two methods are there in such a serious
Conjunction of grief: prudence is one,
And valour the other: upon the former
Let me in the first instance rely:—
I shall go to the duke, to complain me
Of this outrage; if that doth fail,
Then I must appeal to my valour.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

—A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
Enter OCTAVIO and ENRICO.
OCTAVIO.
Here, Enrico, I have sought thee.

ENRICO.
Well, my friend, your wishes say:—

OCTAVIO.
Give me not that name, I pray,
Since thou'rt not what once I thought thee;
'Tis no friend who courts and kills
And wounds you most when most confiding,
Like the ungrateful serpent gliding
Into the breast, where it distils
Its poison, beyond all prevention:—
To thee no more this name hath clung,
Since you flatter with the tongue,
And you kill with the intention.

ENRICO.
My truth I deign not to defend,
Heaven be the witness! Earth the judge!
Besides, you know we must not grudge
The first suspicion to a friend:—
Methought my friendship might have reckon'd
On this indulgence, that it durst
Answer you thus: we've pass'd the first—
Let us not go to seek the second.

OCTAVIO.
Yes, we must do so: since, unmoved
By all my heart to thee outpoured,
Telling you how I Nise adored,
Telling you how I Nise loved;—
You, perfidious, your love durst break to her,
You, ungrateful, your homage pay,
You to her send letters by day,
And at night, you dare to speak to her!

ENRICO.
Octavio, I cannot deny
What you say and what you discerned,
What you heard or what you have learned,
Still I cannot give a reply
Which an apology might appear,
Or the faintest wish to excuse;
But I cannot permit you use
Reasons which only are too clear;
Thus with justice I come to be
Offended in turn, since if you know
The reasons why you address me so,
I know those that influence me:—
My friendship this replies, since we
Speak in the palace of his grace.

OCTAVIO.
Then name, Enrico, name the place
Where our dispute may be more free.

ENRICO.
Then be it.....

Enter the DUKE and PONLEVI.
DUKE.
What is this?

ENRICO.
'Tis nought,
My lord.

DUKE,
aside.
The two with troubled air
Appear confused; their looks of care
Show that my love this strife hath wrought:
I must prevent the consequence.
Octavio!

OCTAVIO.
Can I serve your grace?

DUKE.
Be good enough the desk to place,
And bring the writing implements:—
You can retire until we call!

OCTAVIO,
aside to ENRICO.
Where shall we end our affair, we two?

ENRICO.
Where, I shall let thee know.

OCTAVIO.
Adieu.

[Exit.
ENRICO,
to PONLEVI.
You can await me in the hall.

[Exit PONLEVI.
DUKE.
Enrico, what is this about?

ENRICO.
A loss, my gracious lord, which has been
The greater from its being foreseen
To be inevitable.

DUKE.
Has he found out
The affair so quickly? But my mission
Must be to make you friends again.

ENRICO.
Ah! no, my lord, in honour's pain
Nor power nor rank is the best physician.

Enter FABIO.
FABIO,
aside.
Enrico with him, so much the better!—
Can you allow me an audience, sire?

DUKE.
Yes: Enrico, do thou retire.

ENRICO,
aside.
Now to write Octavio's letter.

[Exit.
FABIO.
Since my griefs I cannot control,
But calmly and sadly the thoughts arise,
Would that the tears that flow from my eyes
Were the tongues of my very soul!

DUKE,
aside.
My troubles I see are not all past:—
What is the matter, Fabio?

FABIO.
Why,
Anguish, my lord, and honour have I,
And I weep because of the last:
A cruel burden beareth about it
The soul to which Fortune honour gives;
He cannot live happily he who lives
Either with honour, or yet without it.—
I have two daughters, my lord.

DUKE,
aside.
No doubt
Can now remain; good heavens! that he
Cometh here to complain of me
Even to myself, having found out
My love for Chloris:—Yes, I know
[Aloud.
That honour the brightest and most pure
In either beauty may be secure,
And your confidence speaketh so.

FABIO.
Not so much, but some power may leave
A shade on this boasted brightness yet.

DUKE,
aside.
He speaks more plainly:— [aloud]
Do not let,
Fabio, your generous heart believe
Too easily what may doubtful appear.

FABIO.
I am not, my lord, so indiscreet
As to approach your grace's feet
Badly informed, as you shall hear:—
Enrico, using the friendly relations
He is on with you, as wings to near
A brighter and more ambitious sphere,
Insults with foolish manifestations
Of love my house.

DUKE,
aside.
I breathe more free:
Although the blame that to him is given
Does not prove that I am forgiven;—
Since I am in fault as well as he.

FABIO.
And so I ask your grace, that you
Diminish this evil.

DUKE.
Passion-warmed,
You hither come, and badly informed,
For I myself am certain you do
Enrico wrong, being aware,
The lady to whom he doth pretend
Cannot injure you, nor offend.

FABIO.
Again, my lord, I have to declare,
Not blindly in this matter I grope,
Since I know, ere he went to Spain,
Chloris was the cause of his pain—
The beautiful sky that bound his hope:—
Since I know, from his embassy
Having returned, he still doth pay
His obstinate suit—for by night and day
The Argus of my house is he;
Can any misconception follow from thence?
Is not, my lord, the evidence clear?
Does my honour no outrage fear
On such undoubted evidence?

DUKE.
What did you say?

FABIO.
That he pays court
To Chloris.

DUKE,
aside.
Ah! my heart, what woe!—
And before he went to Spain?

FABIO.
'Tis so.

DUKE,
aside.
What do I hear? O heavens!

FABIO.
In short,
As he, my lord, I have little doubt,
With Chloris holds a higher place,
From his great favour with your grace,
You must his marriage bring about:—
Or having, at so great a cost,
Thus tried my anger to allay,
I must attempt some other way
To find my honour that is lost.

DUKE,
aside.
Oh! what poison these replies—
Oh! what darkness this eclipse—
Make me drink without my lips?
Makes me see without my eyes?
Let me recall the day aright
Of his return—my drive, and where—
Yes, 'twas the park—I found him there—
And how she avoided me that night;
Then came the question, light and gay,
Of the scarf and flower, which rank'd above
The other? Oh! what memory, love,
Dost thou possess? Thou need'st not say
That since then she wrote to be
Excused receiving my respects—
The cause is proven by the effects,
That his coming banish'd me.

FABIO.
Does justice then so little owe
Unto my wrong, my bitter pain—
That one word you do not deign
To give me in reply?

DUKE.
Oh! no—
No, Fabio, it is because
Words cannot answer your appeal—
And I can yet do naught but feel.

FABIO.
Then to my birthright—valour's laws—
Must I appeal in my distress:—

Enter ENRICO and PONLEVI; they converse apart.
ENRICO.
You are to seek Octavio,
And to give him this letter; go.

PONLEVI.
Octavio did you say, sir?

ENRICO.
Yes.

DUKE,
aside.
Enrico, here!—I scarce can smother
My wrath, or trust myself to stay,
This is no place to do or say—
Pass then from one extreme to the other,
My grief.

ENRICO.
Your grace seems somewhat heated,
And full of anger—what is the reason?

DUKE.
I shall tell you in good season.

[Exit.
PONLEVI.
This is a pretty way we are treated.

ENRICO.
Fabio, can you explain this?

FABIO.
No,
I understand it not—if I could
Explain it to myself I would;
But as it is, I do not know.

[Exit.
PONLEVI.
I told you that you should not love
Chloris, in that desperate way,
And that it would some future day
To you a source of sorrow prove;
But Octavio passes yonder,
I shall make no more delays.

[Exit with the letter.
ENRICO.
Ah! through what a cruel maze
Of entanglement I wander!

Enter CELIA, veiled.
CELIA.
Till I found him, have I enter'd
Treading soft with leaden footsteps,
Not to say that they are woollen,—
Hist!

ENRICO.
Is it I?

CELIA.
Yes.

ENRICO.
Then I hear you.

CELIA.
My Señora......

ENRICO.
O my Celia!

CELIA.
Sends you this.

[Hands him a letter.
ENRICO.
I feel most happy,
Though, perchance, in it should come
Anger, anguish, and resentment,
For the person who remembers,
Even to chide, cannot forget us;
[Reads.

“One revenge must my wrongs obtain, and that
is an opportunity of telling them. Repair immediately
to the public walk; I shall meet you at the
country-seat of the duke, where you may hear
them, and I can speak them.”

[Resumes aside.
The very hour and situation,
That I have mentioned to Octavio,
Has Lisida for me appointed;
Since I wrote to him to meet me
In the grove beside the villa:—
I am once again bewildered.
Shall I send her an excuse?
No, it would but add another
New suspicion. It is better
That I may not be the hindrance
Of my fortune, there to meet her,
And however ends the matter,
Whether good or ill, I reckon
On a full, free exculpation;—
Say to Lisida, my Celia,
[Aloud.
I am eager to obey her.

Enter PONLEVI.
PONLEVI,
aside.
As an answer to the letter
Which but now I brought Octavio,
I bring this, which at my entrance
Here, was given me by a stranger;—
But who's here?—Is not this damsel
Beauteous Celia, whom I worship?

CELIA
to ENRICO.
I shall tell her so.

[Going.
ENRICO.
Hark! Celia.

CELIA.
What are your wishes?

ENRICO.
Wait a little:
The duke, 'tis plain, is disappointed
[Aside.
With me, or has grown suspicious,
That I have not yet discover'd
The hidden love-designs of Chloris—
Now perhaps the secret casket
I with golden key may open,
Since the occasion is propitious.
Celia of my eyes, my Celia,
[Aloud.
In thy hand my life is lying—
My enjoyment, my heart's quiet—
All I have and all I value
At thy feet to-day I offer.

CELIA.
Why with such exaggeration
Thus address me?

PONLEVI,
aside.
Am I dreaming?—
Flattering speeches too to Celia!—
This the only thing was wanting
To his being now in love with
All the family of Fabio.

CELIA.
I am ignorant what you aim at.

ENRICO.
Take this diamond—sparkling offspring
Of the sun—Apollo's radiance,
Though a stone.

CELIA.
I only take it,
Not to seem, Señor, uncivil.

PONLEVI,
aside.
Uncivil! O ungrateful Celia!
Why you're more so than a monkey;
You should not take it then.

ENRICO.
Thou Celia,
To end the matter, art the mistress
Of my life.

CELIA.
Then be it known to you
I am thine.

PONLEVI,
aside.
And I am furious!
Thine she says—that I should see this!—
Thine she says—that I should hear this!—
I shall kill him—ah! but no—
For he is my lord,—how doubtful
Do I stand 'twixt love and honour—
Here a fool, and there a madman.

ENRICO.
Tell me, Celia, since the house-thief
Prieth everywhere, 'tis needful
Nothing can from you be hidden
That is in it......

PONLEVI.
Nor you either.

ENRICO.
Who is speaking there?

PONLEVI.
Your servant.

ENRICO.
Wait then farther off.

PONLEVI.
How pleasant!

[They speak in a low tone of voice, PONLEVI standing apart.
ENRICO.
Who pays court to Chloris, tell me,
Who is he the happy lover
That doth merit her, for whom
She disdains the duke? And, Celia,
If through thee I reach this knowledge......

CELIA.
Say no more,—to all I answer
Only this, that I am handmaid
Unto Lisida—and sorry
Am I, that from her I brought you
On her part, that amorous letter;
That for jealousies some other
Consolation you should look for:—
What a fair atonement!

[Exit.
ENRICO.
Hear me!
What ridiculous punctilio!
Even a waiting-maid I'm destined
To make jealous!

PONLEVI.
Ay, and me too,
Ay, and every man, I'm thinking,
On the earth. Great king of the Romans,
Treacherous and unrighteous master—
False, promiscuous, and pursuing
High and low, tag-rag and bobtail—
Is it thus to a loyal valet
That you break the faith and duty
That you owe him? Was it, tell me,
With this object (Heavens! I'm choking!)
That I told you, I loved Celia?
That I said I Celia worshipped?

ENRICO.
As I live, by heavens! you rascal
From the sharp point to the pummel
Of this sword......

PONLEVI.
Now do not swear so,—
For the affair is too transparent;
With my very ears I've heard it—
With my very eyes I've seen it.

ENRICO.
I shall make thy heart's blood bathe thee
In a false bright red enamel,
If you cease not.

PONLEVI.
Can the jealous
Then be silent, how? why? wherefore?

ENRICO.
Human patience ne'er was tempted
In this manner!

PONLEVI.
In this manner
Were our women ever tempted?

ENRICO.
Leave my presence, idiot, madman.

PONLEVI.
Yes, when I relate my mission.
I thy letter gave Octavio,
Which he took; on coming hither,
In the hall a servant gave me
This, to you to be delivered.

[Gives a letter and exit.
ENRICO.

[Reads]
“I did not say when I spoke to you,
that my determination was taken to refuse hearing
your explanations; and because in the field they
cannot be given, I await you behind the pleasure-house
of the duke. I desire to speak with you
beside the rivulet that divides it from the wood.
God guard thee!—Fabio.”

Oh! that Fortune thus should conjure
Up against one wretched being
Such a concourse of misfortunes!
Let me just enumerate them.
Where I'm bound to meet Octavio
Is the thicket of the duke;
Lisida appoints the villa,
Fabio the rapid streamlet
Which in this place separateth
The same building from some elms.—
Now 'tis plain I must be deaf to
Lisida's dear letter—Love
Must descend his throne, for Honour
There to rule with sovereign sway—
I Octavio cite, and Fabio
Citeth me, both one and the other
At one time and for one quarrel.
If the one doth bravely wait me,
I as bravely wait the other—
Which dilemma is the stronger,
To meet him whom I have challenged
Or who challenged me? The two
Have their force—for in all questions
Of this nice and delicate nature,
Honour has its paradoxes,
Which the duel, skilled in settling
Differences, must reconcile:
Since an equal right it giveth,
That which is for me occasion'd—
And that which I myself occasion:—
To meet him whom I have summon'd,
Is to satisfy my own wrong—
Him who summons me, another's:—
But this is a false deduction;
For another's wrong that summons
Me to answer, is my own:—
In the one case, the same reason
Which I have, because the duel
Is by me originated,
Is against me in the other:—
To fail him whom I have challenged,
Is to leave a grave suspicion
That I could my promise break:—
For he'll seek the place of meeting
On the faith of that. As little
Can I fail to meet the other,
Since, relying on my honour,
He awaits me; so that neither
One nor the other can I turn from,
Since if I cannot attend to
Even the challenge of two pleasures,
Tell me, Fortune, can I listen
Unto the call of two such griefs?
How can it be, that terror doeth,
Every hindrance falsifying,
What even pleasure fails to do?
In the eye of reason, doubtless,
Both complain without a cause,
They of Nise and of Chloris
Mutually complain, while I
Neither worship lovely Chloris
Nor fair Nise do I love;—
Who will e'er believe, O Heavens!
That 'twere possible, that I,
So enamour'd, so devoted,
Can two other men make jealous
About ladies that I love not,
And not one, 'bout her I love?—
Well, to have at least this solace!
And for this one gleam of rapture
I, my evil fortune pardon
All its other forms of woe,
Though I notice at one moment,
Fabio's anger undeceives me,
That Octavio speaks revilings,
That the duke, grown discontented,
Doubts my faith and flies my presence,—
That fair Chloris now is weeping
Tears that flow from old illusions—
That poor Nise feels indignant
At the mockery of my wooing—
That my Lisida herself,
Mourning needlessly, intrusteth
Her belief to seeming truth—
That reproachfully speaks Celia—
And that even a fool, a madman
Must be jealous even of her!—
All of which, I tell thee, Fortune,
Without anger I forgive,
And still more, that these my musings,
Even by sifting, find a way,
By which, full of cheerful daring,
I both challenges may meet:—
This indeed is much to promise,
But I feel it may be done;—
Would, O gracious Heaven! to-day
It were done, for then were over
Anger, vengeances, vexations,
Insults, injuries, distractions,
Rage, revilings, and offences,
Complaints, resentments, and confusions,
Shadows, dreamings, and surmises,
Strange illusions and caprices,
And jealousy which means all these.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

—A WOOD.
Enter FABIO.
FABIO.
Let this shady thicket be
The appropriate theatre of my destiny.
The duke shall know, it doth belong
To Fabio's self, to satisfy his wrong
Without him. Here Enrico I shall fight,
Armed not with steel, but with my sense of right:
A rustling sound from yonder point comes near,
Yes 'tis two women who are walking here,
About this seat, where Nature doth display
April's young charms and all the sweets of May.

Enter ENRICO.
ENRICO.
Pardon, if I have delayed.

FABIO.
Death ne'er delays,
Not even from him who looks with longing gaze
For his approach; yes, here, some time beneath
This tree, I have waited, to......

ENRICO.
Your sword still sheath;
This place is far too public here, and so
Let us go deeper into the thicket.

FABIO.
Let us go.

[They enter.

SCENE IV.

—ANOTHER PART OF THE WOOD.
Enter OCTAVIO.
OCTAVIO.
Let no one say that any act can show
More courage or more valour, than the slow
Approach of an antagonist, to wait,
I do not say to fight, that hath a double fate,
But to await him, this doth bring to light
More certain steady valour than to fight:—
People approach; Enrico 'tis—and Fabio
Is with him.

Enter ENRICO and FABIO.
FABIO,
aside.
As I live, it is Octavio!
Enrico's friend; why this must be
An ambuscade,—O traitor!

OCTAVIO,
aside.
O false enemy!
I, here alone, Enrico had expected
[Aloud.
To meet you......

FABIO.
Here alone, and unprotected.

OCTAVIO.
And not with Fabio at thy side.

FABIO.
And not by Octavio accompanied.

OCTAVIO.
Well, even to meet you two I am not loth.

FABIO.
Well, should you wish it, even to meet you both,
Courage enough have I.

OCTAVIO.
And I the same!

ENRICO.
Hear me, and you shall learn that here alone I came.
I wrote to you that in this place, Octavio,
I would expect you; at the same time, Fabio
Wrote to me to the same effect. In this
Extreme perplexity and dark abyss,
Bewilder'd at my double character,
At once the challenged and the challenger,
Confused and sadden'd thus, I durst
Not be the judge to which to turn to first,
And so, together I have brought you,—
See now, if accompanied, I sought you,
Arrange the point of precedence; that being known,
You are two, you are men of honour, I am alone.

Enter the DUKE.
DUKE.
Is Enrico here?

ENRICO.
Yes, here I stray.

DUKE.
I am rejoiced that I did persevere,
In seeking you, until I met you here:
Were not my orders not to leave to-day
The palace?

ENRICO.
I can only say
By way of excuse, my lord......

DUKE.
'Tis well,—
All now is understood that late befell—
With your whole conduct I am hurt; I say
That I will punish another way
Him who has made my heart with sorrow swell.

ENRICO.
My lord......

DUKE.
Enough.

ENRICO.
If I may be......

DUKE.
No more.

ENRICO.
Allowed......

DUKE.
Still more offences, you
Are adding to your first. Remain, you two;
Do thou, Enrico, come along with me.

[Exit.
ENRICO.
Even as thy shadow shall I follow thee.

[Exit.
OCTAVIO.
That his favour should occasion this!

FABIO.
That this should happen from a power like his!

OCTAVIO.
O evil fate!

FABIO.
O luckless destiny!

OCTAVIO.
No vengeance is there for my jealousy!

FABIO.
Vengeance to-day, my honour you must miss.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

—A ROOM IN THE DUKE'S COUNTRY PALACE.
Enter LISIDA and CELIA.
LISIDA.
To the most remote apartment
Of the duke's house have I entered,
And even here, to me it seemeth,
We are not in perfect safety
From my father; but the gardener
Who has left us here, and went
Out to see what is occurring,
(For with women, I have noticed,
Ever is a swain obliging
Ever is a rustic courteous)—
Does he not delay?

CELIA.
Not greatly,
For I hear a key now turning
In the gallery-door, and some one
Enters by that way.

LISIDA.
Who is it?

CELIA.
Enrico and the duke.

LISIDA.
Alas!
What shall he say, if he finds me
Thus concealed within his dwelling,
And in this disguise? I know not
Why, against my cruel fortune,
Heaven unites such torturing foes.

CELIA.
What shall we do?

LISIDA.
There is a closet
Here, and luckily it is open;
Let us, Celia, hide therein;
They may pass without perceiving
We are there. I thus may gain
More than lose by this adventure,
Since I must, to some remoter
Time, adjourn my present doubts.

[They enter the closet, which looks out in the garden; the door is closed.
Enter the DUKE and ENRICO.
ENRICO.
What, my lord, have you discovered
That so much doth irritate you,
Seeking thus the most secluded
Chamber here for explanation?

DUKE.
First I'll see if yonder closet
Door is locked, before I speak:—
Yes, we are alone, Enrico,
And the fitting time is now,
To acquaint me with the substance
Of what you have learned for me
Of the feelings of fair Chloris—
Who is then her lover? Who?

ENRICO.
Though, complying with your orders,
I paid seeming court to Nise,
Nothing certain could I learn.

DUKE.
There we differ, for I have!

ENRICO.
Chloris then has got a lover?

DUKE.
Yes, Enrico.

ENRICO.
Do you know him?

DUKE.
As a traitor—a deceiver.

ENRICO.
If I knew him, I would give him
Death this moment by this sword.

DUKE.
No; for I myself must do so;
Since in Honour's grave diseases,
Power is but a bad physician,
And since valour is more skilful,
I prefer to trust to it.
Villain! draw thy sword, defend thee—
Here we're equal man to man—
You and I, and none to see us.

[The DUKE draws his sword.
ENRICO.
Oh! my lord, my lord, restrain thee!
Whilst submissive at thy feet,
I implore that, ere you slay me,
You at least will tell me why.

DUKE.
This it is, that you, though loving
Chloris ere you went to Spain,
When my heart to you intrusted
All the secret of its love,
You, I say, concealed your passion
Underneath your broken faith.

ENRICO.
Oh! withhold your sword, your highness.
Oh! withhold your arm, withhold
These reproaches, which afflict me
More than all, and hear the truth.

DUKE.
Speak then.

ENRICO.
I loved Lisida
From the moment I first saw her:
Chloris may, my lord, in mocking
Mood, perhaps her scorn have lessened,
Which with common courtesy
I acknowledge, since, believe me,
Chloris I have never loved.

DUKE.
What! you never loved her?

ENRICO.
No.

DUKE.
Then a new offence you offer
To my lady and myself:—
If you loved her, you offended
Me in that, and if you loved not,
You offended her as well.

[Advancing.
ENRICO,
retiring to the door.
Heaven, my lord, I call to witness
That I cannot now recede
One step further.

DUKE.
It were useless.

ENRICO.
Loyalty be now my judge,
That if this were a balcony,
I would fling myself from it.

DUKE.
I would leap too, and pursue thee.

ENRICO.
Everything respect suggested
I have done—retired before thee
Till the very wall I've reached to;—
By the cross upon this sword-hilt
Do I swear to thee I draw it,
But on this account—this only—
That I can retire no further.

DUKE.
And for this alone I have waited,
But to see thy sword unsheathed,
That I then might thus attack thee.

[ENRICO draws his sword, placing his back against the door by which LISIDA and CELIA had entered; they open it, ENRICO passes through, and it is immediately closed.
ENRICO.
Heaven, no doubt, my life preserveth
For some reason known to it.

[Door closes.
DUKE.
Heavens! within this room were hiding
Strangers,—I shall break the door,
Splintering it in thousand pieces
With my hands and with my feet.

[He strikes with his dagger at the door.
LISIDA,
within.
Gardeners of this country palace,
Help! come quickly, break the door,
For the duke in sudden anger
Slays Enrico.

DUKE.
'Tis the voice
Of fair Lisida.—The Heavens
Give to thee both life and fortune.

FABIO,
within.
Break the door, now let us enter
Every one.

DUKE.
Well, since no more
Valour now can give me vengeance,
Wit must do it; yes, I think
I have found a means.

Enter FABIO, CHLORIS, OCTAVIO, NISE, and PONLEVI.
FABIO.
'Tis opened:—
What is this?

DUKE.
What could it be?
But for anger, satisfaction,
And for jealousy, the same,
It delights me, lovely Chloris,
To behold you here and now.

CHLORIS.
Walking hither with my sister
Some hours since, she wished to stay
Until fell the shades of evening,
And I have returned for her.

DUKE.
Then in time for gratulations,
Have you come, for she is wed.

FABIO.
Wed! my lord, and say with whom?

DUKE.
With Enrico: 'twas an error,
Fabio, when you thought that he
Was in love with lovely Chloris,
Since it seems 'twas Lisida;—
I heard all about the challenge
From this servant.

PONLEVI.
I should be
Speaker of your house, your highness.

DUKE.
I, the happy end foreseeing,
Matters so arranged, that they
Stay within this garden waiting
Till your anger is appeased;
Let it not disturb a rapture
That thy sanction only needs.

CHLORIS,
aside.
Enrico I have lost! ah, me!

NISE,
aside.
Naught with us to-day has prospered.

DUKE.
Come, Enrico, hither come;
Come, fair Lisida, and kneeling
Kiss your sire's forgiving hand.

Enter LISIDA and ENRICO.
ENRICO.
First I kiss thy feet, your highness.

LISIDA.
May the green eternal laurel
Bind thy brows, my gracious prince.

FABIO,
aside.
Though I don't believe a tittle
Of all this, I must affect it,
Since 'twill give a contradiction
To the rumours of the vulgar,
When my daughter is his wife:—
All is owing to your favour.

[Aloud to the DUKE.
DUKE.
Make this peace secure, Octavio,
And to Nise give thy hand,
Since, alas! the lovely Chloris
Is so fair, that no one here
Doth deserve her.—Ah! fair tyrant,
[Aside.
Well I now revenge thy scorn.

CHLORIS.
Let this explanation bring
Unto all a sure conviction,
That to do a wrong to Love,
Can but prosper for a short time;
Being a god, he needs must triumph
Over every other foe.

FABIO,
to the audience.
May your favour grant us pardon
For the faults that we have shown.