Yet have distinction, vision, but for one? To speak with rapid and continuous flow,
Mine own Bianca! I shall need too much mercy
Yet know not how the unthought words start from Or ere to-morrow, to be merciless.
BIANCA (seizing and detaining AURIO). My lord! my lord! we have two babes at home They cannot speak yet; but, your name, my lord, And they shall lisp it, ere they lisp mine ownEre that poor culprit's yonder, their own father's. Befriend us, oh, befriend us! "Tis a title Heaven joys at, and the hard and savage earth Doth break its sullen nature to delight inThe destitute's sole friend And thou pass too! Why, what a common liar was thy face, That said the milk of mercy flow'd within thee!Ye're all alike.-Off! off! - Ye're all alike.
[Exeunt all but FAZIO, the Officer, and BIANCA.
BIANCA (creeping to FAZIO).
Oh, think not on't!And thou remember'st too that beauteous evening Upon the Arno; how we sail'd along, And laugh'd to see the stately towers of Florence Waver and dance in the blue depth beneath us. How carelessly thy unretiring hand
Abandon'd its soft whiteness to my pressure!
Thou busy, sad remembrancer of evil!-
How exquisitely happy have we two
Sate in the dusky and discolour'd light,
That flicker'd through our shaking lattice bars!
Our children at our feet, or on our laps,
Warm in their breathing slumbers, or at play
With rosy laughter on their cheeks!-Oh God!-
Bianca, such a flash of thought crost o'er me,
I dare not speak it.
Come to the wheel!-it wrings my very heart,
To fancy how the seams will crack, or haply
The hangman will be seen in 't!-That I should live
To be purveyor of the modes to a hangman!
They pass me by on the other side of the street;
They spurn me from their doors; they load the air
With curses that are flung on me: the Palace,
The Ducal Palace, that should aye be open
To voice of the distress'd, as is God's heaven,
Is ring'd around with grim and armed savages,
That with their angry weapons smite me back,
As though I came with fire in my hand, to burn
The royal walls: the children in the streets
Quick, let me have 't!-to-morrow thou 'It not speak it. Break off their noisy games to hoot at me;
To-morrow will the cry begin, to-morrow.
It must not be, and I sit idle here.
Fazio, there must be in this wide, wide city
Piercing and penetrating eyes for truth,
Souls not too proud, too cold, too stern for mercy.
I'll hunt them out, and swear them to our service.
I'll raise up something — Oh, I know not what
Shall boldly startle the rank air of Florence
With proclamation of thy innocence.
I'll raise the dead! I'll conjure up the ghost
Of that old rotten thing, Bartolo; make it
And the dogs from the porches howl me on.
But here's a succour.-(To Falsetto.) Oh, good sir, thy
The man thou feastedst with but yesterday,
He to whose motion thou wast a true shadow,
Whose hand rain'd gifts upon thee - he I mean,
Fazio, the bounteous, free, and liberal Fazio-
He's wrongfully accused, wrongfully doom'd:
I swear to thee 't is wrongfully. - Oh, sir,
An eloquent honey-dropping tongue like thine,
Till Justice would grow amorous, and embrace it.
How would it garnish up his innocence,
Sweet lady, thou o'ervaluest my poor powers:
Any thing in reason to win so much loveliness
To smile on me- but this were wild and futile.
In reason?
Is not that in the spacious realm of reason?—
Kind sir, there's not a prayer will mount hereafter
Heavenward from us or our poor children's lips,
But in it thy dear name will rise embalm'd;
And prayers have power to cancel many a sin,
That clogs and flaws our coarse and corrupt nature
'Tis to save a human life
Cry out i' the market place, "Thou didst not slay Methinks, good Dandolo, 'tis the hour we owe
Farewell, farewell! If in the walls of Florence
Be any thing like hope or comfort, Fazio,
I'll clasp it with such strong and steadfast arms,
I'll drag it to thy dungeon, and make laugh
This silence with strange uncouth sounds of joy.
FALSETTO, DANDOLO, PHILARIO.
Good Signior Dandolo, here's a prodigal waste
Of my fair speeches to the sage philosopher.
I counted on at least a two months' diet,
Besides stray boons of horses, rings, and jewels.
Oh my Falsetto, a coat of my fashion
Attendance at the Lady Portia's toilette.-
Any commission in our way, fair lady?
Oh yes! I'm ever indispensable there
As is her looking-glass.-
BIANCA.
Riotous madness!
To waste a breath (Detaining them) upon such thin-
blown bubbles!
Why, thou didst cling to him but yesterday,
As 't were a danger of thy life to part from him;
Didst swear it was a sin in Providence
He was not born a prince. (To Dandolo.) And thou,
sir, thou-
Chains, sir, in May—it is a heavy wear;
Hard and unseemly, a rude weight of iron.--
Faugh! cast ye off this shape and skin of men;
Ye stain it, ye pollute it: be the reptiles
Ye are. (To Philario.) And thou, sir-I know
whose porch
He hired thee to troll out thy fulsome ditties:
I know whose dainty ears were last night banqueted
With the false harlotry of thy rich airs.
I do beseech thee, lady, judge me not
The prime of Florence wait upon thy smiles,
Like sunflowers on the golden light they love.
Thy lips have such sweet melody, 't is hung upon
Till silence is an agony. Did it plead
For one condemn'd, but oh, most innocent,
So harshly. In the state, Heaven knows, I'm power- "T would be a music th' air would fall in love with,
I could remove yon palace walls, as soon
As alter his sad doom. But if to visit him,
To tend him with a soft officious zeal,
Waft the mild magic of mine art around him,
Making the chill and lazy dungeon air
More smooth, more gentle to the trammell'd breathing:
All that I can I will, to make his misery
Slide from him light and airily.
Why then there's hope the Devil hath not all Florence.
Go-go!-I cannot point thee out the way:
Mine eyes are cloudy; it is the first rain
And never let it die, till it had won
Nay think, oh think,
What 't is to give again a forfeit life:
Ay, such a life as Fazio's!-Frown not on me: Thou think'st that he's a murderer-'t is all false, A trick of Fortune, fancifully cruel,
To cheat the world of such a life as Fazio's.
Frivolous and weak: I could not if I would. BIANCA.
Hath dew'd them, since—since when I cannot tell Nay, but I'll lure thee with so rich a boon —
I give him thee - Bianca - I his wife :-
I pardon all that has been, all that may be -
Oh I will be thy handmaid; be so patient —
Calmly, contentedly, and sadly patient-
And if ye see a pale or envious motion
Upon my cheek, a quivering on my lips,
Like to complaint- then strike him dead before me
Thou shalt enjoy all—all that I enjoy'd:
His love, his life, his sense, his soul be thine;
And I will bless thee, in my misery bless thee.
What mist is on thy wild and wandering eyes? Know'st thou to whom and where thou play'st the raver?
I, Aldabella, whom the amorous homage
Of rival lords and princes stirs no more
Than the light passing of the common air
I, Aldabella, when my voice might make
Thrones render up their stateliest to my service-
Stoop to the sordid sweepings of a prison?
I-
Nay, stand not with thy pale lips quivering nothings- Proud-lipp'd woman, earth's most gorgeous soveSpeak out, and freely.
Fie, fie upon this choking in my throat-
One thou didst love, Giraldi Fazio:
One who loved thee, Giraldi Fazio
He's doom'd to die, to die to morrow morning! And lo 't is eve already!
Why then the man must die.
Nay, gentle lady, Thou 'rt high-born, rich, and beautiful: the princes,
Were worthless of my Fazio! Foolish woman,
Thou cast'st a jewel off! The proudest lord
That ever revell'd in thy unchaste arms,
Was a swarth galley-slave to Fazio.
Ah me! me! me! e'en I his lawful wife
Know't not more truly, certainly than thou.-
Hadst thou loved him, I had pardon'd, pitied thee:
We two had sate, all coldly, palely sad;
Dropping, like statues on a fountain-side,
A pure, a silent, and eternal dew.
Hadst thou outwept me, I had loved thee for 't
And that were easy, for I'm stony here. (Putting her
Ho there! to th' hospital for the lunatics Fetch succour for this poor distrest
Oh pardon me, I came not to upbraid thee.-
Think, think — I'll whisper it, I'll not betray thee;
The air 's a tell-tale, and the walls are listeners:-
Think what a change! Last night within thy cham-
ber;
(I'll not say in thy arms; for that displeases thee,
And sickens me to utter,) and to-night
Upon a prison pallet, straw, hard straw;
For eastern perfumes, the rank noisome air;
For gentle harpings, shrilly clanking chains:-
Nay, turn not off: the worst is yet to come.
To-morrow at his waking, for thy face
Languidly, lovingly down drooping o'er him,
The scarr'd and haggard executioner.
ALDABELLA (turning away). There is a dizzy trembling in mine eye; But I must dry the foolish dew for shame. Well, what is it to me? I slew him not; Nay, nor denounced him to the judgment-seat. I but debase myself to lend free hearing To such coarse fancies- I must hence: to-night I feast the lords of Florence.
Things done within some far and distant planet,
Or offseum of some dreamy poet's brain,
Ail tales of human goodness. Or they 're legends
Left us of some good old forgotten time,
Ere harlotry became a queenly sin,
And housed in palaces. Oh, earth's so crowded
With Vice, that if strange Virtue stray abroad,
They hoot it from them like a thing accurst.
Fazio, my Fazio! - but we'll laugh at them:
We will not stay upon their wicked soil,
E'en though they sue us not to die and leave them.
Ah, what a fierce and frantic coil is here,
Because the sun must shine on one man less!
I'm sick and weary-my feet drag along.
Why must I trail, like a scotch'd serpent, hither?
Here, to this house, where all things breathe of Fazio?
The air tastes of him- the walls whisper of him.
Oh, I'll to bed! to bed! - What find I there?
Fazio, my fond, my gentle, fervent Fazio? -
No! - Cold stones are his couch, harsh iron bars
Curtain his slumbers. —Oh, no, no-I have it—
He is in Aldabella's arms. Out on 't!
Fie, fie-that's rank, that's noisome !-I remember-
Our children-ay, my children - Fazio's children.
"I was my thoughts' burthen as I came along,
Were it not wise to bear them off with us
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Where have I been?—I have not been at rest—
There's yet the stir of motion in my limbs.
Oh, I remember-'t was a hideous strife
Within my brain: I felt that all was hopeless,
Yet would not credit it; and I set forth
To tell my Fazio so, and dared not front him
With such cold comfort. Then a mist came o'er me,
And something drove me on, and on, and on,
Street after street, each blacker than the other,
And a blue axe did shimmer through the gloom
Its fiery edge did waver to and fro-
And there were infants' voices, faint and failing,
That panted after me. I knew I fled them;
Yet could not choose but fly. And then, oh then,
I gazed and gazed upon the starless darkness,
And blest it in my soul, for it was deeply
And beautifully black- no speck of light;
And I had feverish and fantastic hopes,
That it would last for ever, nor give place
To th' horrible to-morrow. Ha, 't is there! -
"Tis the grey morning-light aches in mine eyes
It is that morrow! - -Ho!-Look out, look out!
With what a hateful and unwonted swiftness
It scares my comfortable darkness from me!
Fool that I am!-I've lost the few brief hours
Yet left me of my Fazio! - Oh, away,
A way from this cold world?-Why should we breed up Away to him! - away!
It may be God doth punish in this world
The gale, whose flower-sweet breath no more shall To spare hereafter.
Oh, what a gentle ministrant is music
To piety-to mild, to penitent piety!
Oh, it gives plumage to the tardy prayer,
That lingers in our lazy earthly air,
And melts with it to heaven-To die, 't is dreary;
To die a villain's death, that's yet a pang.
But it must down: I have so steep'd my soul
In the bitter ashes of true penitence,
That they have put on a delicious savour,
And all is halcyon quiet, all within.
Bianca! Where is she?-why comes she not?-
Yet I do almost wish her not to come,
Lest she again enamour me of life.
Oh, thou hast not been
So wild a rebel to the will of God!
If that thou hast, 't will make my passionate arms,
That ring thee round so fondly, drop off from thee,
Like sere and wither'd ivy; make my farewell
Spoken in such suffocate and distemper'd tone,
In earth's black womb-oh, plunge it, plunge it deep, "T will sound more like
Deep, dark! or if a devil be abroad,
Give it to him, to bear it whence it came,
To its own native Hell.-Oh no, no, no!-
He must not have it: for with it he'll betray
More men, more noble spirits than Lucifer
Drew down from heaven. This yellow pestilence
Laid waste my Eden; made a gaudy bird of me,
For soft Temptation's silken nets to snare.
It crept in to us--Sin came with it-Misery
Dogg'd its foul footsteps-ever-deepening Sin,
And ever-darkening Misery.Philario,
Away with it!-away!-(Takes the picture.) Here's
fairer gazing.
Thou wouldst not think these smooth and smiling lips
Could speak away a life-a husband's life.
Yet ah! I led the way to sin-I wrong'd her:
Yet, Heaven be witness, though I wrong'd her, loved
her,
E'en in my heart of heart.
They live! thank God, they live
I should not rack thee with such fantasies:
But there have been such hideous things around me
Some whispering me, some dragging me; I've felt
Not half a moment's calm since last we parted,
So exquisite, so gentle, as this now-
I could sleep on thy bosom, Fazio.
Where is the twilight that should usher it?
Where is the sun, that should come golden on!
Ill-favour'd liar, to come prate of morning,
With torchlight in thy hand to scare the darkness.
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