na SNNA- KATHARINE -GREEN >s THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^ W- $bf& SSISPE?/ f I BY THE SAME AUTHOR. THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDE, AND OTHER POEMS. I6MO, CLOTH, $1.00. " The ballads and narrative poems which form the greater part of this collection are vigorous productions, whose bar renness of redundant words and epithets, and whose directness and straightforwardness of narrations, are in strong contrast with the diffuse garrulity of most female writers. She has the true story-teller's faculty for investing what she has to say with interest, and for keeping expectation on the stretch ; and she delivers her message with masculine force and brevity." Harper's Monthly Magazine. G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. RISIFI'S DAUGHTER A DRAMA BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN NEW YORK & LONDON G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 1887 COPYRIGHT BY AXNA KATHARINE GREEN Press of G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS New York DRAMATIS PERSONS. OSALDI A Florentine prince. GIOVANNI, } > His sons. CAMILLO, ) RISIFI A wealthy merchant. ZENO Friend and confidant of OSALDI. LEON, } > Gentlemen. SILVIO, ) URBINO Friend and confidant of RISIFI. ANTONIO. BEPPO. PAULO. PAGE. PRIEST. MESSENGER. GINEVRA Daughter of RISIFI. BIANCA. 762883 ACT I. ACT I. SCENE A dismantled room in the Osaldi palace. Enter OSALDI and GIOVANNI. GIOVANNI. What, gone ? All gone ? fame, fortune, substance, lands ? Nought but the title left ? OSALDI. Ay, ay, nought else. The goodly tree of our most ancient house Which for so long a time hath stood the shock Of every wind of heav'n, hath fall'n at last ; And I th' unhappy cause. GIOVANNI. Thou? OSALDI. But for me, For me and that wild folly of the blood Which would not look on danger in the bud, However brave to meet it in the flower, You and your brother might have stood this day 3 4 JtlSTFI'S DAUGHTER. Among the proudest nobles in the land, Instead of hiding in these dim old halls Heads that were made for council, hands for fight, And hearts whose manly worth a father sees Bat dares not praise too much, lest men should say, " The loss of fortune, favor, and repute Hath made the old man mad ; low as he is, He thinks to charm the world back to his feet With his two needy sons." Ah, my Giovanni, Ton are too gentle ; yon but wrench the sword When you should boldly draw it. Wrong like this, Demands a harsher treatment. GIOVASXI. Wrong ? Well, yes, Perhaps it was a wrong. Bat when did wrong E'er mount so high that love could not outsoar it ? Father, I lore you, and in that word toss The past away forever. As for the future, If we be born Osaldis, let us be Osaldis to die core, and made to bend, Stoop with such strength we crush the thing we stoop to, And rise up lords again. Yon smile, my sire ; Does my weak body pat to shame my words ? If so, my deeds must pat to shame my body. OSALDL If I did smile it was with pride, my boy, To find my fl^gfafrgs JM You and your brother Are two young eagles hatched upon a rock RISIFI'S DA UGHTER. 5 But needing nought but your great eagle hearts To teach you how to mount. Oh that my strength Were as my years, that I might live to see Your wings above the clouds ! GIOVAJOffL You will, you wilL By this right arm's good force - OSJLLDL No force, my son ; I am too old for force. I fain would see The end before I die, and fortune forced, Yields not till blood and sinew, heart and brain Have well-nigh spent themselves. GIOVAJfXL How then attain ? OSALDL As you attain the fruit of yonder tree ; Stand up and reach, my son. GIOVAXXL But all are reaching, And what am I that I alone should pluck ? OSALXH. Yon are a prince. Ay, but you say a poor one, And gold seeks gold. 6 R 1 'SIFT'S DA UGHTER. OSALDI. True if it seek not rank. Boy, you are dull, methinks. The ripest fruit Which hangs within the reach of noble youth, Falls but through woman's favor. You must wed. GIOVANNI. Ah! OSALDI. For {Enter ZENO. But hold ! here comes our worthy Zeno ; Step back, I pray, but do not quite withdraw ; I 'd speak to you anon. [GIOVANNI draws back. OSALDI approaches ZENO. Well, well, what news ? What says the sleek Rigoli ? ZENO. Good, my lord, The worthy count sends greeting ; knows your fame And bows unto it ; knows your son's deserts And cries himself his servant ; feels them both Too weighty in the balance 'gainst his daughter, And therefore must decline the brave alliance You bade me to propose. OSALDI. A y, ay, ay, ay, A smooth, soft message, but it breaks my heart. XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 7 My fame ? Great heavens ! My deserts ? Ye powers ! They are most weighty. Had we owned more gold, Methinks we then had seen a miracle, Since what had made all other scales weigh down Had tossed this up in air. Ah, well, the world Speaks suavely in this answer of Rigoli. ZENO. My lord, a five year hence the Count Rigoli Will think himself much honored if he gain So much as late admission to Osaldi. OSALDI. Hath Giocchi then ZENO. My gracious lord, no Giocchi ; There 's craft in Giocchi blood ; I like not Giocchi. OSALDI. Ay, but what said he ? Something blunt, I wot. What said the jealous Giocchi ? ZENO. Truly, Prince, He said no more than this : " When proud Osaldi Can show a fortune equal to his birth, Then let him seek my daughter. 8 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. OSALDI. When, when, then f And does he think we e'er should seek his daughter Were we so much as by one scudo richer ? Fie on him and his daughter ! ZENO. Yea, my lord, We are well rid of Giocchi. As to Uzzi OSALDI. Good ! what of Uzzi ? ZENO. He but stared upon me, And waving wide the fringes of his sleeve, Passed by without a word. OSALDI. And this from Uzzi ! Time was when had an Uzzi but so much As laid his hand upon my grandsire's arm, An hundred swords had winged them to the light To thrust the insult back. O we are fallen ! Our day is dead indeed. ZENO. Never so dead But it will rise again. There yet is one OSALDI. Who ? who ? KISIFI'S DA UGHTER. ZENO. An honorable man, my lord, Of wealth so great, Rigoli, ay, or Giocchi, Could not heap up bajocchi to his scudi. One with a daughter as exceeding fair As the Rigoli 's foul ; a woman, Prince, As young as Giocchi's daughter, and as chaste As Uzzi's wife is not. And though no count Have you not had enough of counts, my lord ? A man of such high-reaching, quick ambition, That in default of wealth more merchantable, He 'd give his very life-blood, drop by drop, To see his daughter wedded honorably. Ah, I have heard him talk ! no count, I say, But yet OSALDI. No count ? Belike a noble, then, In all but titles : simple seignior, Zeno, But of most gentle pedigree and station. ZENO. No pedigree, my lord ; but patience ! tell me Is it for names we suffer more this hour, Or gold to make the names which we possess As lustrous as they should be ? OSALDI. But this seignior ? This brave, discreet, and most ambitious father- What is he called, good Zeno ? 10 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. ZENO. Prince, you know him ; Risifi is his name. OSALDI. A merchant ? Heavens ! What have I done that you should mock me thus. A merchant ! a Risifi ! O have pity ! ZENO. My lord, it is because of my great pity That I commend this same. A merchant, true, But yet a man of spotless honor also ; No Uzzi, Prince, in this. A merchant, true, But yet with a most exquisite sweet daughter, And no Rigoli here. A merchant, yes, But one with mind to yield his daughter up, And in this also, neither churl nor Giocchi. My lord, if you do wed your son to her, You '11 live to see three counts below your knee, And those are OSALDI. Hold ! this daughter, have you seen her ? ZENO. Yea, I have seen her. OSALDI. Is she merchant too ? Are barter, bales, and commerce writ upon her ; Shows she her blood, good Zeno ? JRISIfTS DAUGHTER. II ZENO. Just so much As the rich rose shows it is born of briers ; She is most lovely, Prince. OSALDI. And young, you say ? ZENO. Scarce sixteen, yet, my lord. OSALDI. And chaste ? ZENO. Ah, Prince, She wears her spirit plainly on her brow, A white star in a cloudless firmament. OSALDI. Hum ! and a merchant's daughter ! ZENO. Virtue, Prince, Doth need no pedigree to make it lovely. OSALDI. Nor gold, it seems. Ah, ah, and must it be ? Must Ugo, mighty Ugo lend his blood To make Risifi great. It is too much. \A pause, Zeno, the storm blows heavy on Osaldi And we must bend or break. If I were now 12 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. A two score younger, I would cry, " Blow on And break us if thou can'st ; we will not stoop." But I am old ; my sons, my two brave sons Sit heavy at my heart, and so we bend ; May Heav'n make light the storm o'erwhelming us ! ZENO. It will, my lord, it will. O joyful day ! O happy, happy day ! O most kind day ! {.Exit. OSALDI, bitterly. Ah, happy day indeed ! [ To GIOVANNI.] Son, by your leave, Another word with you. Touching that matter We were engaged upon, if you do wed, 'T is certain you must wed a girl of dower ; Is it not so ? GIOVANNI. In truth it seems so, father. OSALDI. A girl of goodly dower ; of wealth enough To build our old house up unto the height Of its late grandeur ? GIOVANNI. Certain, if possible. RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 13 OSALDI. Son, it is possible. Indeed, to tell you truly, I know of such a one. A fair girl too, Of beauty most bewitching, and though lacking In much that an Osaldi might desire, Possessing to the full the two great needs Of loveliness and riches. Can you trust me ? GIOVANNI. Trust you ! OSALDI. Hold ! you would ask if she is born Of a right noble race ? Son, she is not ; But lions crouch, and so may an Osaldi, If, like the lion, he rouse him with a spring. GIOVANNI. Her name, father her name ? OSALDI, embarrassed. Her name, my son ? Her name ? Why ask ! 'T will be Osaldi soon. Nay, then ; her name ? It is it is Risifi, An honest one enough. GIOVANNI. The merchant's daughter ? OSALDI. How ! do you start at that ? Are you so proud ? 14 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. No, no, not proud. I was but thinking, father, How base a thing it is for one who hoped To walk above all earthly littleness, To lead a trusting woman to the altar Just for the gold she brings. OSALDI. But gold brings power, And power brings honor ; you will sit on thrones With riches for your bride ; is that so base ? Boy, you are young, and look on life as yet From a mere hillock's top. To you the future Is but the present's dim continuance, And change a thing of circumstance, not self, Whereas self changes soonest. What to-day Seems to your youth the only good in life Will be, a five year hence, a cause of laughter, If not of secret shame and stern repentance. Life is no plain, however vast or varied, But rising ground, where every forward step Shifts the horizon. Then be wise, my son, And whilst you plan the present, O remember The manhood that will tower in the future, And give it room, room, room. And now no more ; I go to plead with all the saints for thee, And a fair issue to our large endeavors. Keep counsel till we meet, and then I look To see thee smile again, for on thy smile A father's pleasure hangs ; a father true, KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 15 Who did thee once a wrong, but who in this Seeks for that wrong to make due recompense. {Exit. GIOVANNI. So, so, thus does Giovanni seal his fate, Like all his race before him. Is it well ? Alas, 't is not for me to question it. \A pause. And thou, sweet image, which, though seen but once, Hath ever dwelt within Giovanni's breast As type of earth's supremest loveliness ; Thou who with one unconscious glance hath made A garden to blow ever in my thoughts ; Must I then give thee up ; forego the hope I scarcely knew was hope until I felt The wreck it made in crumbling into ruin ; Toss from my soul the one pure joy it held Untarnished from the world, and bowing down My head unto the yoke of ancient custom, See all that makes life blessed float away With that one dream which formed my happiness ? Yes ; for the sake of these I love so well, My white-haired sire and him who calls me brother, This, and much more, must I, Giovanni, do : May Heaven receive the willing sacrifice ! ACT II. ACT II. SCENE Large hall in the Osaldi palace. Enter LEON and SILVIO, meeting. LEON. What 's this ? What 's this ? Defiance from the south, And Florence filled with rumors of a war ? SILVIO. So Beppo says, a man more slow to prick The gusty bags of rumor, than to act Upon th' event when it calls out for action. LEON. 'T is news to rouse Osaldi and awake The slumbering lion in Giovanni's breast. SILVIO. Look where he comes, brows bent and eyes cast down As though Ambition with its glowing wand Had stirred his humors up. [Enter GIOVANNI. 19 20 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. SILVIO, starting forward. Giovanni ! Count ! LEON, detaining SILVIO. Stay, man, the hawk 's in flight, let him soar on Unstayed by thee. SILVIO, going. Then here 's for lower game. Alphonso waits within the antechamber ; Let us to him. LEON. Good ! I am with you there. {Exeunt LEON and SILVIO. GIOVANNI. Where is the empty sphere, my home ? Where is the will to measure will against ; The rocks to wear to sands with my flood waves ? Ah, if stupendous if ! a war were near Hot with the smoke of conflict ; if the wind Were blowing that should bear demanding cries For strength and valor ; if the so small cloud That now is sailing upward from the south Should grow Then woe and woe again and yet, Proud inward giant, lion-souled Ambition, Thou 'dst have thy freedom then. Woe ! Yet my soul Could hurtle 'gainst such woe and strike a flame Of lightning out. Ah, if the cannon shook XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 21 The ground beneath men's feet ; if glare were death And men were hurrying from this world in crowds, Then could I rise upon the reeking field And shake dilatingly my power out In face of those white brows. If need should come If trembling quailing, halting, veering men Drew back from vict'ry side by side with Death, Then I Ah, old Thermopylae ! thy Shades White, crowned and smiling as they smiled in death, Pass nigh and fill my breast with jealous shame That I can stretch no brother-hand to such ! Ah, warrior-creating Marathon ! That drew from clay great hero-souls, put sword In hand of Pleasure, pricked young men to deeds Which shake the world e'en now ! Ah, Hannibal, Surrounded by thy long-haired heroines ! Crecy ! Agincourt ! and fields Where ev'n the grass that blooms grows quiveringly In pride of showing where a hero died ! 1 'm one of you, O warriors, and my feet Go ever wandering towards a battle-field. [ The castle bell rings. Ha ! what is that ? \Shouts within. [.Enter LEON, followed by others. How now, what means this noise ? LEON. 'T is war's alarm ! revolt is in the south And the Duke calls for soldiers. 22 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. War ? You mock me. Events rush not so close upon our wish, Else were we gods and circumstance our vassal. The soldier-steel that buckles to my side Hath shook its music in your ears and lo ! You cry out War ! in echo. LEON. No ; my cry Is single and most true. From south and east Swells the loud call. Although the wind be low, There 's import in it. In a few hours hence Osaldi's towers will shiver in its blast And his deep donjons tremble. GIOVANNI. Welcome to it ! So it shake ruin from our walls and ope A way to wealth without the aid of woman. But look, the Prince. {.Enter PRINCE. LEON. We will remain no longer. \Exeunt LEON and his companions. GIOVANNI, kneeling. Father, your blessing ! In yon clarion cry I hear a call worthy Osaldi's answer. Bless me and let me go. RISIFrS DAUGHTER. 2$ OSALDI. Hath thy young blood Leaped to the call so quick ? GIOVANNI. Yea, as the echo Answers the huntsman's horn. OSALDI. 'T is well ; but son, A man of princely blood goes not to war With his own sword alone. You must have men, And men means gold, and gold means GIOVANNI. Marriage ? OSALDI. Yes. GIOVANNI. Oh, I had hoped the heavens had turned the scale Against that hard alternative. But fate Wills not to man both fame and happiness : He who would rest his daring foot on heights So single and so lofty, ev'n must learn To tread his own heart down. OSALDI. And you consent ? 24 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. At once, so this, as all things, speed me hence Unto the field of war. OSALDI. It shall, or nought Shall be by us concluded. Zeno, good friend, A mission for your wisdom. \Enter ZENO. How ! your frowns Speak of fresh tidings. Well, what now ? what now? ZENO. A delegation, Prince ; a line of guests Drawn up before the gate in order soldierly ; A goodly company. OSALDI. Their names ? condition ? ZENO. Worthy their errand, if not worthy thee. Rigoli, master, Giocchi, and proud Uzzi, In all the pomp of retinue and horse. OSALDI. Ha, the three foes most deadly to our pride, And seated at our gates ! Well, let them sit. 'T is not to wed their daughters to my sons I warrant they have brought their insolent state To mock my house's poverty. Let them sit J JVSIFI'S DAUGHTER. 2$ Long rank has made us patient ; we will see If their new honors bide the bit as well. ZENO. But, Prince, they bear the symbol of the Duke. Not petty counties, but all Florence speaks In their shrill trumps. OSALDI. So, so, as War's solicitors they come ; 'T is insolence, but we '11 meet it. Friend, your ear. Away to the Risifi ; give him hope Of our alliance : bring us pledge of his, And let the whole be done within the moment As fast as horse can spring or wish can travel. Exit [ZENO. O we will meet these upstarts, we will meet them ! GIOVANNI. The trumps grow clamorous. OSALDI. It is music, boy, Long known to these high walls. Let it sing on. A past like ours commands the present's patience. GIOVANNI. And yet for courtesy. OSALDI. Hath ruin courtesy ? Methought that ruin had no grace but pride. 26 RISIFPS DAUGHTER. Yet since 't is Florence speaks, hence to the gates And bid the strangers welcome in the name Of Country and the Duke. But first your arm Unto my chair of state. Whate'er betides, The single seat this room contains, holds me. \_Seats himself. [Exit GIOVANNI. Ah, I will show these nobles of a day What stuff is in the man they seek to trample. Enter GIOVANNI, ushering in RIGOLI, Uzzi, and GIOCCHI with their suites. RIGOLI. Greeting, my lord ! Rigoli stands, your servant. OSALDI. 'T is well, Rigoli. Thus hath your sire stood, And your sire's sire before you. Yours too, Giocchi ; And yours still more, proud Uzzi. UZZI. Sooth, my lord, One needs must stand in halls where seats are lacking. GIOCCHI. And cry himself your servant whom the Duke Honors with his commands. OSALDI. So, so, the Duke. Your courtesy, my lords, outsoars my thanks RISIFI 'S DA UGHTER. 2J And puts my age to blush. Before such wit My threescore ten may well bow down its head And yield its seat unquestioning. [Rises. Your wishes, seigniors ; In deference to the Duke, I stand to listen. uzzi. 'T is well ; the Duke shall know your complaisance; 'T will please him, doubtless. OSALDI. Come ! your message, counts. RIGOLI. It is of war. Our lord Duke goes to war With all his chivalry. You have two sons ? OSALDI. Ay, ay. RIGOLI. Two sons of such an ancient house Should shed a beacon-light upon the field, Or so the good Duke thinks. Could you then spare Their youth to the fair cause OSALDI. Well, well ? RIGOLI. The Duke Would greet them with all honor, them and theirs 28 JflSZFI'S DAUGHTER. A hundred men accoutered to the full Were company sufficient give them place And generalship ; for even youth hath claims When fivescore men come pricking at their heels. And furthermore, the good Duke bids us say, That for the loan of such fair sums as you May in your wisdom deem commensurate With your past fame and present consequence, He shares with you in fairness such results As wait upon the enterprise. Such is our message ; may your answer to it Be like your state : all substance if no show. [All bow mockingly. OSALDI, aside. Now may the saints grant patience ! Counts, my state Greets with indulgence your conspicuous effort At unaccustomed duties. May the years Bring you more aptitude. As for your message, It doeth honor to the Duke and me ; My answer to it [aside to GIOVANNI] See if Zeno comes ! [To Counts] I will consider. [Aside] O to haste him hither ! GIOCCHI. Stay ! hear Rigoli out. OSALDI. What ! is there more? XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 2$ RIGOLI. No more than this : that if as gossip prates The means are lacking to my lord the Prince To meet the hour's demands in manner fitting To his great name and famous heritage, The good Duke shows his mercy, and remem- b'ring The loneliness of age, entreats of thee To keep thy hearthstone merry with thy sons, Since they are all that wretched fortune leaves thee. OSALDI. Ah, ah, the Duke is kind and ye are kind. That look of decent shame and trembling awe Becomes your faces bravely. Thanks, my lords ; Ruin, were ruin mine, would find a balm In such display of grateful sympathy. \^They bow mockingly. GIOVANNI, aside to OSALDI. Have patience, father ; malice tips their scorn. OSALDI, aside to GIOVANNI. Patience ? Oh, ay ; such as the lion hath That leaps in thought with every burning throb Of his hot heart against the bars that cage him. No sign of Zeno yet ? GIOVANNI. None yet, my lord. 3O KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOCCHI. So, Prince, you understand us ? OSALDI. Ay, too well. Reverence and awe are easy read, my lords, So are servility and slavish fear. My grandsire Ugo read them plain enow Upon the faces of your ancestors. But come, enough of this. The Duke's command Awaits its answer. Let us [Aside] Ha, the sound And clatter of a horse within the court. [To GIO VANNI.] Is 't Zeno ? quick ! who waits without there ? speak ! GIOVANNI. Zeno, my lord. OSALDI to GIOVANNI. Good ! Bid him give you straight The answer that he brings me. Note it, thou ; And if it pleasure you, if fate has smiled, And the Risifi cries Amen ! to us, Lift up your head on entering ; but if No, Bow down your neck as God bows down our house Beneath the scornful heel of fortune's upstarts. [Exit GIOVANNI. RIGOLI, apart to uzzi. I know not why, but I like not his looks ; ^Should he deceive us, we should show some small. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 3! uzzi, apart to RIGOLI. It cannot be. Did 'st mark the rats our steps Scared from the arras ? They were lean, my lord ; Lean rats bespeak scant larders. RIGOLI apart to GIOCCHI. And proud looks, A store of hidden ducats. GIOCCHI apart to RIGOLI. Do not think it. Watch how he trembles, how his old head sinks With less and lesser hope upon his breast. No ducats there, good friends. OSALDI, with effort, his eyes fixed on the door. My noble seigniors, The hour has come to answer. Tell the Duke That the Osaldis' fortunes have not kept Strict pace with their desires. Time was when word Like this from the good Duke had met response As thunder follows lightning. But years and folly, Love, and the calls of war, have pricked our coffers, And they stand somewhat drained. We \with greater effori\ are poor {.Door opens, GIO VANNI enters, head erect. OSALDI'S voice rings outl\ Ay as ye guessed, my lords. To the demand Of the great Duke for soldiers, we can send But thrice a hundred, duly armed and mounted, 32 RISTFI'S DAUGHTER. Instead of the five thousand he had thought Consonant with our greatness. As for money Ten thousand scudi paid at once in full, Must meekly ask indulgence of the Duke For the round fifty we had hoped to send him. Is it enow to give my sons a place In front of danger ? RIGOLI, embarrassed. Quite enow, my lord. \Aside\ The old fox has deceived us. GIOCCHI. Noble prince, Florence owns you its debtor. For this gift Accept our thanks and our most humble service. Giocchi salutes you. RIGOLI. And Rigoli. OSALDI. Good my lords, For this same bending of your haughty necks My purse returns you suitable reverence. RIGOLI. His pride o'erwhelms us ; let us hence at once. Farewell, Osaldi ; your sons we meet anon. \Is about to pass, but pauses and looks back. As for the matter of my daughter, Prince XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 33 OSALDI. My lord, the jest was answered. My deserts, Ay, and my fame, small as it is, you say, Lift us above your daughter. It is well ; I would not add to your humility ; Speak of the thing no more. [RIGOLI passes on. uzzi. Uzzi departs, But not without repentance. Should my lord Still wish to wed his son unto my daughter OSALDI. Uzzi might pause. Pass on, pass on, my lord, We need you not. Upon your crooked soul Repentance sits askew. GIOCCHI. Take Giocchi's farewell. As for the lightness of our seeming scorn, Accept the sorrow of our better nature, And speak not of our folly to the Duke. OSALDI. I am Osaldi, seignior, and not Giocchi ; I never speak of folly. Hence ! away ! ACT III. ACT III. SCENE I. A room in the Osaldi palace. Enter GIOVANNI and ZENO. GIOVANNI. You say she 's fair. ZENO. Most fair ; her innocent face Hath that sweet look which comes from gentle thoughts, And in the glance of her large, lucent eye A witchery dwells that many a princely dame Would give her ancient pedigree to add Unto her store of charms. O you will love her When you shall see her. GIOVANNI. Think you so, good Zeno ? A heart like mine springs not at bliss so lightly. If kindness starts unbidden in my breast At touch of her soft spirit, it is all My anxious soul dare hope. But to th' affair For which we 've met. As matters look to-day 'T is time I saw and swore allegiance to 37 38 J?ZSfFS'S DAUGHTER. This fair bewitchment, lest the call to war Come e'er our force and armament be ready. ZENO. So thinks the noble Prince, and so, Risifi ; Wherefore it chances that on Agnes' eve The lordly merchant throws his portals wide For your betrothal. GIOVANNI. Agnes' eve ? 'T is soon. ZENO. Meantime your father prays that all be kept Secret as heretofore. Your brother GIOVANNI. Well? ZENO. Comes from the hunt to-day. See that he smiles In happy ignorance of what his youth May deem a degradation to his name, Till the event be certain and his scorn Fall pointless on the fixed shield of fate. GIOVANNI. Unwelcome tidings are as restless, seignior, As untrained falcons, and will fly, I ween, Whether we will or no. ZENO. Not if the jess Be strong and the hand steady. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 39 GIOVANNI. Well, well, well. [Exit ZENO. So, so ! but three days now, and honor, wealth, The pomp of generalship, and pride of power Will be my own, and life be set at last Within the groove of action. 'T is an end Towards which my thoughts have run since youth took on Color from high ambition ; yet, alas ! Where is the joy with which I looked to see This hour of triumph crowned ? Gone with the love That flushed the arid mountain tops of fame With lustre not their own. Thus runs the life Of man towards disappointment. To be great, Fits not with to be happy. Ah, base wretch, Who would have all or none ; what, then, is love ? A dream, a flitting dream. Shall the ship pause Because the breath of orange-groves comes sweet From some near siren isle ? What says my sire, A man whose heart for threescore years and ten Hath run the gamut of earth's joys and sorrows, And touched its every chord : " In man's short span He runs on many a hope. To-day 't is love That seems his only good ; to-morrow, knowledge ; A five year hence, pow'r and the chance to wield it ; A decade later all his thought is profit ; Then comes old age, and with it joys of ease, And life again in his posterity." 4O KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. It is the voice of wisdom, but alas ! What youth e'er gave it heed without the aid Of harsh experience. [A pause. Ah, what is life ! 'T is but a passing touch upon the world ; A print upon the beaches of the earth Next flowing wave will wash away ; a mark That something passed ; a shadow on a wall, While looking for the substance, shade departs ; A drop from the vast spirit-cloud of God That rounds upon a stock, a stone, a leaf, A moment, then exhales again to God. Enter CAMILLO, singing. My lady sits at her casement ; heatfn, how fair, how fair ! The jessamine vines about her Make halo round her hair : 1 see, and longing, lift in singing The joy and pain within me springing. My lady smiles from her casement ; She plucks a flow 1 r and stands, Holding it close to her bosom In two white tremulous hands : The songs I sing leap high and higher, Pleading like hungry flames of fire. My lady leans from her casement ; The flow' r has fell her kiss ; Body and soul I kneel to meet it, RISIFFS DAUGHTER. 41 The moment heaves with bliss, When lo ! she speaks, and " Love, to thee," She whispers, "far away on sea, This kiss, and this, and this" GIOVANNI. Brother, your mood is merry. CAMILLO. Sooth, why not ? Does not the sun shine ? Do I not fare well ? And have not all the prettiest girls in Florence Smiled on me from their casements ? Tut, Gio vanni, Like our famed grandsire, you are too ambitious, Your spirit is too broad. The hungry sea Hath need of all the stars to make it bright, A stream 's content with one. GIOVANNI. Ambitious ? I ? Well, yes, I am ambitious ; should I be A true Osaldi else ? The pow'r that shone From Ugo's martial front and made our name A trump to call all Tuscany to battle, Is not so dead that you or I can stand Upon the verge of war and not feel start The fine responsive blood. I would behold Our father smile again, and see thee sit High as our rank demands. CAMILLO, bitterly. Our rank ! 42 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. How now ! You sigh, Camillo, you upon whose youth The sun has shone and pretty maidens smiled. CAMILLO. Sigh ? Nay, not so, or if by chance I did, 'T was as the breezes sigh amid the blooms Of honeyed forests. Joy weighs hard as pain And oft-times owns a kindred language. GIOVANNI. True ; Yet now you sigh again, and if my ear Translates the tone aright, not joy but grief Speaks to the heart in that uneasy echo. If sorrow's tooth has touched your gaysome youth, It fits my love to know it. Speak and learn How light a grief can grow when shared by friend ship. CAMILLO. It is not much ; at least to your discretion 'T will not seem much. I love and love in vain. 'T is a boy's grief, why note it ? GIOVANNI. Love ? You love ? CAMILLO. Ay, but I said 't was nought ; spare me your mocks ; I know 't is folly, yet man lives by love, And folly makes the paradise of youth. RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 43 GIOVANNI. I mock ? And whom But no ; to ask thee that Were to intrude within the sacred spot Which each man holds most chary from his fellows The sacred human heart : I ask not that ; But why in vain, Camillo, why in vain ? Beauty like yours would start a tender thought Within a breast of stone ; why then in vain ? Are maidens' hearts so very hard to win ? CAMILLO. That I know not, Giovanni ; I but know This maid's was not if that the merriest eye Which e'er smiled mercy to a suppliant Spake truth in its soft language. But, alas ! In this hard world of place and circumstance Fate rears up other barriers to delight Than that of love repelled. I am no mate For this sweet damsel, or by thy proud code She is no mate for me. By rank a prince, I may not wed GIOVANNI. Well, well ? CAMILLO. A tradesman's daughter. Ah, I wot well you 'd start. GIOVANNI. If I did start It was with wonder at the impish tricks 44 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. With which fate mocks us men. A tradesman's daughter ! And you can love her and esteem yourself Rich if she smiles, and blest if you but wear Her beauty like a jewel on your heart. Well, well, this barrier to your rightful joy May prove less lofty than your fears imagine. Hast told our father ? CAMILLO. 'T were an effort lost ; I know his mind too well. GIOVANNI. Yet had'st thou told him CAMILLO. And heard my darling scorned ? Nay, nay ; my heart Is large enough for anguish, but too small To hug a shame within it. GIOVANNI. Humph ! and yet You dearly love her. CAMILLO. Love her ? Hear the whole. It was a day in June, and I who prize The song of birds and all those shy delights That hide within the forest's bosky glens, KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 45 Above the earthlier charms of street and mart, Was wandering in the vales without the town, When suddenly from out their ambient shade A creature stepped of such entrancing mien, I felt I ne'er in all my life before Had looked on mortal beauty. Young she was, And innocent as holy temples are Whose atmosphere is worship. Straight to knee I sank all trembling, soul and body both Acknowledging unwittingly their mistress ; But of what followed it were hard to tell, Since lapsed in joy, I scarce remember more Than that I heard her voice and felt the clasp Of her shy hand as from the wood's recess I led her to her fellows. Earth and air Had felt the touch of heav'n, and in the shock My dazzled spirit reeled. Nor of that hour When pricked to action by my love and longing I sought those woods again, and roaming, came Upon her musing by the streamlet's bank, A smile like heav'n upon her innocent mouth, And in her eyes that look which lifts the spirit Up as on wings of light, I may not speak. It is enough that when with late discretion I asked her name I GIOVANNI. Well? CAMILLO. Knew what despair was. 46 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. So, you forsook her ? CAMILLO. What was left to love Since fate and duty to our sire decreed I could not be her husband ? GIOVANNI. This was when ? CAMILLO. Some seven long weeks ago. It seems a lifetime. GIOVANNI. And you remember ? CAMILLO. Will I e'er forget ? GIOVANNI, after a pause. Brother, your case is not so lost to hope As it would seem. I may not tell you more, But if you '11 meet me at Risifi's villa Upon the eve of blessed Agnes day, You will yourself CAMILLO, falling back. Risifi ! then you know GIOVANNI. A merchant ? Yes, and, stranger still, may soon, Be pleased to know a merchant's lovesome daughter. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 47 CAMILLO. What secret is there here ? GIOVANNI. Ask not, but trust Your fate to Heav'n, and meet me as I 've said. Grim doom holds not such clutch upon our souls, But sometimes in this harsh, uneasy world, Our boldest wishes meet with strange fulfilment. SCEBTE IL A ralf izitkovt Florence. Huntsmais kants keard in the Enter GIOYAXXI and LEON. T is my last hunt. Through all the rousing din Of yon mad horns I hear the sound of trumps Calling me hence to battle. O the joy Of freedom to the soul that long hath lain Behind the bars of straitening circumstance ! Scarce can I bide the hour of my release, Mr heart calls so for action. LEON. And your bride ? The fair young maiden that awaits your troth- plight, Have you no thought for her ! GIOVAXXl. My bride ? Ah, Leon, My bride is fame. I have no heart to give To fairest -woman now. A shadow dwells Where once such hopes had birth. [Exter at a distane GrxzTRA, followed by BIAXCA. But who is this ? -- RISIFFS DA UGHTER. I know not, seignior, ret her beauty shows .~phant in these shades. Methinks her glance Makes the whole place to shine. GIOVAJfSl. Ah, heaven ! yes, yes. Leon, once since her face seen thus by chance Hath roused the passion of my manhood up, And filled my soul with homage. Hath stern fate Sent her this way to tempt me ? Let 's away ! I will not meet her look, her innocent look, So tender, yet so blithe. Risifi's daughter Hath claims upon me now that make such dreams A sinful madness. uox. What ! you love this stranger ? GIOVAXXL I love my honor. Let us hence, good Leon, For me the hunt is o'er. LEX3X. And this is life ! \Exnatt GIOVAXKI taut Lxox. I 'm weary, my Bianca, let us resL 50 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. BIANCA. Yes, lady, but not here. GINEVRA. And why not here ? BIANCA. The place is dark. I dread the chill which breathes From out these clustering boughs. GINEVRA. I feel no chill. I love this heavy shade, this brooding gloom ; My thoughts make light enough. I scarce could breathe For rising rapture, were there sunlight too. BIANCA. But lady GINEVRA. Nay, Bianca, cross me not. I see no shadows here. The place to me Is bright as summer and as sweet as June. Rich-blooded birds and flow'rs inch-deep with honey Hide in its soft recess ; while to my ears All the wild passion of a young joy pants In the quick tremble of its laughing leaves. BIANCA. And you enjoy such music ? RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 51 GINEVRA. Yes ; did'st doubt it ? Because I pinch your ears and steal your gauds And play you tricks and laugh from morn till night, Did'st think my spirit owned no deeper mood ? The maddest brook that trips it through the glen Has here and there along its joyous course Shy resting-places for its tired foot And spots for quiet musing. This is mine : Then leave me to my dreams. BIANCA. The girl who dreams In bow'rs like these where not a sunbeam dwells, Has sweetest mem'ries linked unto its gloom, Or such bright hopes they strike a color through Its darkest portals. Hast such mem'ries, lady ? GINEVRA, startled. I ? Yes, in sooth, of many a gaysome hour Spent at your side with lute or harp or book ; What other could I have ? But how ? You start. BIANCA. I thought I heard a step. GINEVRA, singing. You hear the winds at antic play, You hear the brooks sing roundelay, The flow 'rs you hear, coquetting, dear, But not 52 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. Nay, then I '11 quit my pranks, I cannot bide your frowns. You sigh for sunshine. Go, then ; I '11 join you soon. BIANCA. Upon the terrace ? GINEVRA. Yea, on the terrace. BIANCA. Good ! I will wait thee there. Only as you do love me, gentle lady, Linger not here too long. Remember, madam, That your good father hath some words of import To say to thee to-night. GINEVRA. I will remember. Pray they be words of joy. BIANCA. They are indeed ; [Aside. Or should be if some wandering dream of love Hath not made ruthless havoc with a soul We thought as free as air. [Exit. GINEVRA. The good Bianca ! as little doth she reck that happy accident hath already given to my ears the gist of her most wonderful secret, as that this son of the Osaldi, whom my father in his wisdom hath KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 53 seen fit to accept for my bridegroom, is that stranger to my eyes which they in their most fortunate igno rance seem to consider him. But fate is a gay trickster and plays mad pranks with us all. 'T is not the first time the untoward lifting of a curtain hath brought strange counsels to light. The young Osaldi ! Well, well, he is certainly a most exqui site gallant. His Good-day, lady, and his Good- even to you are flavored with the cream of per- fectest courtesy. Then, for a Tuscan, he hath also a certain comeliness ; but have I not sworn, in good-faith too, that I would not wed a Tuscan were he the best-made man in Italy ? Then there is his glance, which proclaims to my understanding that he loves me which same seems over-bold. But, then, his smile ! Well, for a smile it certainly does credit to his wit ; but I cannot live upon smiles, though if I could, I might consent to make a trial of his, and starve belike for my pains. [Muses. Enter CAMILLO. CAMILLO, aside. She 's here, and my heart's language hath not deceived me. Now if it be true, as my brother's words seem to betoken, that love and fortune await me on St. Agnes' Eve at the house of her father, it can be no treason to my future fate to breathe forth one breath of the passion that consumes me. [Aloud} Lady ? GINEVRA, aside. 'T is he. Now heart be still, and wit be all alert to hide my maiden shame. 54 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. CAMILLO, aside. She does not hear me ; or can it be that the mockery of her spirit hath obtained mastery over her tenderness ? I must determine. \_Advances. Fair lady, greeting ! A kiss for your sweet thoughts. GINEVRA. A kiss, Seignior Camillo ? That were a poor ex change for thoughts like mine ; so if it please you I will keep my thoughts and you your kiss ; and lest it should seem ungracious in me to give noth ing upon your asking, I will bestow upon you my most choice Good-day, and so leave you to your meditations. [Is about to withdraw. CAMILLO. You have the true generosity, lady ; you give away what it costs you the most to part from. Nay, rumple not your lip ; it is the truth, for all your pretty poutings. Convince me it is not. GINEVRA. Your pardon ; but that would take words, and words would take time, and time given to one of your persuasion would refute all my arguments on the face of them. CAMILLO. Well, lady, since it is your pleasure to be con sistent rather than happy, adieu. Had you stayed but so long as the bee pauses on an oleander blos som, you had heard JtlSIFI'S DAUGHTER. 55 GINEVRA. Buzzing, seignior ? CAMILLO. Yes, if by that word you would denominate vows of constancy and devotion. For I do greatly love you and would tell you so. GINEVRA. And for that you expect me to linger ! as though vows were new to my ears and words of love as strange to my understanding as tropical birds to the eyes of a Norseman. CAMILLO. If you do love me you will linger. GINEVRA. Yet if I do, be sure it is from some other motive than love. CAMILLO. So it be not from hate, I am contented. GINEVRA. To be contented with little proves you to be a man of much virtue. CAMILLO. When I have you, I am content with much. ? , v v , _. _- _ - .. - . - Hark! TJslat the mmt It L~ to kor A prettr naaa so MSB " - T ".""-" ' - ...... a. nri! so : V z r lat XISIFl'S DADGHTEJL 57 :OB nde, boi if i yow contesy yom '.'.~..''.' ' \'. ~."-.-. '.'.'.-.' "-'. . . " ~.--'-'-" " voald store to bear k. Yo are CAIOULO. Xo, lacj ; bat vfcat goes to make odaer sen's faces fair, goes to make my matt great. The -.:---_- : - - _ : - : - Faith, JOB are not akwe xa t^at. T dbe If- .: :: .: Bvf I vin alvars loie yo, CT'B to COGBVKA. I - - - 1* .-.j- .f , -A _ -^^i X>A^ Woukfst hare H coc here ad ke true to m j vtvd ? * " Have JOB tried them, srigBior, that JOB speak so IV. . -:-. ; ; -_ -_ - LI : N not rest ntfl I leara die name and qnality :: i^r :i.r zi^.i ~^:~ _^v _:n ^^5 f: .:__ .: ri to IBS vadoing. [Sea CAMTLXO a*/ GDTETXJL.] Ak, wnom hare we here? The lady by my life, hand vidt a gallant. AJi, my Gio- i was it tkat yon kislrard hence before :zi.r i: : _i._tti "~ ; _ ...::: :.-. t :: . : ~ T ? r tt: ._^_t. _ .";r ~-L..:,i" 2 _: .: ;? I mast see his face. Good hearen ! it ! I smefl trovble here. r: ;: : y:_:-- r ji.r :ri-:y :~ As .HSIC completes paiadise, h That she is doubly lost him. Wefl, wrfl, wrfl ! The fair Ginerra's Hrafnrr avast heal dte ' RISIFTS DA UGHTE*. : , 17. : .-- V: -: :-- :r _ii : - B1AKCA. Seignior, and yours. I seek my ji"***Hfi Bnstiess, The fair Ginerra, irhom I left bnt aov Amid these shadows. IXOJf. Hov ? Wkat uamc say yon ? B1A5TCA. Gmerra, sdgmor. UDBL Not The SSTTTH*, fafr II - T- : . : "_rs-r_ What? wnat? UBHL ^f^yyf know Aic lady K to ired The Coont Gioraaai ere Passes o'er Florence ? Tea, I kHNr it ; Her sire told me this OKB. Bat she knows nought- Went she this 60 JtlSIFI'S DAUGHTER. LEON. Yea, and her lover with her. BIANCA. Her lover ? Oh ! {Is about to rush away. LEON, detaining her. Lady, a word I pray you. Art sure she knew nought of her coming marriage When she strayed hence ? BIANCA. Most sure. Her father waits Ev'n now to tell her. O may Heav'n decree That tricksy Love lie close to-day and play No idle pranks with that gay heart of hers Before the hour be come. A lover, say you ? O I have stayed too long. {Exit. LEON. Run, run ! thy feet Will ne'er outspeed the winged boy you fear ! {Re-enter CAMILLO. Ah, but this youth must know he wrongs his brother In worshipping at this merry maiden's shrine. How speeds the day, Camillo ? {Advances. CAMILLO. Gayly, Leon. Joys that have quivered in the scale till now, Have over-balanced grief. I am a man Crowned for all time. The maid I love, loves me. Wot you of greater rapture ? KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 6 1 LEON. Hush, O hush ! Such words will sting you when you hear to whom This maiden's faith belongs. She is not yours Howe'er you love, or howsoe'er may she ; The husband destined for her by her sire Is not yourself, but CAMILLO. Hold ! not mine, this maiden ? O Leon, have you weighed the words of doom You toss so lightly towards me ? LEON. Fully, seignior; The fair Ginevra is no wayside flow'r To be plucked for the liking. Pride and power Rule o'er her sweetness and command her grace, And little as she recks the fate that waits her, All that she hath of charm in form and feature Is promised hence and [CAMILLO reels, LEON rushes forward. O my Camillo, Remember you 're a man. Be not o'ercome By youth's most common grief. The maid is fair, But so is Bisto's daughter, so the heir Of proud Colonna's house. There still are left Others as choice as she. CAMILLO. Others, Leon ? Love sees not others, Love sees but the one ; 62 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. And when that one is lost, proves false, or dies, The charm of life, its beauty and its worth, Fade with her from the world. LEON. Is love like this ? Well were it, then, you should not seek to snatch it From one you hold so near in your observance. CAMILLO. From one 7 hold so near ? What mean you, Leon ? O God, it is not LEON. Seignior ! CAMILLO. Not Giovanni ? Your silence does convict you. It is he, My brother, my own brother. LEON. But none knew You loved the maiden. CAMILLO. O believe it not ! Giovanni knew, else why his strict command To meet him in Risifi's halls this eve. Giovanni knew, and, filled with jealous pride, Bade Hope regain her seat within my breast That he might shame me 'fore the world and her. O cruel spite of joy ! O selfish heart ! XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 63 That, drunk with its own bliss, could rise and fling Its triumph in my face to make me mad. But let him look to it : I am no child ; He bids me to the feast, / will be there. [Going. LEON. But Seignior CAMILLO. Wait ; you are my faithful friend, True as my own heart's core. Let no man know I died but now to youth, and hope, and love. [Exit. LEON. He bears it ill. His looks proclaim his vengeance. Wert wisdom to give warning to Giovanni ? No, that were treason. But I '11 watch the lad, Follow his steps, and wait upon his moods, And be on hand to hinder any mischief. [Exit. Re-enter GINEVRA and BIANCA. GINEVRA. What words are these ? You mock me, good Bianca, Or I have heard amiss. BIANCA. Not so, not so. Your father waits but now to give you tidings Of your betrothal to Osaldi's heir. He whom you love is not Osaldi's heir ; Only the heir's young brother. 64 XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GINEVRA. And I live, I who should die ! BIANCA. Madam, be comforted. If Count Giovanni show a lesser grace Than the young gallant who has won your heart, He still is called a lordly gentleman, Noble and kind. A night of sober thought Will blast this transient fancy in your breast And fit you for your fate. GINEVRA. Never ! I feel it. These fancies, as you style them, my Bianca, That blossom to the heavens in a moment, Strike root as deep as is despair itself, In such a heart as mine. 'T will take a wrench Vigorous as that which twists the life-strings free To tear it hence. No pow'r save that of Heav'n Can e'er undo what this one hour has done, Alas, alas the hour ! BIANCA. Yet rest thee, lady. Who knows ; perchance thy father yet may please To grant thee thy desire. Is not Camillo Of blood as truly noble as his brother ? And is not your most honorable father Tender of her he loves ? RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 6$ GINEVRA. Ay, to a point, But he '11 ne'er brook a folly. To the wife Of Count Giovanni, heir to princely titles, He 'd give his heart for food ; but to the girl Who dared to cross his lifetime's one ambition, He 'd be as cruel as the Roman lord Who stabbed his daughter to her shuddering heart To save her from dishonor. BIANCA. Then, fair lady, Since this is so, 't were surely wisdom's part To take the fate which kindly Heav'n sends you, Prompt to accept its good. Too often, madam, We scorn the cup pressed iron-like to our lips, Which, if once tasted, would be found to teem With wine of heavenliest vintage. GINEVRA. Not this cup, Bianca. BIANCA. You have not tasted it. GINEVRA. I know, I know. BIANCA. Take courage, lady ; think that duty bears Perennial sweets, while joy blooms for a day. 66 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GINEVRA. I will, Bianca. Upon Duty, then, I fix my constant faith ; and since it runs Counter to joy, why, farewell youth's glad hopes ; Farewell the merry heart and laughing brow ; I have another business in this world Than to link hands with Pleasure. \Exeunt ACT IV. ACT IV. SCENE Vast hall in the Risifi villa. Pages "within. Enter ANTONIO. ANTONIO. Are all the candles lit ? Are the musicians ready ? Is every thing in train ? The curtains hang they fair ? Look to them, you, and hark you, sirrah, if I hear anon of so much lacking as a single candle, I will see you all beat from this hall to the street, before sunrising. I would have this day remem bered here in Florence, and by my steward's wand it shall be, or let me never feast another prince in rich Risifi's villa. [Enter PAULO. So you are come at last. What say you, man, Are all things well disposed ? Think you these rooms Will bear inspection ? Is there finish here ? A prince's eye is critical. What say you, then ; Look we like lords or no ? PAULO. Too much like lords And much too little like the men we are. Pah ! this display is odious. 69 /O XfSfFf'S DAUGHTER. ANTONIO. How ? how ? how ? What is amiss ? Do you not like these hangings ? They are the costliest to be found in Florence ; I hope they 're not amiss. PAULO. They are too new ; They smell too rank of the loom. ANTONIO. And yet they 're scented ; I had the choicest odors flung upon them, Where is your nose, man ? PAULO. In its place, Antonio ; Not flung half way in air like some I wot of. If you would save the lintels to the doors Lower your crest a space. A man would think The crowns of all broad Europe had been piled One on the other o'er that brow of yours, In toppling insecurity. PAGE. Is your new doublet Too narrow for your stomach that you puff so ? ANTONIO. Boy, to the scullions ! Do you criticise The man who caters to a noble prince ? RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 7 1 As for you, Paulo, were it not indeed That you 're a poor lean man unworthy greatness, We 'd measure swords for this. PAULO. Peace, peace, Antonio ; Doublets of such rare precious stuff as thine Are never strong. ANTONIO. How ? how ? not strong, my doublet ? He said my doublet ; here, you sirrah, you, Am I in trim ? What folly 't is in man To huff at a fool's babbling. \Page stumbles by with wine. Heav'ns, what damage now ? PAGE. Truth, good Antonio, if I might so speak, You wear your feet too large. ANTONIO. My feet ? too large ? You say too large ? What think you now, young sirrah ? Are they too large for this and this and this ? \Kicks him. PAGE. O ! O ! O ! O ! much too large : much, much, much ! \Exeunt. 72 RISIFI' S DAUGHTER. Enter RISIFI, OSALDI, GIOVANNI, URBINO, ZENO, and LEON. OSALDI. Seignior Risifi, to my mind this thing Shows but one face and that is, business, business. You give us gold, we give you rank, 't is done, The compact 's sealed, and compliment is useless. RISIFI. My lord, I would not weary you with words, But you mistake me here. Not as a churl, But as a host I offer you my welcome, Which as a guest you may receive, my lord, And never stoop were you the Duke himself. I never vaunt me of my bargains, Prince, Merchantman though I be. To a Risifi Success is boast enough ; the world is quick To spy out facts without a pointing finger, And this thing is a fact. Albeit a trader, I am as proud as any peer in Florence ; Let my lord rest content. OSALDI. Seignior, your wisdom Puts my old age to shame. Henceforth behold A prince of ancient lineage and fame Who sees his son, the heir to all his honors, Wed a Risifi and forbears to boast it. RISIFI. My lord says well ; 't is not a thing to boast of. . Dost think to ruffle me ? Do you not see DAUGHTER. 73 The more you stand upon your rank, my lord, The more I mount and mount ? Disdain my gold And scoff at him who sells his best for it, Not at the man who gives what you despise, To win the thing you hold in noblest favor. OSALDI. Seignior, as guest, I would refrain from answering Wit so acute. Zeno, your arm. URBINO, aside to RISIFI. Good master, Rouse not the old man's wrath too far, I pray, Lest he should break with you. RISIFI, aside to URBINO. He 'd break his old heart first. ZENO, aside to OSALDI. Wake not the slumbering tiger in his eye ; 'T is much too calm for safety. OSALDI, aside to ZENO. Never fear it. The man who 's touched the goal of his desire Quits not his hold so easy. ZENO. Prince, the lady ! URBINO. The lady, seigniors ! \Enter GINEVRA, attended by BIANCA and other ladies. 74 RISIFrS DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI, falling back. Saints of Heav'n ! LEON. How now, what moves you so ? GIOVANNI. 'T is she, my life's sole love, The fair sweet woman, who, though seen but once, Has, like a violet nestling in the shade, Bloomed in my constant memory. O boon Unhoped, unlocked for ! Gift of gracious Heav'n Where I expected nought ! But thus it is ; We pluck at roses and encounter thorns ; Clutch at life's thorns, and fill our hands with roses. RISIFI. Seignior Giovanni, in this simple maid You see my hope, my joy, my wealth, my pride : The one fair pearl dropped in my bosom's core By the rude wave that wrecked her gentle mother. You '11 find her pure and, though yet timorous, As duteous and as tender to your suit As fits her state of youthful modesty And years of unstained thought. Daughter, your hand Unto my lord ! GIOVANNI. Madam, my service to you ! In saying more, methinks I should say less ; RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 75 Before so gracious and so rare a presence Compliment must e'er stand dumb. GINEVRA. Seignior, I thank you. However small of wit to twist fair sense From unaccustomed words, I see in these Your kindness and your truth. GIOVANNI. Thy thanks, sweet lady, Make music in a bosom heretofore Unused to so divine a melody. LEON to BIANCA. She is a lovesome creature, but her face Hath hints of sorrow shadowing its bloom, Strange to behold in one so young and blithesome. BIANCA. Those who have lost their mothers unbetimes, Oft show these sad lines in their faces, seignior ; 'T is nature's mark that life's most precious boon Hath somehow missed them. LEON. So, if not The sign of present grief, I am content. The count is not a man whose nuptial cup Should hold one drop of secret bitterness. BIANCA. Is he so kind ? 76 XfSIFf'S DAUGHTER, LEON. The prince of gentlemen, Surpassed in mind by few, in worth by none ; In manner only by the blither grace Of his young brother. Were I lord of realms To which one well-beloved child were heir, I 'd ask of Heav'n no nobler husband for her Than our Giovanni. BIANCA. You speak strongly ; May her young graces equal your desire. GIOVANNI to GINEVRA. Lady, I would not startle your sweet soul Into a sudden passion. Not the wind But the soft sunshine best constrains the bud To ope its delicate leaves. Of all the words Of gentle courtesy and deep regard With which I come full laden to your side, I will but proffer one. Accept this, dear, The choicest of my store, the rose of speech, The sweet, I love you, which has been the gem Of every language since the first fond hour That woman's smile became a good man's heaven. GINEVRA. I am a plain man's daughter and scarce know What words are meet for him who shows such grace To one so far unworthy. But this love Springing so quickly up at duty's call RISIFI' S DAUGHTER. 77 GIOVANNI. So quickly ? Ah, 't is true you know not yet Aught of what gives to this betrothal hour Its true significance. Not at duty's beck, But in despite of duty, will, and time Have I your gentle image cherished here Within my heart of hearts. But, lady, hark ! The sound of music welling through the dance Dreams in the air like perfume hanging rapt Above its bed of bloom. If you will tread The coming measure, I will ease my soul Of its one secret, GINEVRA. Ah, and thou hast one. \They pass on. RISIFI and PRINCE advance. RISIFI. Look where the count and my young daughter go, With heads bent low like corn in harvest time. What say you, Prince, if I read rightly there This thing to them is aught but business, business. OSALDI. Seignior, my son is kind. \Draws off with ZENO. Too kind, by Heaven ! I like not yonder romance of soft looks, Low cooing murmurs and love-sick devotion, It suits not with our name. I 'd have him wed her, But love her ! 't is plebeian. Never yet Hath an Osaldi stooped to love a trades-girl. 78 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. ZENO. Yet is she a rare blossom,, noble Prince. OSALDI. Indeed I hope it. Would you have a man Stoop to the dust and not pick up a jewel ? [They pass on. Enter numerous guests, among them ANTONIO and PAULO.] ANTONIO. It takes a great heart to forgive, they say ; And why should I hang back ? There, man, my hand. PAULO. What means the cockatoo ? I came not here To prattle with a fool, but to behold For once a man of mark. Where is the Prince ? ANTONIO. May Heav'n ordain he 's safer than thy manners, Or he were lost indeed. Stay, is that he ? PAULO. Yon prancing, dancing jack-a-napes in yellow ? O certain by the rood, the Prince, indeed, If not Risifi's tapster. ANTONIO. Now in good sooth It is Risifi's tapster. By my soul, RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 79 But you have eyes, my Paulo ; not that mine Are not right serviceable and trusty servants Look at them else. PAGE. I know he has good eyes, for he has kicked me And never missed the spot. CONRADO, pointing out CLAUDO. Stay, here 's the Prince ! ANTONIO, advancing. Good Prince, most noble, great, and generous Prince, Your servant, Prince ! CLAUDO. Who is this fool ? ANTONIO. Fool ? fool ? PAULO. Easy, Antonio, this is Seignior Claudo, The city goldsmith. ANTONIO. Then the word is pat. He a prince, he ! A simple scullion boy Might have known better had he seen thy face, Good master Claudo. PAULO. Hush ! the Prince indeed. \Points out BEPPO. 80 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. ANTONIO. What ! yon poor rail without a gewgaw on him ? Yon peaked, plain, scrimped man in leaden hose ? If I were born so small I 'd hang myself But I would get more flesh. [Advances to BEPPO, saluting him profoundly. My gracious Prince ! Your servant, Prince. Doth my lord Prince need aught ? Are all his wants considered and supplied ? BEPPO, lending himself to the joke. How ! is this Antonio, my good Antonio, Chief caterer of Florence and the rightful lord Of this rare feast ? ANTONIO, bowing still deeper. My lord, you do me honor. [Aside.] Where are yon rascals ? They are ever off When a man gets his due. [Aloud] My lord, your will ? I hope my lord is satisfied with all ? BEPPO. Um ! so, so. You have done fairly if so be The wine is somewhat sour. ANTONIO. The wine sour ? sour ? XTSIFI'S DAUGHTER. 8 1 You surely jest, my lord. The wine ? How now, What mean you, sirrahs, hanging 'bout me thus ? Off to your duties, off ! BEPPO. The fruits are good, Though something scarce. ANTONIO. Good heavens ! [ To PAULO and the others. What ? about me still ? Have you nought else to do but eye my lord ? Away ! the noble Prince and I would converse. BEPPO. These hangings, as I take it, were put up Not at thy own suggestion. They 're too gay For taste refined as thine. ANTONIO. True, but Risifi Is sovereign here. He would have yellow, Prince. Will you walk "on ? PAULO. Nay, haste him not, Antonio. ANTONIO. How, Paulo, lingering still ? Come, I excuse thee. This fellow's service, Prince, is so devoted ; 82 KfSIFI'S DAUGHTER. Come, come, I have said go. [BEPPO laughs. Whose laugh is that ? Is Beppo here ? PAGE. I do not see him, seignior. ANTONIO. That was his laugh. My gracious Prince, your pardon, But you were saying BEPPO, laughing again. Man, don't you know me ? ANTONIO. Know you ? Now by my dudgeon if I live To doff this doublet I will deal you, sirrah PAULO. Come, come, the Prince ! the Prince ! ANTONIO. Prince me no more ; I 've had enough of princes. [Exeunt. Enter GIOVANNI and GINEVRA. GINEVRA. And you remember still ? GIOVANNI. Ay, lady, still. RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 83 GINEVRA. A face just lifted from the circling crowd And straightway lost again like some white wave Swallowed by sister billows ? GIOVANNI. Even so, GINEVRA, with agitation. And love me ? GIOVANNI. Love you ? O that words, weak words, Mere bubbles of the breath tossed out to die On every wayward breeze that frets the air, Are all I have to tell you, dear, how much. Love you ? My whole soul floats upon your smile As on a restless sea. I cannot breathe My natural breath in your sweet atmosphere But it does seem to catch a fairy fragrance. Love you ? My wild heart leaps unto my lips ; I love you so I scarce can say I love you. GINEVRA, shrinking. O God ! and I GIOVANNI. And you ? GINEVRA, advancing to the casement. Seignior, look forth ! Dost see yon orb of light that girt with power 84 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. Rides the still spaces of the firmament, Queen-like within her golden chariot ? One might in honor worship such a star Shining supreme upon the front of night, Nor bate him much from that high majesty Of self-respect that makes a man a man. But what of its reflection in the stream, That puny brilliance which with borrowed gleam Stares upward from the hollow of the wave Soulless and unsubstantial ? Lives there one On all this round of earth could stoop so low As to do homage there ? Yet, gentle seignior, The ideal you have loved is such a star, I but the weak reflection. GIOVANNI. Say you so ? Then are you heaven's high orb made low anc sweet For earthly service and companionship, And I the wave which holds your beauty shrined Deep in its cradling bosom. Ah, Ginevra, Too young to know that love asks small excuse Of worthiness for loving, let your smile But cross betimes my stern and iron path, And I will ask no other light on earth To guide my steps aright. For where love shines Ambition owns no pitfalls, fame no sting, Nor is it in hard disappointment's power To quite undo us. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 85 GINEVRA. Ah, it is too much ! You love me far too well. GIOVANNI. Ay, were my days Hung upon sport and dalliance ; but with war Sounding his eager clarion in my ear, His sword within my hand, and on my brow The shadow of the great to do and be Which runs before high fame, 't is saving grace To dote so well and fondly. O sweet angel ! Beacon of light to my long-harassed soul, What boon hath potent Fortune fair enough To win thee from me. When a dying wretch Will yield the cup that bubbles to his lip After long thirst and anguish, then will I Yield thee and perish. But you tremble, sweet one, The envious night wind wooing your fair cheek Hath chilled your gentle blood. Let us pass on. GINEVRA. No, no, 't is nought. I [aside] O to hear such words, And feel them strike my breast like blunted arrows. \_They pass on. Enter LEON and BIANCA. LEON. He 's here. But this same moment I perceived His form glide through the porch. If as I fear 86 KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. He comes to mar the feast with jealous rage, 'T were fit some warning of the same were given Unto my noble lord. Where is he, lady ? BIANCA. Yonder, with his betrothed. Ah, Seignior Leon, I fear your words' effect. He loves her truly, And she she might have peace had this young gallant Kept himself hence awhile. LEON. That were to find Judgment in youth and manhood's sternest virtue Ruling th' unchastened spirit of a boy. But to my task. Pray heav'n I quit me of it With wisdom and discretion. [Exit. BIANCA. I will follow ; Perchance my woman's wit may help the cause. [Exit. Enter GIOVANNI and LEON. GIOVANNI. You think I am too happy ? LEON. Nay, my lord, I think the maid too fair. A love that hath No surer basis than a winsome face Crumbles too oft to ruin. XIS/FI'S DAUGHTER. 8? GIOVANNI. So 't is said ; But, Leon, hast thou loved ? LEON. Not yet, my lord. GIOVANNI. Then listen. They who see her call her fair ; Say her smile pleases ; that her voice is soft ; Her cheek the home of blushes, light, and joy ; Her glance a shifting glory ; and her brow The throne of beauty and the seat of truth. But as for me, I can see nought of this. I do not know if she be fair or not. A blind man just restored to light, I ween, Would scarcely stop in looking at a rose To say that it was beautiful. I only know Her glance is revelation, and her smile A torturing delight. Her slightest move Wakes rapture in me. When I look at her I feel in that one instant all the reach The human soul can scale in depth and height, In ecstasy and pain ; so much I love her. LEON. Love ? love ? my lord has love ? he 's sure of it ? GIOVANNI. Sure of my love ? 88 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. LEON. Sure of the lady, seignior ; Women are so oft given to fickleness. GIOVANNI. Leon, dost see this sword ? It was my grandsire's, And on its very blade grim Honor sits As on a throne. I 'd rather wipe Its score of deeds and old-time memories Off in the base blood of a whining cur, Than soil my lips with bandying doubts of her Whom, loving, I would wed. LEON. My love for you Led me too far, my lord. I meant no evii. GIOVANNI. There, I believe it ; speak of it no more ; You are my very friend ; yet hark you, Leon, 'T is easier for a man to bear all shame, Anguish and wrong, than listen to a doubt Urged 'gainst a well-beloved woman's honor. Yet are you my own Leon. Friend, your brow Shows signs of watching. Had you dreams last night ? LEON. Yes, I had dreams, but ask not what they were Lest they should anger you. They were of her. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 89 GIOVANNI. Of her Ginevra ? You did dream of her And never tell me, Leon ? LEON. Good my lord ; It was of this I would have spoke when you GIOVANNI. No more. Tell me your dream. What was it, T.pon ? Leon ? LEON. My lord, I dreamed I saw her at the altar, A glorious, smiling bride. GIOVANNI. Yes, yes. LEON. I dreamed She was so beauteous that I stood and gazed Long on her speaking face, unknowing why My heart refused its joy, until I turned My eyes in following hers upon her bridegroom, And saw well, well, ask me not whom I saw It was not thou. O gentle seignior, pardon. GIOVANNI. Pardon for what ? For an unhallowed dream, Born of your restless fear ? Good Leon, listen. 90 XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. It is the fashion of our gallants here To harp on woman's frailty and fondness ; Until, to hear them talk, one scarce would think God had reserved himself a single jewel In his vast treasure-house of womankind, Untarnished and unflawed. This fashion, Leon, Hath evil in it past the ill it does To those we most should honor, for it leaves A dark spot in the mind where doubt, once gen dered, Wallows for evermore. I '11 none of it ; And, therefore, though you dream me dreams of hell, I '11 hold unto my faith in womankind As I hold on to God. The pure in heart Have right to trust in others' purity. LEON, aside. Ay, ay, 't is so. What man will dare to tell him That he who leans on fair Ginevra's faith Leans to his fall. Seignior, I say no more. Before such trust Suspicion hides her face, Abashed at her own daring. [Going. [Enter BIANCA. Ah, Bianca, My words have failed, may yours have better fortune. [Exit. BIANCA, aside. My words are tears ; what else befits the hour ? XfSZFZ'S DAUGHTER. gi GIOVANNI, thoughtfully drawing his sword. I said it was my grandsire's ; I said well ; I saw his cheek flush and the quick thrill run The length of his man's frame such virtue dwells On the high front of fame to startle men. Ah, noble sword, what fortune lies before thee In my untutored hands ! Will high Renown Leap with thy flash as in the days of yore ? And proud-eyed Victory run to kiss thy edge Before the day be done ? We may not know ; We can but hope and trust. [Sees BIANCA. Ah, gracious lady, Your pardon for my daring ! Naked steel Hath little business here. BIANCA. True, true, then sheath it Nay, seal it to thy scabbard. Wrong and loss Are not to be thus met. GIOVANNI. Wrong and loss ? Enter at the back CAMILLO and GINEVRA in tender converse. BIANCA. Ay, ay, look there, but do not draw your sword ; Let Heav'n avenge thee here. [Exit. 92 KISIFI'S DA UGHTER. GIOVANNI. What do I see ? My brother my betrothed hand clasped in hand Face turned to face his full of grief and worship, While hers [staggering back] O heav'n ! what is this doom I see Shadowing upon me from the seat of bliss I reckoned all my own ! GINEVRA to CAMILLO. No more. Since Fate Has pledged me to your brother, speech twixt us Is well-nigh treason. CAMILLO. Yet such speech must be. I am no boy to yield my treasure up Without an effort to arrest the hand That seeks to rob me. If Giovanni knew GIOVANNI, coming forward. If? Does he not ? Can one stand witness here And not know ? GINEVRA. Count Giovanni ! [ Turns to fly. GIOVANNI. Stay ! a word To make all sure. Brother, is this fair woman, KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 93 Whom but a moment since I thought my own, She whom you told me of a week agone ? CAMILLO. The same, alas ! GIOVANNI. Not some fair semblance simply, Like her in feature, form, or circumstance, But she, herself, the rich Risifi's daughter ? CAMILLO. Ay, brother, she herself. GIOVANNI. Oh ! they spake well Who said the brightest morns brought heaviest days. [ Turning towards her but not looking at her. Lady, you know this boy ; have seen him oft, And mind his features well. Is it, then, he Who holds the star, while I the weak reflection ? If not, speak, speak, and I will risk my all To make you mine indeed. \A paused} Ye powers that wait On mortal souls, gird up my heart to bear This heavy silence ! [Another pause. ~\ What, quite still ? No word, No whisper light as air or dying breath, To bid Giovanni hope ? Ah, well ; thus sinks The ship full freighted in the hollow sea, Leaving no sign behind ! 94 XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. CAMILLO. Brother ? GINEVRA. Giovanni ? GIOVANNI. Lady, I ne'er have been a happy man. Gaunt care and circumstance have warped my life In youth's first prime. If with the sight of thee Some wandering beam of hope found passage through Life's darkness to my heart, 't was God's good gift Whose loss I '11 not bemoan. If ye two love Ye shall be happy. It is not for me, A man past youth's first flush, to coldly stand A shadow on the threshold of your joy. CAMILLO. And thou ? GIOVANNI. And I ? [A pause. When in the heat of sounding battle-fields A soldier stands, black danger in his path, And in his hand the sword to make that danger Shrink at his feet appalled, one does not ask If joy or sorrow nerves the arm that wrests Proud victory from the foe. It is enough The heart is steady and the arm is steel ; High fame inquires no more. O thou great Power That broods above the smoky ranks of war, RISIFI 'S DAUGHTER. 95 To thee henceforth I dedicate my soul ! In thy huge volleyings hear the voice of love, And from the blaze of thy high beacon fires Snatch, like Prometheus, the living flame To feed my soul anew. While Honor calls, Despair cries out in vain. [Rushes forth. [Enter RISIFI, meeting him. He is followed by OSALDI, ZENO, URBINO, and others.] RISIFI. Hold ! why this haste ? And yon pert stripling by my daughter's side Who may he be, my lord ? GIOVANNI, returning. One who now holds Right prior to me here. My brother, seignior ; The noblest of our race, a youth in whom All truest virtues live, and furthermore He whom high Heav'n ordains to wed your daughter. RISIFI. He ? This slim boy ? And you, Giovanni, you, Who but an hour ago received her hand From me in fair betrothal ? GIOVANNI. I am a soldier ; The sweets of love and fair domestic joys Are not for me. 96 RISIFI 'S DAUGHTER. RISIFI. And by what right, my lord, Do you adjudge them with my daughter here Unto this stripling, though he be your brother ? Is he by chance, for all his beardless lip, Elder than you in years ? GIOVANNI. No. RISIFI. Then, by heaven, I know no law or human or divine That can ordain him to espouse my child, Betrothed but now to thee. CAMILLO. Yet is there one. RISIFI. Ha ! would'st thou speak ? CAMILLO. A law which none may break, In this rough world of few and fleeting joys, Without such penalty as Nature asks From those who cross her will the law of Love. RISIFI. Love ! 'T is the prate of fools. I know not love ; Nor does my daughter, hedged about and in RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 97 As she hath been from earliest infancy ; Or, if by chance the watchfulness of years Has been in vain, and by some loop-hole small The Devil has crept in, what pow'r hath that To make me yield my will. I 'd have her princess, And princess shall she be, or die a maid. CAMILLO. O mad ambition ! GINEVRA. Struggle not with it ; Our doom is fixed, all words will be in vain. ZENO to GIOVANNI. You are a prince ; take that which is thine own And cease this foolish strife. GIOVANNI. It may not be. Seignior Risifi,.on thy yea or nay Rests this young maiden's life. For love is life, And loss of love is death. Is her sweet being Less to your fatherhood than hope of rank ? Her happiness and honor, peace and joy, Smaller than satisfaction of a wish Never called holy, never born in heaven, But gendered in the bosom of that angel Who sold himself for pride ? I cannot think it ; The strong surprise of this quick change has turned Your fatherhood awry. A moment's thought Will bring its own repentance. 98 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. RISIFI. Say you so ? Then know you not Risifi. Sooner far The sun shall turn its back upon the east And trample out its own refulgent steps Than I yield up my purpose. But enough ! If one short hour has wearied your young blood Of charms once thought so bounteous and rare, Leave her and go thy way ; I urge no man Against his will ; but talk not to my age Of what its duties are, nor in the shame Of your own treason, fetch this stripling here To gloss o'er your default. GIOVANNI. Seignior, my griefs Needed no added sting. If she were free, Naught that the world affords of pomp or power Could win her from my arms. But she 's not free, And I who hold that honor's springs lie deep Beneath all selfish yearning, yield her up To joys more truly hers. RISIFI. 'T is well ; the son Of Uzzi's lord will thank you. GIOVANNI. Uzzi? RISIFI' S DA UGHTER. 99 RISIFI. Ay, Dids't think such charms as hers had tipped the scale Against your pride alone ? CAMILLO. But Uzzi, seignior ? It is a villain brood. RISIFI. It is a lord's. GIOVANNI. O this is horrible ! CAMILLO. Most horrible. Can'st look upon this sacrifice, Giovanni ? GIOVANNI. I? CAMILLO. She is young ; her years lie long before her ; Save her from this hard fate and take my thanks. GIOVANNI. What, would you tempt me with that thought again ? IOO RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. CAMILLO. 'T is no temptation, 't is thy rightful due. Whate'er may chance, I ne'er may hope to wed her, Then why not thou ? GIOVANNI. True, true, then why not I ? URBINO to RISIFI. He yields, Risifi ; urge him but a jot And all is yours again. RISIFI. I urge no man Against his pleasure. If my daughter's charms Lack power to hold him to his plighted vow, Shall words of mine prevail ? GIOVANNI. O God ! 't is hard. RISIFI. And is that all, my lord ' GIOVANNI, with effort. All, all, alas ! RISIFI. Then are we quits. Urbino, to the doors ! Let our guests know that in a fortnight hence We celebrate our union with Count Uzzi. KISIFI'S DA UGHTER. IQI GINEVRA. O no, no, no, that were to die indeed ! \Fallsat GIOVANNI'S/^/. Save me, Giovanni, save me from a fate Too dreadful for my strength. GIOVANNI. What ! do you plead ? heaven, this is too much ! Rise, lady, rise, 1 may not see thee thus. GINEVRA. Nor may I rise Until you grant my suit. GIOVANNI. And what is that ? GINEVRA, timidly. Most graciously to wed me, seignior. GIOVANNI. Wed thee ? O God ! O God ! And could'st thou wed me, lady, Be my pledged wife and not behold in dreams The younger, brighter, dearer face of him Who stands there in despair ? Look at him, lady, Mark well his face, his beauty, and his love, And tell me, by the heavens which bend above us, Could you do this ? 102 JRISIFI'S DA UGHTER. GINEVRA, wildly. I know not ; ask me not. My thoughts are all in tumult. GIOVANNI. Thou could' st not j I see it in thy fond and failing eye Which droops before his gaze. Would'st have me wed The lover of another ? Friends, farewell ; I have no other business in this place. [Going. RISIFI. And now to fresh betrothals ! Sound the lute And let the dance whirl on. [ Trumpet heard without. Ha ! what is that ? [Enter Messenger. MESSENGER. A summons from the Duke to Count Giovanni, Captain by right of birth and monies promised Unto the cause of war. [GIOVANNI advances, takes the paper offered, is about to open it, but suddenly stops, looks at RISIFI, and drops /'/.] RISIFI. By monies promised ! My lord, have you such monies ? XISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 103 GIOVANNI. No, seignior, no. I had forgot to whom I was beholden For ev'n the chance to die. RISIFI, pointing to the packet. Then let it lie Till Uzzi comes to lift it. [GIOVANNI starts forward, but instantly recovers himself.] GIOVANNI. Nay, 't is true. My captaincy is gone with this child's love, All, all in one quick breath. ZENO. Nor that alone ; Thy house, thy father, thy young brother too, Sink in the ruin with thee. OSALDI. Ah, 't is so, 't is so, Our house is fallen ! All my hopes but served To lift its misery plainer into view For all men's mockery. ZENO. Draw thy sword, Giovanni, Thy grandsire's sword that was to carve our way To reinstatement. Can'st thou look on it IO4 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. And not recall the hopes its mem'ries gave, The day you drew it first ? GIOVANNI. Zeno, no more. CAMILLO. And this dear maiden whom you love so well. Look at her, brother ; can you see such beauty Flung to an Uzzi's keeping ? GIOVANNI. Cease, O cease ! Man's heart can bear no more. Whate'er betides, Uzzi stays hence. Forth to the courier, man ; Bid him acquaint the Duke that e'er to-morrow His captain will be there. ZENO. I live again. OSALDI. And I, who thought to leave my aged bones Upon this hostile floor. GIOVANNI. And thou, Camillo ? CAMILLO. My highest love cries Ay, howe'er my heart Bleeds at its heavy loss. RISIFI' S DAUGHTER. 105 GIOVANNI. Brother, I love thee. Remember this when from the field of war Ginevra's bridegroom brings the bays of fame To crown his wreath of love. CAMILLO. I will remember. [GIOVANNI turns to depart. RISIFI. Whither would'st go, my lord ? GIOVANNI. To seek a priest Who '11 bind this knot at once. RISIFI. I '11 seek him, seignior ; Thy place is at her side. \Exit. GIOVANNI to GINEVRA. Sweet, may I take it ? [She gives him her hand. Thanks, dearest lady ; may the happy man Who calls thee wife love thee but half as well As he you honor thus. Father, your blessing. OSALDI. You have it, son, poured out as full and free As though you were the only hope I had. And this thy top-most hour. 106 RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. Brother but no ! Confession must be made ere marriage vows, And lo ! here conies the priest. \Enter RISIFI with a priest. Ah ! holy father, Wilt shrive me ere you wed me ? PRIEST. Gladly, son. [GIOVANNI, lifting the curtain from before a small closet.] In, then, and may high Heav'n rain dews of joy Upon the hearts I leave here. [Exit slowly, looking at GINEVRA LEON. What means this shudder ? I feel as though mine eyes had seen his ghost. ZENO. And I ; yet all is well. 'T is but his grief At robbing his young brother of the love So suited to his years. OSALDI. O Zeno, Zeno ! How like his mother did he look but now. Should there be aught amiss ! RISIFI'S DAUGHTER. 1 07 RISIFI, aside. I wished it, yet My blood runs cold within me. GINEVRA to BIANCA. Were it wrong To cast one farewell glance at him I loved Before this duty claimed me ? BIANCA. It were not wise But . [A cry within.'] What is that ? \Enter the priest hurriedly. PRIEST. Death ! death ! The noble count Hath turned his sword against his own brave heart, And all is over. OSALDI. O my mastering fears ! LEON, rushing and dragging aside the curtain from before the closet. My lord ? CAMILLO. Giovanni ? OSALDI. Ah, my son, my son ! 108 XSSIFf'S DAUGHTER. GIOVANNI. Hush, it is done. My sword has cut the knot That baffled all our skill. Camillo, brother, You love this gentle child ? CAMILLO. I ! O thou know'st. GIOVANNI. Then take her hand in thine. I 'm dying, brother, And you are now the heir. But these have said Osaldi's heir should wed Risifi's daughter ; Dost comprehend me now ? CAMILLO. O brother ! brother ! GIOVANNI. No words, your hands thine, lady, thine, Ca millo What, have I lost my sense ? I do not feel The touch of thine, Camillo. CAMILLO. 'T is too awful. GIOVANNI. No, now. KISIFI'S DAUGHTER. IOQ RISIFI. Give him thy hand. Would 'st kill him twice and make the girl a widow Before her sixteenth year ? [CAMILLO gives his hand. GIOVANNI. So, you will love each other. Friends, lift me up. A light, there on her face ! I 'd see her once again. So, so. [Sinks back. LEON. O live, Giovanni ! GIOVANNI starting to his feet and standing. No, die ! [Falls back dead. THE END. 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