S2Z. |84T OAK ST. HDSF The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN L161 — 0-1096 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of liiinois Urbana-Champaign Aiternates https://archive.org/detaiis/faziooritaiianwiOOmiim No. H. MODERN STANDARD DRAMA. FAZIO: ^ ^^rageb'g, IN FIVE ACTS. BY REV. H. H. MILMAN. FROM THE author’s LATEST EDITION. With ithe Stage Directions, Description of Costumes, &c. NEW- YORK: PUBLISHED BY BERFORD & CO., NO. 2 ASTOR HOUSE. PRICE .12^ CENTS. s < # \ * I;-'. ' : V^ ■% II. MODERN STANDARD DRAMA. EDITED BY EPES SARGENT, Authou of “Velasco, a Tragedy,” Sec. FAZIO: Oil, THE ITALIAN WIFE: A Cragelin. IN FIVE ACTS. BY THE REV. H. H. MILMAN. WITH STAGE DIRECTIONS, AND COSTUMES, MARKED AND CORRECTBfi BY J. B. ADDIS, PROMPTER. NEW YORK: BERFORD & CO., No. 2 ASTOR HOUSE. 1847. EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. Henry Hart Mil man, the author of Fazio, and many Jther works, poetical and historical, was bom in London, February 10th, 1791 ; and was the youngest son of Sir Francis Milman, a physician of eminence. After passing line years at Eton, our poet went to Oxford, at which Jniversity he obtained the greatest number of prizes that wer fell to the lot of one individual. Some of these vere for English and some for Latin compositions. In the year 1817, Mr. Milman entered into holy orders, nd in 1821, he was elected professor of poetry in the Jniversity, an office, which, we believe, he still continues D hold. The works by which he was first distinguished /ere principally poetical ; and of these Fazio’’ was the rst. It was followed by The Fall of Jerusalem,’* Samor, an heroic poem,” Anne Boleyn,” “ The Mar- jrr of Antioch,” and other productions evincing great rarnatic ability and a chastened taste. Of late years, his ibours appear to have been of a different character. He as contributed largely to the Quarterly Review; and is « History of the Jews,” and ‘‘Notes to Gibbon’s decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” have given him high rank as a historian. vi The play of ‘‘ Fazio” was written while Mr. Milman was at Oxford, and was published somewhere near his twenty-fifth year. It found its way upon the stage with- out his interference, and indeed without his consent being in any single instance solicited. “ Its first appearance,” says the author, was, I believe, at the Surrey Theatre, where it was brought forward under the name of ‘ The Italian Wife,’ and it had been acted some time before I was aware that the piece of that name was my work. That theatre was then, I believe, only licensed for operatic performances, but the company con- trived to elude this restriction by performing all kinds of Dramas with what they called a musical accompaniment Every now and then the string of a solitary violin waj heard, when the actors went on in their parts without th( slightest regard to the said accompaniment, and so repre sented any regular drama which might suit their purpose It was in this manner that I first saw the performance oi Fazio, but I remember that the actress, who personate^ Bianca, was by no means deficient in power, and onl; wanted a better audience to improve her taste. Fazi; was afterwards acted with complete success at Bath, anj this, I believe, inclined the managers of Covent Garden tj bring it forward on the London stage. This was doit without even the common courtesy of giving me notice i, their intention. The first information which I receive on the subject, was the request of Mr. C, Kemble, wit whom I was then but slightly acquainted, through my int mate friend, his gifted sister, Mrs. Siddons, to permit hii to read the part of Fazio to me.” The play is founded on a story, which was quoted i vii tho Annual Register for 1795, from the Varieties of Literature but great liberties have been taken with it. Some of the materials employed in it may also be found among the tales of Boccacio. Miss O’Neill first made the reputation of Fazio as an acting drama by her impressive acting in Bianca. This part was afterwards performed with great success both in En- gland and the United States, by Miss Kemble, whose per- sonation of the character must ever live in the remembrance of those who had the good fortune to witness it. Indeed, few parts, in the whole range of the British drama, afford such a scope for the exercise of the powers of a tragic actress of great genius. Intense as are the passions de- picted, there is nothing overstrained in the language and sentiments, to which the frenzied wife gives utterance. The heart of a popular audience sympathises with her deeply and painfully throughout. Fazio” is no less worthy of admiration in the closet vhan it is deeply interesting in the represeutation. It will, ;e believe, long be regarded as one of the most felicitous dramatic productions, that have infused hope and life into the stage since the Shakspearian era. CASX OF CHARACTERS. _ , , ‘P'"'*. 1832.‘ Park, 1846. Bufe! of Florence Mr. Clarke. Mr. Stark - inderaon. : :: sprag„e. “ ;; “ Bar^T'*- fkaario ."I.'.'."’'."”";”";;.":;;;; .. FivSnT' •• s' Theodore * * * n tt ^ * Sutherland Jtofi^o Harvey. , « M‘ Douall. pieroZ::::::: “ “ Nexaen Ma«hew,. Miss Fanuy Kemble. Mrs. Mowatt. Mrs. Durie. Miss Hall. Senators, Guards, ifc. , * Miss Fanny Kemble’s first appearance in America. COSTUMES. FAZIO.— First drees : Brown doublet and trunks, trimmed and pulfed with black fiat and stockings to match; brown Spanish cloak.— tSccowrf dress : Light-coloured tunic with gold embroidery, white pantaloons, russet boots, hat and feathers.— Third dress : Similar to first. BARTOLO. — Dark-coloured doublet and trunks, dark breeches, and hat. DUKE.— Velvet dress of crimson or lilac, with purple robe, richly embroidered w ith gold ; velvet cap and feather. GONSALVO and AURIO.— Scarlet gowns trimmed with ermine, amLblack caps. ’iHEODORE and ANTONIO. — Fancy-coloured jackets, blue silk sashes, buff pan^ taloons, russet boots, round hats and plumes. PIERO. — Gray doublet, trimmed, trunks and stockings. PHILAI^O, FA^^ETTO, and DANDOLO. — After the style of Fazio’s second dress, but of different colours. BIANCA.— First dress : Slate-coloured robe trimmed Avitli black velvet, with a gir- dle of the same . — Second dress: Rich satin dress, with a purple flowing robe em- broidered with gold . — Third dress : Similar to the first. ALDABELLA.— White satin dress with straw-coloured silk boddice and train richly ornamented with gold and silver, CLARA.— Plain white dresa EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 8. B. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. RELATIVE POSITIONS. B., means l,.,Left- C., Centre ; S- C., Right of Centro; L. C Left of Centre^ Passages marked with Inverted Commas, are usnally omitted in tht representation. FAZIO: ■% SCrageJrg. A C T I. Scene I . — A Room with cntcihles and apparatus of AL* chymy. Enter Fazio and Bianca, r. Faz, (r. c.) Why, what a peevish, envious fabulist Was he, that vowed cold wedlock’s atmosphere Wearies the thin and dainty plumes of love ; That a fond husband’s holy appetite. Like the gross surfeit of intemperate joy. Grows sickly and fastidious at the sweets Of its own chosen flower ! My own Bianca With what delicious scorn we laugh away Such sorry satire ! Bian» ( l . c. ) Which of thy smooth books Teaches this harmony of bland deceit ? « Oh, my own Fazio ! if a serpent told me That it was stingless in a tone like thine, I should believe it. Oh, thou sweetly false ! That at cold midnight quitt’st my side to pore O’er musty tomes, dark sign’d and character’d O’er boiling skellets, carucibles and stills, Drugs and elixirs. Faz, Ay, chide on, my love ; The nightingale’s complaining is more sweet. 10 FAZIO. [Acnr 1 Than half the dull unvarying birds that pipe Perpetual amorous joy. — Tell me, Bianca, How long is’t since we wedded ? Bian, Would’st thou know The right and title to thy weariness 1 — Beyond two years. Faz, Days, days, Bianca ! Love Hath in its calendar no tedious time, So long as what cold lifeless souls call years. Oh, with my books, my sage philosophy. My infants, and their mother, time slides on So smoothly, as ^twere fall’n asleep, forgetting Its heaven-ordained motion. We are poor ; But in the wealth of love, in that, Bianca, In that we are eastern sultans. I have thought. If that my wondrous alchymy should win That precious liquor, whose transmuting dew Makes the black iron start forth brilliant gold. Were it not wise to cast it back again Into its native darkness ] Bian, Out upon it ! — Oh, leave it there, my Fazio ! leave it there !— I hate it ! ’Tis my rival, ’tis thy mistress ! Ay, this it is that makes thee strange and restless, A truant to thine own Bianca’s arms, This wondrous secret. Faz, Dost thou know, Bianca, Our neighbour, old Bartolo ? Bian, O yes, yes That yellow wretch, that looks as he were stain’d With watching his own gold ; every one knows him, Enough to loathe him. Not a friend hath he. Nor kindred nor familiar ; not a slave. Not a lean serving wench ; nothing e’er entered But his spare self within his jealous doors. Except a wandering rat ; and that, they say. Was famine-struck, and died there. — What of him ) Faz, Yet he, Bianca, he is of our rich ones : There’s not a galliot on the sea, but bears A venture of Bartolo’s ; not an acre, Nay, not a villa cf our proudest princes, Scene I.J FAZIO. 11 But he hath cramp’d it with a mortgage ; he, He only stocks our prisons with his debtors. I saw him creeping home last night : he shuddered As he unlock’d his door, and looked around As if he thought that every breath of wind VV ere some kv^en thief : and when he lock’d him in, I lieard the grating key turn twenty times, To try if all were safe. I look’d again From our high window by mere chance, and saw The motion of his scanty moping lantern ; And, where his wind-rent lattice was ill stuffed With tattered remnants of a mojiey-bag. Through cobwebs and tliick dust k^pied his face, Like some dry wither-boned anatomy, Through a huge chest-lid, jealously and scantily [Jplifted, peering upon coin and jewels. Ingots and wedges, and broad bars of gold, ITpon whose lustre the wan light shone muddily, As though the New W^orld had outrun the Spaniard, And emptied all its mines in that coarse hovel. His ferret eyes gloated as wanton o’er them, As a gross Satyr on a sleeping Nymph ! And then, as he heard something like a sound, lie clapp’d the lid to, and blew out the lantern. And I, Bianca, hurried to thy arms, And thanked my God that I had braver riches. Blan. Oh, then, let that black furnace burst ! dash down Those ugly and mis-shaijen jars and vials. Nay, nay, most sage philosopher, to-night. At least to-nig]it, be only thy Bianca’s. [She clings to him, Faz. f Looking fondly on her.) Why, e’en the prince of bards was false and slanderous. Who girt Jove’s bride in that voluptuous zone, Ei'e she could win her weary lord to love : While my earth-bom Bianca bears by nature An ever-blooming cestus of delight ! Bian. So courtly and so fanciful, my Fazio ! Which of our dukes hath lent thee his cast poesies ? Why, such a musical and learned phrase Had soften’d the marches a, Aldabella, That high signora, who once pamper’d thee 13 FAZIO. [AotL Almost to madness with her rosy smiles ; And then my lady queen put on her winter, And froze thee till thou wert a very icicle, Had not the lowly and despised Bianca Shone on it with the summer of her pity ! Faz. Nay, taunt not her, Bianca, taunt not her! Thy Fazio loved her once. Who, who would blame Heaven’s moon, because a maniac hath adored it, And died in his dotage ? E’en a saint might wear Proud Aldabella’s scorn, nor look less heavenly. Oh, it dropp’d balm upon the wounds it gave ; The soul was pleased to be so sweetly wrong’d, And misery grew rapturous. Aldabella ! The gracious ! the melodious ! Oh, the words Laugh’d on her lips ; the motion of her smiles Shower’d beauty, as the air-caressed spray The dews of morning ; and her stately steps Were light as though a winged angel trod Over earth’s flowers, and feared to brush away Their delicate hues ; ay, e’en her very robes Were animate and breathing, as they felt The presence of her loveliness, spread around Their thin and gauzy clouds, ministering freely Officious duty on the shrine where Nature Hath lavish’d all her skill. Bian, A proud loose wanton ! Faz. She wanton ! — Aldabella loose ! — Then, than Are the pure lilies black as soot within. The stainless virgin snow is hot and rancid. And chastity — ay, it may be in heaven. But all beneath the moon is wild and haggard. If she be spotted, oh, unholiness Hath never been so delicately lodged Since that bad devil walk’d fair Paradise. Bian. Already silent % Hath your idol quaff’d Enough of your soft incense ? Fazio ! Fazio ! But that her gaudy bark would aye disdain The quiet stream whereon we glide so smooth, I should be fearful of ye. Faz. Nay, unjust 1 Ungenerous Bianca ! who foregoes, ScKNi: 1 ] FAZIO. 13 For the gay revel of a golden harp, Its ecstacies and rich enchanting falls, His own domestic lute’s familiar pleasing ? But thou, thou vain and wanton in thy power. Thou know’st canst make e’en jealousy look lovely, And all thy punishment for that bad passion Be this — [ Kisses her ] — Grood night ! — I will but snatch a look How the great crucible doth its slow work. And be with thee ; unless thou fanciest, sweet. That Aldabella lurks behind the furnace ; And then, Heaven knows how long I may be truant. [Exit Bianca, r. Faz, (r. c. solus.) Oh, what a star of the first magnitude Were poor young Fazio, if his skill should work The wond’rous secret your deep-closeted sages Grow grey in dreaming of ! Why, all our Florence Would be too narrow for his branching glories ; It would o’erleap the Alps, and all the north Troop here to see the great j)hiiosopher. He would be wealthy too — wealthy in fame ; And that’s more golden than the richest gold. [A groan withouU Holy St. Francis ! what a groan was there ! Ear. ( Without ). Within there ! — Oh ! within there, neighbour ! Death ! Murder, and merciless robbery ! Fazio opens the door— Enter Bartolo. Faz, What ! Bartolo ! Bar, Thank ye, my friend ! Ha ! ha ! ha! my old limbs ! 1 did not think them half so tough and sinewy. St. Dominic ! but their pins prick’d close and keen. Six of ’em, strong and sturdy, with their daggers, Ticklinor the old man to let loose his ducats ! o Faz, Who, neighbour, who ! Bar, Robbers, black crape-faced robbers. Your only blood-suckers, that drain your veins, And yet their meagre bodies aye grow sparer. They knew that I had moneys from the Duke, But I o’erreach’d them, neighbour : not a ducat, B 14 FAZIO. [Act I Nay, not a doit, to cross themselves withal. Got they from old Bartolo. Oh, I bleed I And my old heart beats minutes like a clock. Faz, A surgeon, friend ! Bar, Ay, one of your kind butchers, Who cut and slash your flesh for their own pastime, And then, God bless the mark ! they must have money ! Gold, gold, or nothing ! Silver is grown coarse, And rings unhandsomely. Have I ’scaped robbing, Only to give ] Oh there ! there ! there ! Cold, cold, Cold as December. Faz. Nay, then, a confessor ! Bar. A confessor ! one of your black smooth talkers, That drone the name of God incessantly, Like the drear burthen of a doleful ballad ! That sing to one of bounteous codicils To the Franciscans or some hospital ! Oh ! tliere’s a shooting ! — Oozing here ! — Ah me. My ducats and my ingots scarcely cold From the hot Indies ! Oh ! and I forgot To seal those jewels from the Milan Duke ! Oh ! misery, misery ! — Just this very day. And that mad spendthrift Angelo hath not sign’d The mortgage on those meadows by the Arno. Oh ! misery, misery ! — Yet I ’scap’d them bravely. And brought my ducats ofl’l [Dies Faz. Why, e’en lie there, as foul a mass of earth As overloaded it. ’Twere sin to charity To wring one drop of brine upon thy corpse. In sooth. Death’s not nice-stomach’d, to be crammed With such unsavoury offal. What a god ’Mong men might this dead wither’d thing have been, That now must rot beneath the earth, as once He rotted on it ! Why, his wealth had won In better hands an atmosphere around him, Musical ever with the voice of blessing, — Nations around his tomb, like marble mourners, Vied for their pedestals. — In better hands ? Methinks these fingers are nor coarse nor clumsy. Philosophy ! Philosophy ! thou’rt lame And tortoise-paced to my fleet desires ! seem a shorter path to fame and riches. clusters at me ickhng my timorous and withdrawing grasp — • T " ^ reckoning. To-morrow, ^ t that It find me poor, will write me fool ind myself be a mock unto myself. ^y, and the body murder’d in my house I SciwlTof^hp loathsome insects- uspicion 1 . of the quickest and the keenest o, neighbour, by your leave, your keys ! In sooth hou hadst no desperate love for holy 4urch • .ongknolldd bell were no sweet miisic to thee. . God be with thee” shall be all thy mass • hou never loved’st those dry and droning priests hou’lt rot most cool and quiet in my garden our gay and gilded vault would be too cesriy! Sewne II.J FAZIO. 16 [Exit, Scene II.— 4 Street. with the body of Bartolo. Enter Fazio with a dark lantern, r. household doff y every hand, and fearing none . Ta^baJ^^ treasonous wolf. ! a have none on’t ; 3 a bad deed to roll— and whom ? the dead ? . of their winding-sheets and coffin nails. ) but a quit-rent for the land I sold him tost two yards to house him and his worms • lewhat usurious m the main, but that onest thrift to your keen* usurer. ■ he a kinsman nay a friend, ’twere devilish, now whom rob I ? why the state_In sooffi \ellous little owe I this same state, - 1 should be so dainty of its welfare, links our Duke hath pomp enough; our Senate .their scarlet robes and e^ine fippets ’ live in proud and pillar’d palaces/ -I plentiful.— Besides ^tter It abroad amid so many, ’ 16 FAZIO. [Act 1. Away ! »"">? I ’’“K* yedoseJoSi’a treasures, ?«“„5««g«3ie« hues', outshine yourselves! \Exit^ Scene III.— TAe Street near Fazio's door. Re-enter Fazio with a sack, r: he resU it. wLn'ttoough''Ae'te^ mfflght »"■ *»y TTrymP to their brooding mates, mt now. The heavy earth doth cling around my ee . I move as every With its particular weight ol ; S-^LTX^XXsUaen i HaXo'S XXtdXndlsy weigta. The stXs whereon I tread do gnmly speak, IXSng echoes, ay, wi.hhuTan votcest , Unbodied anus pluck at me j And socketless P*’® mcthinks this weight I Sigte s?& r^^LX^Stk iSdXfcr whai Ka1*^XmaXSwn a.chvillmm Scene IV.— Fazio's House. Enter Fazio with his sack, R., which U opens and « 1 d.ankye.hounteousthieve^ m«hWth.e,,f Your daggers are my worship. H y P gCEWE IV.] FAZIO. 17 The broad and sharp-staked trenches of the- law, Mock’d at the deep damnation that attaints The souls of murderers, for my hands unbloodied, As delicately, purely white as ever, To pluck the golden fruitage 'I Oh, I thank ye, Will chronicle ye, my good friends and true. Etiter BiAxXca l. — Fazio conceals the treasure. Elan, (l. c.) Nay, Fazio, nay; this is too much: nay, Fazio, ril not be humoured like a froward child. Trick’d into sleep w’itli pretty tuneful tales. Faz. (r. c.) We feast the Duke to-morrow ; shall it be In the Adorni or Vitelli palace ? They’re both on sale, and each is fair and lofty, Biaji. Why, Fazio, art thou frantic] Nay, look not So strangely — so unmeaningly. I had rather That thou would’st weep, than look so wildly joyful. Faz. Ay, and a glorious banquet it shall be : Cray servants in as proiicl caparisons, As though they served immortal gods with nectar. Ay, ay, Bianca ! there shall be a princess ; She shall be lady of the feast. Let’s see Your gold and crimson for your fair-hair’d beauties : — It shall be gold and crimson. Dost thou know The princess that I mean ] — Dost thou, Bianca ? Elan. Nay, if thou still wilt flout me. I’ll not weep : Thou shalt not have the pitiful bad pleasure Of wringing me to misery. I’ll be cold And patient as a statue of my wrongs. Faz. I have just thought, Bianca, these black stills An ugly and ill-fitting furniture : We’ll try an they are brittle. [Fashing them in 'pieces.) I’ll have gilding, Nothing but gilding, nothing but what looks glittering : I’m sick of black and dingy darkness. Here, ( Uncovering the sack^ Look here, Bianca, here’s a light! Take care ; Thine eyesight is too weak for such a blaze. It is not daylight ; nay, it is not mom — 18 FAZIO [Act II. And every one is worth a thousand florins. Who shall be princess of the feast to-morrow ] hursts into tears. Within, within, 1*11 tell thee all within. [Exeunt l. END OF ACT I. ♦ AC T II. SCENE I. — A Hall in the Palace of Fazio. Enter Falsetto, Dandolo, Philario, and a Gentle- man. Fal. Serve ye lord Fazio % Gent, Ay, sir, he honours me With his commands. Fal, *Tis a brave gentleman ! Tell him Signior Falsetto, and Philario The most renowned Improvisatore, And Signior Dandolo, the court fashionist, Present their duty to him. Gent, Ay, good sirs. {Aside,) My master hath a Midas touch ; these fellows Will try if he hath ears like that great king. [Exit l. Enter Fazio, splendidly dressed^ l. Fal, (r. c.) Most noble lord, most wonderful philosopher 1 We come to thank thee, sir, that thou dost honour Our Florence with the sunlight of your fame. Thou that hast ravish’d nature of a secret That maketh thee her very paragon : She can but create gold, and so canst thou ; But she doth bury it in mire and murk. Within the unsunn* d bowels of the earth ; But thou dost set it on the face of the world, Making it shame its old and sullen darkness. ScEIfE I.] FAZIO. 19 Faz, (c,) Fair sir, this cataract of courtesy Overwhelms my weak and unhabituate ears. If I may venture such uncivil ignorance, Your quality ? Fal. I, my good lord, am one Have such keen eyesight for my neighbour’s virtues, And such a doting love for excellence, That when I see a wise man, or a noble. Or wealthy, as I ever hold it pity Man should be blind to his own merits, words Slide from my lips ; and I do mirror him In the clear glass of my poor eloquence. Faz. In coarse and honest phraseology, A flatterer. ’ * Fal. Flatterer ! Nay, the word’s grown gross. An apt discourser upon things of honour. Professor of art panegyrical. ’Twere ill, were I a hawk, to see such bravery. And not a thrush to sing of it. Wealth, sir. Wealth is the robe and outward garb of man. The setting to the rarer jewelry. The soul’s unseen and inner qualities. And then, my lord, philosophy ! ’tis that. The stamp and impress of our divine nature, By which we know that we are gods, and are so. But wealth and wisdom in one spacious breast ! Who would not hymn so rare and rich a wedding ] Who would not serve within the gorgeous palace, Glorified by such strange' and admired inmates'? Faz. ( aside.) Now the poor honest Fazio had disdain’d Such scurvy fellowship ; howbeit. Lord Fazio Must lacquey his new state with these base jackalls. (To him) Fair sir, you’ll honour me with your company. ( To Dan.) May I make bold, sir, with your state and title ? Dan. Oh, my lord, by the falling of your robe. Your cloth of gold one whole hair’s-breadth too low, ’Tis manifest you know not Signior Dandolo. Faz. A pitiable lack of knowledge, sir. Dan. My lord, thou hast before thee in thy presence The mirror of the court, the very calendar That rules the swift revolving round of fashion ; 20 FAZIO Aot 11 Doth tell what hues do suit what height o’ the sun ; When your spring pinks should banish from the court Your sober winter browns ; when July heat Doth authorize the gay and flaunting yellows ; — The court thermometer, that doth command Your three-piled velvet abdicate its state For the airy satins. Oh, my lord, you are too late, At least three days, with your Venetian tissue. Faz, I sorrow, sir, to merit your rebuke On point so weighty. , Dan, Ay, signior. Pm paramount In all affairs of boot, and spur, and hose ; In matters of the robe and cap, supreme ; In ruff disputes, my lord, there’s no appeal From my irrefragibility. Faz, ' Sweet sir, I fear me, such despotic rule and sway Over the persons of our citizens Must be of danger to our state of Florence. Dan. Good sooth, my lord, I am a very tyrant. Why, if a senator should presume to wear A cloak of fur in June, I should indict him Guilty of leze-majest6 against my kingship : They call me Dandolo, the King of Fashions — The whole empire of dress is my dominion. Why, if our Duke should wear an ill-grain’d colour Against my positive enactment, though His state might shield him from the palpable shame Of a rebuke, yet, my good lord, opinion. Public opinion, would hold signior Dandolo Merciful in his silence. Faz, A Lycurgus ! Dan, Good, my lord ! dignity must be upheld On the strong pillars of severity. Your cap, my lord, a little to the north-east. And your sword — thus, my lord — pointed out this way, [Adjusting Am. In an equilateral triangle. Nay, Nay, on my credit, my good lord, this hose Is a fair woof. The ladies, sir, the ladies, (For I foresee you’ll be a ruling planet,) Sciiifs I.] FAZIO. 21 Must not be taught any heretical fancies, Fantastical infringements of my codes Your lordship must give place to Signior Dandolo About their persons. * Gentle sir, the ladies Must be too deeply, iri’esistibly yours. ! fignior, no; I’m not one of the gallants, 1 hat pine for a fair lip, or eye, or cheek, I Or that poetical treasure, a true heart, j But, my lord, a fair-ordered head-dress makes me I As love-sick as a dove at mating-time ; I A tasteful slipper is my soul’s delight': I Oh, I adore a robe that drops and floats I As it were lighter than the air around it ; I doat upon a stomacher to distraction, I When the gay jewels, gracefully dispos’d, I Make it a zone of stars : and then a fan. The elegant motion of a fan is murder, Positive murder to my poor weak senses. Faz, [ c. turning to Philario, ) But here’s a third : the improvisatore. Gentle Philario, lurks, methinks, behind. Phil ( L. c. ) Most noble lord ! it were his loftiest boast 1 o wed your honours to his harp. To hymn iThe finder of the philosophic stone. The sovereign prince of alchymists ; ’twould make il he cold verse-mechanist, the nice balancer □f curious words and fair compacted phrases, Burst to a liquid and melodious flow, iRapturous and ravishing but in praise of thee f |Dut I, my lord, that have the fluent vein, [The rapid rush — \ Faz. Fie, sir ! Oh fie I ’tis fulsome. |5ir, there’s a soil fit for that rank weed flattery To trail its poisonous and obscene clusters : poet’s soul should bear a richer fruitage — the aconite ^ew not in Eden. Thou, rhat thou, with lips tipt with the fire of heaven, Lh excursive eye, that in its earth- wide range Jnnks m the grandeur and the loveliness, hat breathes along this high- wrought world of man ; 22 FAZIO. [Act II, That hast within thee apprehensions strong Of all that’s pure and passionless and heavenly — That thou, a vapid and a mawkish parasite, Should ’st pipe to that witch Fortune’s favourites ! ’Tis coarse — ’tis sickly — ’tis as though the eagle Should spread his sail-broad wings to flap a dunghill ; As though a pale and withering pestilence Should ride the golden chariot of the sun ; As one should use the language of the gods To chatter loose and ribald brothelry. Phil, My lord, I thank thee for that noble chiding— Oh, my lord, ’tis the curse and brand of poesy. That it must trim its fetterless free plumes To the gross fancies of the humoursome age ; That it must stoop from its bold heights to court Liquorish opinion, whose aye wavering breath Is to it as the precious air of life. Oh ! in a capering, chambering, wanton land, The lozel’s song alone gains audience. Fine loving ditties, sweet to sickliness ; The languishing and luscious touch alone Of all the full harp’s ecstacies, can detain The palled and pampered ear of Italy. But, my lord, we have deeper mysteries For the initiate — Hark ! — it bursts ! — ^it flows ! Song.— Philario. Rich and Royal Italy ! Dominion’s lofty bride ! Earth deem’d no loss of pride , To be enslaved by thee. From broad Euphrates’ bank. When the sun look’d through the gloom, Thy eagle’s golden plume His orient splendour drank ; And when ai eve he set Far in the chamber’d west. That bird of brilliance yet Bathed in his gorgeous rest. •csjor I.] FAZIO. 23 Sad and sunken Italy ! The plunderer’s common prey ! When saw the eye of day So very a slave as thee ? Long, long a bloody stage For petty kinglings tame, Their miserable game^ Of puny war to wage. Or from the northern star Come haughty despots down, With iron hand to share Thy bruised and broken crown J Fair and fervid Italy ! Lady of each gentler art, Yet couldst thou lead the heart In mild captivity. Warm Raphael’s Virgin sprung To worship and to love ; The enamour’d air above Rich clouds of music hung. Thy poets bold and free Did noble wrong to time, In their high rhymed majesty Ravishing thy clime. Loose and languid Italy ! Where now the magic power, That in thy doleful hour Made a queen of thee ] The pencil cold and dead, Whose lightest touch was life ; The old immortal strife Of thy high poets fled. From her inglorious urn Will Italy arise ? Will golden days return ’Neath the azure of her skies ] This is done, oh ! this is done, When the broken land is one ; This shall be, oh ! this shall be., When the slavish land is free ! 24 FAZIO. [Act li. Scene II. — The Viiblic Walks of Florence, Enter Fazio, Falsetto, Dandolo, and Piiilario, r. Fal, (l. c.) Yonder, my lord, is the lady Aldabella, The star of admiration to all Florence. Dan, (c.) There, my lord, there is a faiv drooping robe- Would that I were a breath of wind to float it ! Faz,[h,) Gentlemen, by your leave I would salute her. Ye dl meet me anon in the Piazza. [Exeunt all hut Faz, l. Faz, Now, lofty woman, we are equal now, And I will front thee in thy pitcli of pride. Enter Aldabella, l. S/i*e sj^eaks, after a salutation on each side. Aid, (c.) Oh, thou and I, Sir, when we met of old, W ere not so distant, nor so chill. My lord — 1 had forgot, my lord ! You dawning signiors Are jealous of your state : you great philosophers Walk not on earth ; and we poor groveling beings, If we would win your eminent regards, Must meet ye the air. Oh ! it sits well This scorn, it looks so gi’ave and reverend. Faz, (r. c.) Is scorn, in lady Aldabella^s creed, So monstrous and heretical ? Aid, Again, Treason again, a most irreverent laugh, A traitorous jest before so learn’d a sage ! But I may joy in thy good fortue, Fazio. Faz, In sooth, good fortune, if his worth the joy, The haughty Lady Aid ab ell a’ s joy ! Aid, Nay, an thou hadst not dash’d so careless off My bounteous offering, I had said — Faz, What, lady ? Aid, Oh, naught — mere sound — mere air ! — Thoii ’it married, Fazio : And is thy bride a jewel of the first water ? I know thou wilt say, ay ; ’tis an old tale, Thy fond lip-revel on a lady’s beauties : Methinks I’ve heard thee descant upon loveliness. Till the full ears were drunken with sweet sounds. 4jC£RE II.J FAZIO. 25 But never let me see her, Fazio : never ! Faz, And w^hy not, lady ? She is exquisite— Bashfully, humbly exquisite ; yet Florence May be as proud of her, as of the richest That fire her with the lustre of their state. A nd why not, lady ? Aid, Why ! I know not why ! Oh, your philosophy ! ’tis ever curious. Poor lady Nature must tell all, and clearly, To its inquisitorship. We ’ll not think on ’t : It fell from me unawares ; words will start forth When the mind wanders. — Oh no, not because She’s merely lovely : — but we’ll think no more on’t. — Didst hear the act ] Faz, Lady, what act ? Aid, The act Of the great Duke of Florence and his Senate, Entitled against turtle doves in poesy. Henceforth that useful bird is interdict. As the mild emblem of true constancy. There’s a new word found ; ’tis pure Tuscan too ; Fazio's to fill the blank up, if it chime ; If not, Heaven help the rhymester. Faz, ( Ajpart,) With what an airy and a sparkling grace The language glances from her silken lips ! Her once-loved voice how exquisite it sounds, E’en like a gentle music heard in childhood ! ‘ Aid, Why yes, my lord, in these degenerate days Constancy is so rare a virtue, angels Come down to gaze on’t : it makes the world proud. Who would be one o’ the many % Why, our Florence Will blaze with the miracle. ’Tis true, ’tis true : The odour of the rose grows faint and sickly, And joys are finest by comparison. — But what is that to the majestic pride jf being the sole true phoenix ^ Faz, Gentle lady. Thou speak’st as if that smooth word constancy Were harsh and brassy sounding in thy ears. ^ Aid, No, no, signior ; your good old-fangled virtues Save gloss enough for me, had it been my lot 26 FAZIO. Act II To be a miser’s treasure : if his eyes Ne’er open’d but on me, I ne’er had wept At such a pleasant faithful avarice. Faz, Lady, there was a time when I did dream Of playing the miser to another treasure, One not less precious than thy stately self. Aid. Oh yes, my lord, oh yes ; the tale did run That thou and I did love : so ran the tale. That thou and I showld have been wed — the tale Ran so, my lord — Oh memory, memory, memory ! It is a bitter pleasure, but ’tis pleasure. Faz. A pleasure, lady ! — why then cast me off Like an indifferent weed 1 — with icy scorn Why choke the blossom tliat but woo’d thy sunshine ? Aid. Ah, wdiat an easy robe is scorn to wear ! ^ ’Tis but to wrinkle up the level brow. To arch the pliant eye-lash, and freeze up The passionless and placid orb within — Castelli ! oh Castelli ! Faz. Who was he, lady ? Aid. One, my good lord, I loved most fondly, fatally. Faz. Then thou didst love 1 love, Aldabella, truly, Fervently, fondly 1 — But what’s that to me ? Aid. Oh yes, my lord, he was a noble gentleman ; Thou know’st him by his title, Conde d’Orsoa ; My nearest kinsman, my good uncle : — I, Knowing our passionate and fanciful nature, To his sage counsels fetter’d my wild will. Proud was he of me, deem’d me a fit mate For highest princes ; and his honest flatteries So pamper’d me, the fatal duteousness So grew upon me — Fazio, dost thou think My colo'ur wither’d since we parted % Gleam Mine eyes as they were wont ] — Or doth the outside Still wear a lying smooth indifference, While the unseen heart is haggard wan wuth woe ? Faz. Is’t possible And didst thou love me, lady ] Though it be joy vain and unprofitable As is the sunshine to a dead man’s eyes, Pleasureless from his impotence of pleasure ; Tell me and trulv — Scene II.] FAZIO. 27 AM, My grave sir confessor, On with thy hood and cowl. — So thou wouldst hear Of pining days and discontented nights ; Ah me’s and doleful airs to my sad lute. Fazio, they suffer most who utter least. — Heaven, wnat a babbling traitor is the tongue ! — Would not the air freeze up such sinful sound ] — I Oh no, thou heard’stit not. Ah me ! and thou, I know, wilt surfeit the coarse common ear 1 With the proud Aldabella’s fall. — Betray me not ; I Be charier of her shame than Aldabella. ee I [Fazio falls on his knees to her. I My lord ! my lord ! ’tis public here — no more — I’m staid for at my jialace by the Arno, j Farewell, my lord, farewell ! — Betray me not : — I But never let me see her^ Fazio, never. \Etxit^ l. I Faz. (solus.) Love me i — to suffering love me! — why, ' her love [Might draw a brazen statue from its pedestal, Afid make its yellow veins leap up with life. Fair Chastity, thou hast two juggling fiends [Caballing for thy jewel : one within, And that’s a soft and melting devil, Love ; Th’ other without, and that’s a fair rich gentleman, IG-iraldi Fazio: they’re knit in a league. And thou, thou snowy and unsociable virtue, May’st lose no less a votaress from thy nunnery ‘Than the most beautiful proud Aldabella. Had I been honest, ’twere indeed to fall ; But now ’tis but a step down the declivity. [Bianca I but Bianca ! — bear me up. Bear me up, in the trammels of thy fondness Bind thou my slippery soul. Wrong thee, Bianca ? Nay, nay, that’s deep indeed ; fathomless deep ■ In the black pit of infamy and sin : 1 am not so weary yet of the upper air. Wrong tliee, Bianca ! No, not for the earth ; Not for earth’s brightest, not for Aldabella. Exnty R, FAZIO. [Act II. Scene III . — JPalace of Fazio. Fnter Fazio and Bianca, r. Faz. (l. c.) Dost tliou love me, Bianca! Fian. (r. c.) There’s a question For a philosopher ! — Why, I’ve answer’d it For two long years ; and, oh, for many more. It will not stick upon my lips to answer thee. Faz. Thou’rt in the fashion, then. The court, Bianca, The ladies of the court, find me a fair gentleman ; Ay, and a dangerous wit too, that smites smartly. Bian. And thou believest it all 1 Faz. Why, if the gallants. The lordly and frank spirits of the time. Troop around thee with gay rhymes on thy beauties. Tinkling their smooth and amorous flatteries, Shalt thou be then a solemn infidel 1 Bian. I shall not heed them ; my poor beauty needs < Only one flatterer. i Faz. Ay, but they’ll press on thee, ,« And force their music into thy deaf ears. Think ye, ye should be coy, and calm, and cold ? ' j Bian. Oh, no 1 — I fear me a discourteous laugh ^ Might be their guerdon for their lavish lying. ] Faz. But if one trip upon your lip, or wind Your fingers in his sportive hand, think ye i Ye could endure it % \ Bian. Fazio, thou wrong’st me ^ With such dishonest questionings. My lord, \ There’s such an awe in virtue, it can make ) The anger of a sleek smooth brow like mine ^ Strike the hot libertine to dust before me. j He’d dare to dally with a fire in his hand, S' Kiss rugged briars with his unholy lips, Ere with his rash assault attaint my honour. ; Faz. But if ye see me by a noble lady. Whispering as though she were my shrine whereon I lay my odorous incense, and her beauty Grow riper, richer at my cherishing praise ; If she lean on me with a fond round arm, ' Scene III.] FAZIO. 29 If he{ eye drink the light from out mine eyes, And if her lips drop sounds for my ear only ; Thoudt arch thy moody brow, look at me gravely, With a pale anger on thy silenf cheek. ’Tis out of keeping, his not the court fashion — We must forego this clinging and this clasping ; Be cold, and strange, and courteous to each other ; And say, How doth my lord V’ “ How slept my lady As though we dwelt at opposite ends o’ the city. Bicm. What hath distemper’d thee ? — This is unnatural ; Thou could’st not talk thus in thy stedfast senses. Fazio, thou hast seen Aldabella ! Faz. Well, She is no basilisk — there’s no death in her eyes. Bian. Ay, Fazio, but there is ; and more than death — A death beyond the grave — a death of sin — [A howling, hideous, and eternal death — peath the flesh shrinks from. No, thou must not see her ! Nay, I’m imperative — thou’rt mine, and shalt not. Faz, Shalt not !— Dost think me a thick-blooded slave, (Fo say Amen” unto thy positive shalt not |rhe hand upon a dial, only to point flust as your humourous ladyship choose to shine ! j Bian, F azio, thou sett’st a fever in my brain ; jVIy very lips burn, Fazio, at the thought ; * had rather thou wert in thy winding-sheet iFhan that bad woman’s arms ; I had rather grave-worms Were on thy lips than that bad woman’s kisses. Faz. Howbeit, there is no blistering in their taste : iFhere is no suflbcation in those arms. ^ Bian, Take heed ! we are passionate ; our milk of love Doth turn to wormwood, and that’s bitter drinking. iFhe fondest are most phrenetic : where the fire Burnetii intensest, there the inmate pale Doth dread the broad and beaconing conflagration. -f that ye cast us to the winds, the winds Will give us their unruly restless nature ; We whirl and whirl ; and where we settle, Fazio, But he that ruleth the mad winds can know. f ye do drive the love out of my soul. 30 [Act 11. That is its motion, being, and its life. There’ll be a conflict strange and horrilde, Among all fearful and ill- visioned fiends, For the blank void ; and their mad revel there Will make me — oh, I know not what — hate thee ! — Oh, no !— I could not hate thee, Fazio : Nay, nay, my Fazio, ’tis not come to that ; Mine arms, mine arms, shall say the next shall not;” I’ll never startle more thy peevish ears, But I’ll speak to thee with my positive lips. [Kissing and clinging to him, Faz. Oh, what a wild and wayward child am I ! — Like the hungry fool, that in his moody fit Dash’d from his lips his last delicious morsel. I’ll see her once, Bianca, and but once ; And then a rich and breathing tale I’ll tell her Ofl our full happiness. If she be angel, ’Twill be a gleam of Paradise to her. And she’ll smile at it one of those soft smiles. That make the air seem sunny, blithe and balmy. If she be devil Nay, but that’s too ugly ; The fancy doth rebel at it, and shrink As from a serpent in a knot of flowers. Devil and Aldabella ! — Fie ! — -They sound Like nightingales and screech-owls heard together. What ! must I still have tears to kiss away ] — I will return — Good night ! — It is but once. See, thou’st the taste o’ my lips now at our parting ; And when we meet again, if they be tainted. Thou shalt — oh no, thou shalt not, canst not hate me. [Exeunt, Scene IV. — Palace of Aldahella, Enter Aldabella, l. Aid, My dainty bird doth hover round the lure. And I must hood him with a skilful hand : Rich and renown’d, he must be in my train. Or Florence will turn rebel to my beauty. Enter Clara, Fazio behind, r. u. e. Oh, Clara, have you been to the Ursulines ? Scene IV.] FAZIO. 31 \Vliat says my cousin, the kind Lady Abbess ? Cla, (r.) She says, my lady, that to-morrow roon Noviciates are admitted; but she wonders. My Lady Abbess wonders, and I too V/onder, my lady, what can make ye fancy Those damp and dingy cloisters. Oh, my lady ! They’ll make you cut off all this fine dark hair — Why, all the signiors in the court would quarrel, And cut each other’s throats for a loose hair of it. Aid, Ah me ! what heeds it wliere I linger out The remnant of my dark and despised life ? — Clara, thou weariest me. Cla. Oh, but, my lady, I saw their dress : it was so coarse and hard-grain’d, I’m sure ’t would fret your ladyship’s soft skin Like thorns and brambles ; and besides, the make on’t i — A vine-dresser’s wife at market looks more dainty. Aid, Then my tears will not stain it. Oh, ’tis rich enough For lean and haggard sorrow, f Ajypearing to perceiy^ Fazio, exit Clara, l.) Oh, my lord ! You’re timely come to take a long farewell. Our convent gates are rude, and black, and ^iose : Our Ursuline veils of such a jealous woof, There must be piercing in those curious eyes. Would know if the skin beneath be swarth or snowy. Faz, (r. c.) a convent for the brilliant Aldabella % The mirror of all rival loveliness, The harp to which all gay thoughts lightly dance. Mew’d in the drowsy silence of a cloister ! Aid, (l. c.) Oh, what regards it, if a blind man lie On a green lawn or on a steamy moor ! What heeds it to the dead and wither’d heart. Whose faculty of rapture is grown sere. Hath lost distinction between foul and fair, Whether it house in gorgeous palaces. Or mid wan graves and dismal signs of care ! Oh, there’s a grief, so with the threads of being Ravelled and twined, it sickens every sense : Then is the swinging and monotonous bell Musical as the rich harp heai d by moonlight ; 32 FAZTO. [Act II Then are the limbs insensible if they rest On the coarse pallet or the pulpy down. Faz, What mean ye, lady 1 — thou bewilder’st me. What grief so wanton and luxurious Would choose the lady Aldabella’s bosom To pillow on ] > Aid, Oh, my lord, untold love — — Nay, Fazio, gaze not on me so : my tongue Can scarcely move for the fire within my cheeks — It cankereth, it consumeth, untold love. But if it burst its secret prison-house. And venture on the broad and public air. It leagueth with a busy fiend call’d Shame ; — And they both dog their game, till Misery Fastens upon it with a viper’s fang. And rings its being with its venomous coil. Faz, Misery and thee ! — oh, ’tis unnatural ! — Oh, yoke thee to that thing of darkness, misery ! — Ihat Ethiop, that grim Moor ! — it were to couple The dove and kite within one loving leash. It must not be ; nay, ye must be divorced. Aid, Ah no, my lord ! we are too deeply pledg’d. Dost thou remember our old poet’s* legend ^ Over Hell gates — “ Hope comes not here V Where hope Comes not, is hell ; and what have I to hope ] Faz, What hast to hope ? — Thou’rt strangely beautiful. Aid, M^ould st thou leave flattery thy last ravishing sound Upon mine ears ?— ’Tis kind, ’tis fatally kind. Faz, Oh, no ! we must not part, we must not part. I came to tell thee something : what, 1 know not. I only know one word that should have been ; And that Oh ! if thy skin were seam’d with wrinkles, If on thy cheek sat sallow hollowness, If thy warm voice spake shrieking, harsh, and shrill; But to that breathing form, those ripe round lips, Like a full parted cherry, those dark eyes. Rich in such dewy languors I’ll not say it Nay, nay, ’tis on me now ! — Poison’s at work ! Now listen to me, lady We must love. • Dante » ICiJKE IV.] FAZIO. 33 Aid. Love ! — Ay, my lord, as far as honesty. Faz-. Honesty ! — ’Tis a stale and musty phrase ; it least at coart : and why should we be traitors "o the strong tyrant Custom 1 Aid. My lord Fazio — ^h, said I my lord Fazio % — thou'lt betray me : 'he bride — the wife — she that I mean — My lord, am nor splenetic nor envious ; ut ’ti§ a name I dare not trust my lips with. Faz. Bianca, oh, Bianca is her name ; he mild Bianca, the soft fond Bianca, h, to that name, e’en in the Church of God, pledged a solemn faith. Aid. Within that Church, arren and solitary my sad name lall sound, when the pale nun professM doth wed bat her cold bridegroom Solitude : and yet — er right — ere she had seen you, we had lov’d. Faz. {Franticly, c.) Why should we dash the goblet from our lips, 3cause the dregs may have a smack of bitter ? hy should that pale and clinging consequence irust itself ever ’twixt us and our joys ? Aid. ( R. c. ) My lord, ’tis well our convent walls are high, id our gates massy ; else ye raging tigers ght rush upon us simple maids unveil’d. Faz. A veil ! a veil ! why, Florence will be dark noon-day : or thy beauty will fire up, ■ the contagion of its own bright lustre, e dull dead -flax to so intense a brilliance, will look like one of those rich purple clouds the pavilion of the setting sun. Aid. My lord, I’ve a poor banquet here within ; ill’t please you taste it ? Faz. Ay, wine, wine ! ay, wine ! drown thee, tnou officious preacher, here ! iClasmns his fore/iead. ) ! [Exeunt, b . END OF ACT II. 34 FAZIO. ^Act III ACT III. Scene I. — 'Palace r of his riches 'I Bian. The east side o’ the fountain, 'i the small garden of a lowly nouse y the Franciscan convent, the green herbs row boon and freely, the manure is rich round their roots : dig there, and you’ll be wiser. D 38 FAZIO. "Act III Duke. Who tenanted this house ] Bian. Giraldi F azio. Duke. What of his wealth ] Bian. There^s one in Florence knows More secrets than beseems an honest man. Duke. And who is he ? Bian. Giraldi Fazio. Gon. My liege, I know him : ’tis the new sprung signior, This great philosopher. I ever doubted His vaunted manufactory of gold, Work’d by some strange machinery. Duke. Theodore, Search thou the garden that this woman speaks of. Captain Antonio, be’t thy charge to attach With speed the person of this Fazio. Bia7t. (RusJiingfoi'ward to Ant:o.) You’ll find him the Marchesa Aldabella’s ; Bring him away — no mercy — no delay — Nay, not an instant — not time for a kiss, A parting kiss. [Aside.) Now come what will. Their curst entwining arms are riven asunder. Duke. And thou, thou peremptory summoner ! Most thirsty after justice ! speak ! Thy name 1 Bian. Bianca. Duke. Thy estate, wedded or single ? Bian. My lord Duke. Give instant answer to the court. Bian. Oh, wedded, but most miserably single. Duke. Woman, thou palterest with our dignity. Thy husband’s name and quality % — Why shakest thou And draw’st the veil along thy moody brow. As thou too wert a murderess 1 — Speak, and quickly. Bian. (Faltering.) Giraldi Fazio. Duke. ’Tis thy husband, then — Woman, take heed, if, petulant and rash, Thou would’st abuse the righteous sword of law, That brightest in the armoury of man. To a peevish instrument of thy light passions. Or furtherance of some close and secret guilt : Take heed, ’tis in the heaven-stamp’d roll of sins, Scene II.] FAZIO. 39 To bear false witness Oh, but ’gainst thy husband, Thy bQsom’s lord, flesh of thy flesh ! — -To set The blood-hounds of the law upon his track ! If thou speak’st true, stern justice will but blush To be so cheer’d upon her guilty prey* If it be false, thou givest to flagrant sin A heinous immortality. This deed Will chronicle thee, woman, to all ages. In human guilt a portent and an era : ’Tis of those crimes, whose eminent fame Hell joys at ; And the celestial angels, that look on it. Wish their keen airy vision dim and narrow. Enter Theodore, r. Theo, My liege, e’eri where she said, an unstripp’d corpse Lay carelessly inearth’d ; old weeds hung on it. Like those that old Bartolo wont to wear ; And under the left rib a small stiletto. Rusted within the pale and creeping flesh. Enter Antonio ivith Fazio, r. ^ Ant. My liege, the prisoner. Duke, (c.) Thou’rt Giraldi Fazio. Giraldi Fazio, thou stand’st here arraign’d. That, with presumption impious and accurst. Thou hast usurp’d God’s high prerogative, Making thy fellow mortal’s life and death Wait on thy moody and diseased passions ; That with a violent and untimely steel Hast set abroach the blood, that should have ebb’d In calm and natural current : to sum all In one wild name — a name the pale air freezes at, And every cheek of man sinks in with horror — Thou art a cold and midnight murderer. Eaz. (r. c.) My liege, I do beseech thee, argue not, From the thick clogging of my clammy breath. Aught but a natural and instinctive dread Of such a bloody and ill-sounding title. My liege I do beseech thee, whate’er reptile 40 FAZIO. [Act III Hath cast this filthy slime of slander on me, Set him before me face to face : the fire Of my just anger shall burn up his heart, Make his lip drop, and powerless shuddering Creep o’er his noisome and corrupted limbs. Till the gross lie clioak in his wretched throat. Duke, Thou’rt bold. — But know ye aught of old Bartolo I Methinks, for innocence, thou’rt pale and tremulous — That name is to thee as a thunderclap ; But thou shalt have thy wish Woman, stand forth : Nay, cast away thy veil. — —Look on her, Fazio. Faz, Bianca ! — No, it is a horrid vision ! And, if I struggle, I shall wake, and find it A miscreated mockery of the brain. If thou’rt a fiend, what hellish right hast thou To shroud thy leprous and fire-seamed visage In lovely lineaments, like my Bianca’s'? If thou’rt indeed Bianca, thou wilt weai A ring I gave thee at our wedding time. In God’s name do I bid thee hold it up ; And, if thou dost. I’ll be a murderer, A slaughterer of whole hecatombs of men, So ye wil? rid me of the hideous sight. Duke, Giraldi Fazio, hear the court’s award : First, on thy evil-gotten wealth the State Setteth her solemn seal of confiscation ; And for thyself Bian, ( Rushing forward to c,) Oh, we’ll be poor again. Oh, I forgive thee! — We’ll be poor and happy I So happy, the dull day shall be too short for us. She loved thee, that proud woman, for thy riches ; But thou canst tell why I love Fazio. Duke, And for thyself — ’Tis in the code of Heaven, Blood will have blood — the slayer for the slain. Death is thy doom — the public, daylight death : Thy body do we give unto the wheel : The Lord have mercy on thy sinful soul 1 Bian, Death ! — Death ! — I meant not that ! Ye mean not that 1 What’s all this waste and idle talk of murther t He slay a man — with tender hands like his V — i^CEWE II.] FAZIO. 4 With delicate iniid soull- i,d:ad startled him ! I’ve seen him pale and shudderintr . O -Why, his own blood i -- • - • « .inn ana It the sad writhings of a trampled worm • ^ ve seen him brush off with a dainty hand 1 bee that stung him. — Oh, why wear ye thus L ne garb and outward sanctity of law ? |Vhat means that snow upon your reverend brows, I that ye have no subtler apprehension .1 f?'”®, inherent harmony in the nature >i bloody criminal and bloody crime ? fwere wise t’ arraign the soft and silly lamb Slaughtering his butcher : ye might make it .3 proper a murderer as my Fazio. Duke. Woman, th’ irrevocable breath of justice y avers not : he must die. Blan, Die! Fazio die! e grey and solemn murderers by charter! e ymined manslayers ! when the tale is rife /ith blood and guilt, and deep and damning, oh. e suck It in with cold insatiate thirst : ut to the plea of mercy ye are stones, iS deaf and hollovv as the unbowell’d winds, n, ye smooth Christians in your tones and looks at in your heats as savage as the tawny ’ nd misbelieving Afi-ican ! ye profane, ho say, “God bless him! God deliver him'” hile ye are beckoning for the bloody axe, I unoffending head I— His head I y F azio’s head ! — the head this bosom cherished (itn Its first virgin fondness. Duke. Fazio, hear ; l)-mOTrow’s morning sun shall dawn upon thee : it when he setteth in his western couch, 1 finds i*y place in this world void and vacant, Bian. To-morrow morning I— Not to-morrow rromin'r ! e damning devils give a forced faint pause, ° i-he bad soul but feebly catch at heaven, t ye, but ye, unshriven, unreconciled, ith all its ponderous mass of sins, hurl down e bare and shivering spirit.— Oh, not to-morrow ! :fJuke. Woman, thou dost outstep all modesty : 42 FAZIO. /aCtIII But for strong circumstance, that leagues with tnee, We should contemn thee for a wild mad woman, Raving her wayward and unsettled fancies. Bian. Mad ! mad ! — ay, that it is ! ay, that it is ! Is’t to be mad to speak, to move, to gaze. But not to know how, or why, or whence, or where ? To see that there are faces all around me, Floating within a dim discolour’d haze, Yet have distinction, vision but for one ] To speak wuth rapid and continuous flow, Yet know not how the unthought words start from mo Oh, I am mad, wildly, intensely mad. ’Twas but last night the moon was at the full ; And ye, and ye, the sovereign and the sage. The wisdom and the reverence of all Florence, E’en from a maniac’s dim disjointed tale. Do calmly judge away the innocent life. The holy human life, the life God gave him. Duke, (c.) Giraldi Fazio, hast thou aught to plead Against the law, that with imperious hand Grasps at thy forfeit life ] j Faz. (r. c.) My liege, this soul Rebels not, nay, repines not at thy sentence ; . Yet, oh! by all on earth, by all hereafter, ^ All that hath cognizance o’er unseen deeds, v Blood is a colour stranger to these hands. But there are crimes within me, deep and black, * That with their clamorous and tumultuous voices Shout at me, Thou should’st die, thy sins are deadly j Nor dare my oppressed heart return, ‘‘ ’Tis false.” ^ Bian. (l. c.) But I, I say, ’tis false : he is not guilty : i Not guilty unto death : I say he is not. I God gave ye hearing, but ye will not hear; i God gave ye feeling, but ye will not feel ; 1 God gave ye judgment, but ye falsely judge. ' Duke. Captain Antonio, guard thy prisoner. [f it be true, blood is not on thy soul. Yet thou objectest not to the charge of robbery ] [FA7..0 hows. Thou dost not. Robbery, by the the laws of FI jrence, Is sternly coded as a deadly crime : Scs:^:E II.] FAZIO. 43 Therefore, I say again, Giraldi Fazio, The Lord have" mercy on thy sinful soul ! \T/iey follow the Duke. Bian, [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 lis^ it, ere they lisp mine own — Ere 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 in — The destitute’s sole friend And thou pass too! Why, what a common liar was thy face, ^ That said the milk of mercy flowed within thee 1 Ye’re all alike.— Off 1 Off 1— Ye’re all alike. [ Exeunt all hut Fazio, the Officer, and Bianca, r. Bian. [Creeping to Yat^io.) Thou wilt not spurn me, wilt not trample on me. Wilt let me touch thee — I, whose lips have slain thee ? Oh, look not on me thus with that fond look — i^amper me not, for long and living grief To prey upon — O, curse me, Fazio — Kill me with cursing : I am thin and feeble — I A word will crush me — any thing but kindness. ■ Faz, Mine own Bianca 1 I shall need too much mercy Or ere to-morrow, to be merciless. It was not well, Bianca, in my guilt To cut me off— thus early — thus unripe : It will be bitter, when the axe falls on me, To think whose voice did summon it to its offlee. No more — no more of that : we all must die. Bianca, thou wilt love me when I’am dead : I wrong’d thee, but thou’lt love me when I m dead. Bian. What, kiss me, kiss me, Fazio 1- ’tis too much And these warm lips mustLe cold clay to-monow. Anto. Signior, we must part hence. Bian. What 1 tear me from him ; • When he has but a few short hours to give me I R,ob me of them 1 — He hath lain delicately : Thou wilt not envy m.e the wretched office 44 FAZIO. [Act III Of strewing the last pillow he shall lie on — Thou wilt not — nay, there’s moisture in thine eye — Thou wilt not. Anto. Lady, far as is the warrant Of my stern orders — Bian. Excellent youth ! Heaven thank thee ! There’s not another heart like thine in Florence. We shall not part, we shall not part, my*Fazio ! Oh, never, never, never — till to-morroio, Faz, ( As he leads her out,) It was not with this cold and shaking hand I led thee virgin to the bridal altar. \Flxmnt^ lu ACT IV. Scene I . — A prison, Fazio and Bianca, discovered. Faz, (l. c.) Let’s talk of joy, Bianca : we’ll deceive This present and this future, whose grim faces Stare at us with such deep and hideous blackness : We’ll fly to the past. Dost thou remember, lovo. Those gentle moonlights, when my fond guitar Was regular, as convent vesper hymn. Beneath thy lattice, sometimes the light dawn Came stealing on our voiceless intercourse. Soft in its grey and filmy atmosphere ] Bian, (c.) Oh yes, oh yes ! — There ’ll be a dawn to- morrow Will steal upon us. — Then^ oh then — Faz, 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 ? Scene 1.] FAZIO. 45 Bian. Oh yes ! To-morrow evening, if thou close Thy clasping hand, mine will not meet it then — Thou dt only grasp the chill and senseless earth. Faz, Thou busy, sad remembrancer of evil ! How exquisitely happy have we two Sate in the dusky and discoloured 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 cross’d o’er me, I dare not speak it. Bian. Quick, my Fazio ! Quick, let me have’t — to-morrow thou ’It not speak it. Faz. Oh, what a life must theirs be, those poor innocents ! When they have grown up to a sense of sorrow — .. Oh, what a feast will there be for rude mitery ! Honest men’s boys and girls, whene’er they niingle, . Will spurn them with the black and branded title, “The murderer’s children: ” Infamy will pin That pestilent label on their backs ; the plague-spot Will bloat and blister on them till their death-beds; And if they beg. — for beggars they must be — They’ll drive them from their doors with cruel jeers Upon my riches, villainously style them “ The children of Lord Fazio, the philosopher.” Bian. To-morrow will the cry begin, — to-morrow — It must not be, and I sit idle here ! I 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 innocemce. I’ll raise the dead ! I’ll conjure up the ghost Of that old rotten thing, Bartolo ; make it Cry out i’ the market place, “ Thou didst not slay him Farewell, farewell 1 If in the walls of Florence , Be any thing like hope or comfort, Fazio, ril clasp it with such strong and stedfast arms. 46 FAZIO. Act XV ril drag it to thy dungeon, and make laugh This silence with strange uncouth sounds of joy. Scene II. — A Street Eiiter Falsetto, Dandolo, Philario, r. Fal, 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. Dan. (r. c.) Oh, my Falsetto, a coat of my fashion Come to the wheel ! — It wrings my very heart. To fancy how the seams will crack, or haply The hatigmaii will be seen in’t ! — That I should live To be purveyor of the modes to a hangman ! 'Enter Bianca, l. Bian. They pass me by on the other side of the street ;' They spurn me from their doors ; they load the air 5 With curses that are flung on me ; the P alace, < 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 armfed savages, ^ That with their angry w'eapons smite me back, As though I came with fire in my hand, to burn ; The royal walls : the children in the streets ^ Break off their noisy games to hoot at me ; ; And the dogs from the porches howl me on. j But here’s a succour.—/^ To Falsetto. ) Oh, good sir, th|5 friend, I The man thoii feastedst with but yesterday, He to whose motion thou wast a true shadow, i, Whose* hand rain’d gifts upon thee — rhc, I rnean, Fazio, the bounteous, free, and liberal Fazio — He’s wrongfully accused, wrongfully doom’d : I swear to thee ’tis wrongfully. — Oh, sir. An eloquent honey-dropping tongue like thine, How would it garnish up his innocence. Till Justice would grow amorous, and embrace it ! Fal. Sweet lady, thou o’ervaluest my poor powers : — Scene li.] FAZIO. 47 Any thing in reason to win so much loveliness To smile on me. — But this were wild and futile. Bian. In reason 1 — ’Tis to save a human life — 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 base and corrupt nature. Fal. Methinks, good Dandolo, ’tis the hour we owe Attendance at the lady Portia’s toilette. — Any commision in our way, fair lady ? Dan, Oh, yes ! I’m ever indispensable there As is her looking glass. — Bian. Riotous madness ! To waste a breath (detaining them) upon such thin-blown bubbles ! Why thou didst cling to him but yesterday, As ’twere a danger of thy life to part from him ; Didst swear it was a sin in Providence He was not born a prince. — ( ToDa?i.) 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 Phil.) And thou, sir — I know in 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. Phil. I do beseech thee, lady, judge me not So harshly. In the state. Heaven knows. I’m powerless — 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, jMaking the chill and lazy dungeon air iMore smooth, more gentle to the trammell’d breathing jAll that I can I will, to make his misery {Slide from him light and airily. Bian. Wilt thou % ' Why then there’s hope the devil hath not all Florence. 48 [Act IV y^AO, Go — go ! — I cannot point thee out the way : Mine eyes are cloudy ; it^ is the first rain Hath dew’d them, since — since when I cannot tell thee.-- Go — go ! — [Exeunt Ehilario and DandolOy l. One effort more — and if I fail But by the inbred and instinctive tenderness That mingles with the life of womanhood, I cannot fail — and then, thou grim to-morrow. I’ll meet thee with a bold and unblench’d front. [Exity l Scene III. — Palace of Aldahella, Enter Aldabella, r. Md, ( R. c.) Fazio in prison ! Fazio doom’d to die ! — I was too hasty ; should have fled, and bashfully Beckoned him after ; lured him, not seized on him. Proud Aldabella a poor robber’s paramour ! ^ Oh, it sounds dismal ! Florence must not hear it. — ; And sooth, his time is brief to descant on it. — . Enter Bianca, l. And who art thou, thus usherless and unbidden ^ Scarest my privacy ] • Plan, ( Aside, l. cj I must not speak yet ; For if I do, a curse will clog my utterance. Aid, Nay, stand not with thy pale lips quivering notk»' ings— ! Speak out, and freely. v Plan, Lady, there is on§ — | Fie, fie upon this choking in my throat — i One thou didst love, — Giraldi F azio ; — J One who loved thee, — Giraldi Fazio. — ^ | He’s doom’d to die, to die to-morrow morning ; And lo, ’tis eve already ! — Aid, He is doom’d 1 — Why, then, the man must die. — Plan, Nay, gentle lady Thou’rt high-born, Tich, and beautiful : the prince** The prime of Florence wait upon thy smiles, Like sunflowers on the golden light they love Scene III.] FAZIO. 49 Thy lips have such sweet melody, ’tis hung upon Till silence is an agony. Did it plead "*01' one condemn’d, but oh, most innocent, T would be a music th’ air would fall in love with, \.nd never let it die till it had won its honest purpose. Aid, Wliat a wanton waste Of idle praise is here ! Bian, Nay think, oh think. What ’tis 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 — ’tis all false ; A trick of Fortune, fancifully cruel. To cheat the world of such a life as Fazio’s. Aid, Frivolous and weak : I could not if I would. Bian, Nay, but I’ll lure thee with so rich a boon — Hear — ^liear, and thou art won. If thou dost save him, It is but just he should be saved for thee. 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. Aid, 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 1 Bian, Proud-lipped woman, earth’s most gorgeous sov- ereigns Were worthless of my Fazio ! Foolish woman, Thou cast’st a jewel off ! The proudest lord 50 FAZIO. Act IV That ever reveird in thy unchaste arms. Was a swarth galley-slave to Fazio. Ah me ! ah 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. [Putiing her hand to her eyes,] Aid, Ho there ! to tli’ hospital for the lunatics ! Fetch succour for this poor distraught — Bian, What said 1 1 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 chamber ; (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-moiTOW at his waking, for thy face Languidly, lovingly down drooping o’er him. The scarr’d and haggard executioner ! Aid, ( Turning aicay.) 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 out debase myself to lend free hearing To such coarse fancies. — I must hence to-night I feast the lords of Florence. [Exit, r. Bian, They’re all lies : Things done with in some far and distant planet, Or offscum of some dreamy poet’s brain. All tales of human goodness ! Or they’re legends Left us of some good old forgotten time, Ere harlotry became a queenly sin, SeswE IV.] FAZIO, 61 in palaces. Oh, earth’s so crowded With V ice, tliat if strange Viitue stray abroad, I ney hoot it from them like a thing accurst, b azio, my Fazio .'—but we’ll laugh at them : We will not stay upon their wicked soil, en though they sue us not to die and leave them. [ ExU h. Scene IV.— Fazio’s House. Enter Bianca, l. Bian. (c.) Ah, what a fierce and frantic coil is here xJecause the sun must shine on one man less ' I m sick and weary— my feet drag along. y must I trail, like a scotch’d serpent, hither 1 Were to this house, where all things breathe of Fazio ? rpi . ■ ' -**^*.v> uitJciLiie oi r az Ihe air tastes of him— the walls whisper of him.— Jh, 1 11 to bed ! to bed ! What find I there ? Fazio, my fond, my gentle, fervent Fazio 1 T are his couch, harsh iron bars ^urtain his slumbers— oh, no, no,— I have it— le is in Aldabella’s arms. Out on’t ! i? I 1 j WU.I/ UIJ. L i Ib'.v rank, that’s noisome !— I remember- Mr children — ay, my children — Fazio’s children, li was my thoughts’ burthen as I came alono- Vere it not wise to bear them off with us “ Lway from this cold world !-Why should we breed up ^re sinneis for the Devil to prey upon here’s one a boy— some strumpet will enlace him, md make him wear her loathsome livery, he other a girl : if she be ill, she’il sink potted to death— she’ll be an Aldabella: she be chaste, she’ll be a wretch like me, jealous wretch, a frantic guilty wretch. o, no : they must not live, they must not live ! [Exit into a hack chamher, l. d. r. After a pause she returns. Will not be, it will not be — they woke “"y presence; .id then they smiled upon me fondly, playfully nd stretch’d their rosy fingers to sport with me; FAZIO. [Act V. 62 The bov hould handle it with his foul gripe, or pass lis ribald jests upon it. — Give it her. [ With the picture he draws out some gold, on which he looks unth great apparent melancholy. 54 FAZIO. [Act V Fhil, And this too, sir ] Faz, Oh, touch it not, Philario ! Oh, touch it not ! — ’tis venomous, ’tis viperous ! If there be bottomless sea, unfathom’ d pit In earth’s black womb — oh, plunge it, plunge it deep, 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, moremoble 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-deep’ning Sin, And ever-dark’ning Misery. Philario, Away with it ! — away! — ( Takes the picture,) — Here’s fair- , er gazing. J Thou wouldst not think these smooth and smiling lips J Could speak away a life — a husband’s life. Yet, ah I I led the way to sin — I wronged her : t Yet Heaven be witness, though I wronged her, loved her, i E’en in my heart of heart. r Enter Bianca, l. :| Bian. Who’s that Bianca, ” That’s loved so deeply ? — Fazio, Fazio, Fazio — ■ It is that moi'Tow ! j Faz. Nay, look cheeringly : | It may be God doth punish in this world ^ To spare hereafter. - Bian, Fazio, set me loose 1 — Thou clasp’st thy murderess. Faz. No, it is my love, My wife, my children’s mother ! — Pardon me, Bianca ; but thy children I’ll not see them : For on the wax of a soft infant’s memory Things horrible sink deep, and sternly settle. I would not have them, in their after-days. Cherish the image of their wretched father In the cold darkness of a prison-house. Scene II.] FAZIO. 55 Oh, if they ask thee of their father, tell them That he is dead, but say not how. Bian, No, no — Not tell them, that their mother murder’d him Faz, But are they well, my love % Bian, What, had I freed them From this drear villains’ earth, sent them before as, Lest we should miss them in another world, And so be fetter’d by a cold regret Of this sad sunshine % Faz, Oh, thou hast not been So wild a rebel to the will of God ! If that thou hast, ’twill 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, ’Twill sound more like Bian. 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 — 1 could sleep on thy bosom, F azio. Re-enter Antonio, r. Ant, Prisoner, Thine hour is come. Bian. It is not morning yet — Where is the twilight that should usher it 1 Where is the sun, that should come golden on 1 Ill-favoured liar, to come prate of morning. With torch-light in thy hand to scare the darkness. Ant, Thou dost forget ; day’s light ne’er pierceth here : The sun hath kindled up the open air. Bian. I say, ’tis but an hour since it was evening, dreary, measureless, and mournful hour, Yet but an hour. Faz. I will obey thee, officer ! Yet but a word — Bianca, ’tis a strange one — Can’st thou endure it, dearest ? — Aldabella—— FAZIO. Scene ITL] 56 Bian» Curse- her! Faz. Peace, peace !— ’tis dangerous ; sinners’ curses Pluck them down tenfold from the angry heavens Upon the curser’s head. — Beseech thee, peace ! Forgive her — for thy Fazio’s sake, forgive her. Blan, Any thing not to think on her Not yet They shall not kill thee — by my faith they sliall not ! I’ll clasp mine arms so closely round thy neck, That the red axe shall hew them off, ere shred A hair of thee : I will so mingle with thee, That they shall strike at random, and perchance Set me free first — [ The hell sounds, her grasp relaxes, and she stands torpid. F'azio kisses her, ivhich she does not seem to he conscious of. Faz. Farewell, farewell, farewell ! — She does not. feel, she does not feel ! — Thank heaven. She does not feel her Fazio’s last, last kiss ! — One other !— cold as stone— sweet, sweet as roses. \Fixit r. Bian. ( Sloioly recovering, r. c.) Gone, gone I — he is not air yet, not thin spirit 1 — He should not glide away — ^he is not guilty — Ye murder and not execute. — Not guilty ! \Fxit, followed hy Fhilario, r. Scene III. — A magnificent apartment in the palace of Mda^ hella — every appearance of a hall prolonged till morning. Duke, Lords, Falsetto, Dandolo, and Aldabella discovered. Duke. ’Tis late, ’tis late ; the yellow morning light Streams in upon our sick and waning lamps. It was a jocund night : but good my friends, The sun reproves our lingering revelry ; And, angry at our scorning of his state, Will shine the slumber from our heavy eyes. Gon. There’s one, my liege, will sleep more calm than we : But now I heard the bell with iron tongue Scene III.] FAZIO. 57 Speak out unto the still and common air The death-stroke of the murderer Fazio. Duke. So, lady, fare thee well : our gentlest thanks For thy fair entertaining. — Ha ! what’s here ] Enter Bianca, l. followed by Philario. Bian. Ha ! ye’ve been dancing, dancing — so have I : But mine was heavy music, slow and solemn — A bell, a bell : my thick blood roll’d to it. My heart swung to and fro, a dull deep motion. [Seeing Aldabella ’Tis thou, ’tis thou ! — I came to tell thee something. Aid. ( Alarmed and shrieking.) Ah me ! ah me ! Bian. Nay, shrink not — I’ll not kill thee : For if I do, I know, in the other world, Thou’lt shoot between me and my richest joys. — Thou shalt stay here — I’ll have him there — all — all of him. Duke. What means the wild-hair’d manaic ] Bian. ( Moving him aside.) By and by — [ To Aldabella, [ tell thee, that warm cheek thy lips did stray on But yesternight, ’tis cold and colourless : The breath, that stiiT’d among thy jetty locks. That was such incense to thee — ^it is fled : The voice, that call’d thee then his soul of soul — I know it — ’twas his favourite phrase of love — I’ve heard it many a time myself — ’twas rapturous ; That mild, that musical voice is frozen now : The neck whereon thy arms did hang so tenderly. There’s blood upon it, blood — I tell thee, blood. Dost thou hear that ] is thy brain fire to hear it ? Mine is, mine is, mine is. Duke. ’Tis Fazio’s wife. Bian. It is not Fazio’s wife. Have the dead wives ? Ay, ay, my liege ; and I know thee, and well— Thou art the rich-robed minister of the- laws. Fine laws ! rare laws ! most equitable laws ! Who robs his neighbour of his yellow dust, Or his bright sparkling stones, or such gay trash, Oh, he must die, die for the public good. 58 FAZIO. [Act V And if one steal a husband from his wife, Do dive into her heart for its best treasure, Do rend asunder whom Heaven link’d in one — Oh, they are meek, and merciful, and milky — ’Tis a trick of human frailty Oh, fine laws ! Rare laws ! most equitable laws ! Duke, Poor wretch. Who is it thus hath wrong’d thee h Bian. ( To the Duke.) Come thou here. [ The others crowd around her — she says to Falsetto, Get back, get back : the god that thou ador’st. Thy god is dead, thou pitiful idolater ! [ To Dandolo — shewing her dress. I know they are coarse and tatter’d — Get thee back. [ To the Duke. I tell thee, that rich woman — she My liege, I’ll speak anon — my lips do cling together, There’s dust about my tongue — I cannot move it. Duke. Ho, there ! some wine ! Bian. Thank thee, ’tis moist — I thank thee ! [As she raises thegohlet to her lips^ she sees Aldabella, cnA dashes it away.] Her lips have been upon it — I’ll have none on’t. Aid. My liege, thou wilt not hearken to the tale Of a mad woman, venting her sick fancies Upon a lady of my state and honour ! Duke. Lady, there is one state alone, that holds Above the range of plumed and restless justice Her throned majesty — the state of Virtue. Poor sad distraught, speak on. Bian. I am not mad. Thou smooth-lipp’d slanderer ! I have been mad. And then my words came vague, and loose, and broken ; But no\^ there’s mode and measure in my speech. I’ll hold my brain ; and then I’ll tell my tale Simply and clearly. Fazio, my poor Fazio — He murdered not — ^he found Bartolo dead. The wealth did shine in his eyes — and he was dazzled. And when that he was gaily gilded up, Scene HI.] FAZIO 69 She, she, I say — nay, keep away from her, For she hath witchcraft all around her — she Did take him to her chamber. Fie, my liege ! What should my husband in her chamber ? then, A.y — then, I maddened. Hark ! hark I hark ! — the bell, The bell that I set knolling — hark — Here, here. Massy and cold it strikes — Here, here. [Clasping her fore- head» Gon. Sad woman ! Fear not so piteously thy disorder’d hair ! Bian. I do not tear my hair : there should be pain -f that I did ; but all my pain’s within. [ With her hand to her hosoin, t will not break, it will not break — ’tis iron. Duke, If this be true— - Phil. My liege, it is the tale That Fazio told me ere he died. Bian. Ay, sir, ?he dying lie not — he, a dying man, iied not — and I, a dying woman, lie not ; * '^or I shall die, spite of this iron here. Duke [to Aldabella.) There is confession in thy guilty cheeks. "hou high-born baseness ! beautiful deformity ! )ishonoured honour ! — How hast thou discredited l 11 that doth fetter admiration’s eye, ind made us out of love with loveliness ! j do condemn thee, woman, by the warrant if this my ducal diadem, to put on thee j’he rigid convent vows : there bleach anew 'j'hy sullied breast ; there temper thy rank blood jay ashes to thy soul ; swathe thy hot skin n sackcloth ; and God give thee length of days, ( * atone, by this world’s misery, this world’s sin. [Exit Aldabella, r. Bian. Bless thee. Heaven bless thee ! — Yet it must not be. ► Ly Fazio said we must forgive her — Fazio aid so ; and all he said is best and wisest. Duke, She shall have her desert : aught more to ask of us ? 60 I AZIP [A.CT Sian, My childreii — thou’lt protect tliem — Oh, my liege Make them not ^ich : let them be poor and honest. Duke. I will, I will. Bian. Why, then, ’tis time, "tis time. And thou believ’st he is no murderer i {DvkipM?ows oiyJZC, J Thou’lt lay me near him, and keep her away fr )m u° Tt breaks, it breaks, it breaks, — it is not iron , Tiip Curtain Falls. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 3 0112 067298064