822 
 St 938 e 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
EVA: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ERROR. 
 
 A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY THE LADY E. STUART WORTLEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 “ THE VISIONARY,” 
 
 “ QUEEN BERENGARIA’S COURTESY,” ETC. 
 
 JOSEPH RICKERBY, SHERBOURN LANE, 
 KING WILLIAM STREET, CITY. 
 
 1840. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 THIS PLAY IS, 
 
 WITH HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS’S PERMISSION, 
 MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 

 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 » 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Count Enrico Montalba. 
 
 Count Giulio Monzano. 
 
 Prince Guido Bellafiore. 
 
 Il Dottore Reggio. 
 
 The Friar Anselmo. 
 
 Marchese Della Moria. 
 
 Monsieur De Tours, a young Frenchman. 
 
 Anthony, an old English Servant of the Countess Montalba. 
 Antonio, Servant of Count Montalba. 
 
 Giachimo, Page to the Countess Montalba. 
 
 Black Ludovic, a Brigand. 
 
 A Officer. 
 
 Rafhael. 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 Eva, Wife of Count Montalba. 
 
 Flora Clanronald, her Cousin. 
 
 Countess Giacinta Castellanaria. 
 Francesca, Countess Montalba’s Maid. 
 
 Messengers , Soldiers , Bandits , Monks , Sfc. 
 
* 
 
 EVA 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ERROR. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 5, line 10, The note of interrogation should be at the end of line. 
 
 20, — 14, should be enclosed in parentheses, u A lovely silk,” &c. 
 
 „ — 16, for might read harshness. 
 
 j? — 17 , — murdering murder. 
 
 28, — 4, — are merged, make are merged— make. 
 
 — — - 35, — 14, — o’erwhelming power o’erwhelming’s power. 
 
 71, — 20, read Her means thus vast bring — 
 
 136, — 17 , for Deaths read Death ? 
 
 — — 147, — 26, — confidant^ confidante. 
 
 uiaaiy accepted ± mine oner ; tnus 
 Following thy flowery fortunes ! — and behold 
 I drink in health and strength with every breeze, 
 
 That whispers hope, and reassurance, here, 
 
 Baffled consumption has ta’en wing and flown 
 Back to her clouds and vapours — and — I live ! 
 
 Eva. How much do I rejoice, mine own sweet friend, 
 That thus it hath been mine to minister 
 
 B 
 
•2 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act 1 . 
 
 To thy recovery. When I look on thee 
 I love my lord’s bright Italy the more, 
 
 That its sweet airs have medicined thee so well, 
 
 And call’d back to thy cheek the banished rose. 
 
 And wills’t thou, that to thee I should unfold 
 The story of my love, from its first birth 
 Until it bloomed in blushing pride full blown ? 
 
 Thou’rt daring, dearest cousin ! for, in sooth, 
 
 Love joys to hang on its own history, 
 
 And grows full garrulous whene’er it meets 
 With fostering kind encouragement. Methinks 
 ’Twere best proceed at once upon my tale. 
 
 — On mine own happy England’s distant shores, 
 
 Three years ago, my father’s noble friend, 
 Montgomery’s Earl, entreated us to pass 
 Some months at his most hospitable house. 
 
 My father, who had scarcely left his home 
 
 Since my lost mother’s long-mourned death — and since 
 
 A crowd of dark misfortunes clouded o’er 
 
 His life’s horizon — gave at last consent. 
 
 We went there — and there met Montalba : — first. 
 
 He loved me — I believed — and I loved him I 
 Yet though his aspect and his actions showed 
 Entire devotion — deep attachment’s truth — 
 
 No formal declaration made he then ; 
 
 Yet ever and anon, with troubled air, 
 
 Breathed vows of everlasting faith and love. — 
 
 But to be brief — without imparting aught 
 That could elucidate his ’haviour strange 
 To me — unhappiest ! — he departed thence, 
 
 And sought his sunny Italy once more. 
 
 Then passed a year interminably long, 
 
 With six most miserable months: — the while 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 3 
 
 I writhed in all the torments of suspense 
 Till mine habitual movement grew a start — 
 
 And mine habitual breathing seemed a sigh I — 
 
 Suffice it, he returned. — Straight sought me, soon 
 Demanded and received thine Eva’s hand. 
 
 Since then — a year, how golden and how short ! 
 
 Flew — lightened by, with pleasures plumed and loves — 
 And some few months — 
 
 Flora. What means that altered tone ? — 
 
 That hesitating accent faultering low ? — 
 
 Nay! — give me all thy soul ! I pray thee speak ; 
 
 Shut not thy lips upon thy half-told tale. 
 
 Something unspoken weighs upon thy heart — 
 
 These last few months ? — have they less golden been, — 
 Less bright — less happy ? — 
 
 Eva. Hush ! too loud thou speak’st ; 
 
 But since — oh ! Flora! art thou blind indeed ? 
 
 Hast not thyself remarked a heavy change 
 In my beloved Montalba ? Hast not seen 
 How wild, at times, his manner and his speech, 
 
 And always struggling as with some deep woe ? 
 
 Though I have seen — and seen with sharper pain, 
 
 A riot of unnatural mirth break out, 
 
 E’en on the sudden, from his sterner mood — 
 
 The flash of funeral torches o’er the gloom ! 
 
 Flora. I own I have observed his altered mien, 
 
 And restlessness, and gloomier air of late; 
 
 But then — thou know’st I have not dwelt in Borne 
 For long; — and when I first arrived he seemed 
 Most variable and strange of mood — to me ;— 
 
 I knew not he had e’er been otherwise ! 
 
 Eva Ah, yes ! — but day by day, I saddening mark 
 The increase and the inroads of that restlessness ! 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Ad I. 
 
 His noble brow is ploughed with deep’ning lines ; 
 
 His eye is wild and hollow — evermore 
 His varying manner doth distract my soul : 
 
 Perpetual alternation — hour by hour — 
 
 Perplexing inconsistencies appear 
 
 To baffle and to mock my pondering thought. 
 
 Flora. And hast thou not indeed the slightest clue 
 To his disturbing conduct’s ravelled maze ? 
 
 Can’st guess no cause? 
 
 Eva ( agitatedly .) Perchance — yet hardly — yes — 
 
 I have some faint suspicions of the source 
 Whence rise his deep dejection and distress ; — 
 
 Or ere we met he had affianced been 
 To a most lovely maid, of noblest birth — 
 
 In his own native Florence. It should seem 
 That love for me, which overtook his soul 
 With stealthy, soft encroachment, was to her 
 The un worthiest treason of inconstancy. — 
 
 Both being then in the opening bloom of youth, 
 
 ’Twas deemed advisable the espousals should 
 Be for brief while delayed — and ’twas arranged 
 The count should travel in this interval. 
 
 Thus did he visit various distant lands — 
 
 Then came to our sweet island, as I said, 
 
 And there his heart, too, play’d the truant’s part ! — 
 When he rejoined her, that first love return’d. 
 
 And they were at the altar pledged to meet ; 
 
 When death, a ghastly rival, forced her hence, 
 
 And spun the sackcloth of despair and fate 
 From the tom tissue of the marriage robes. — 
 
 He mourned her heavily — -in lonely gloom, 
 
 In solitude unbroken — till his health 
 
 Slow breaking seemed beneath that sorrow’s weight — 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 5 
 
 Then strenuously advised was change of scene, 
 
 Of clime, and air, to soothe him back to life. 
 
 He came once more to England — and we met, 
 
 As I have told thee, yet once more ! — and so — 
 
 We parted not again! — 
 
 Flora. But yet — ’tis strange. 
 
 Why should his grief return upon him thus, 
 
 Once calmed and comforted, and won to peace ; 
 
 Nay more — to happiness ? Say what can mean 
 This flow and overflow of bitterness, 
 
 After the apparent ebb ? — for evermore, 
 
 This second harvest of the tares of tears, 
 
 And weeds of heaviest, worst — heart-widowhood ? 
 
 Eva. Alack ! I know not — shall I whisper thee ? 
 
 ’Tis a most fearful surmise ! black as fate ! 
 
 And my soul rose within me when ’twas breathed, 
 
 To shake it off* as some envenomed snake ; — 
 
 That thought lies fathomlessly deep in tears ! — 
 
 The worst , the unshed ones! — for I dare not weep; — 
 
 I must not give it way, like grief indulged ! — 
 
 Flo. Speak on ! What mean’st thou ? — Say ! what canst 
 thou mean ? 
 
 Eva. It hath been whispered in my shrinking ear — 
 
 That whisper, like the Archangel’s trump, appear’d 
 To shake this solid steadfast globe for me : — 
 
 That that most dreadful curse which can crush down 
 Immortal man to the worm’s level, e’en 
 Insanity — is in Montalba’s blood ! 
 
 Flo. Horror of horrors ! — still not rashly judge. 
 
 Who did suggest to thee this hideous clue ? 
 
 Eva. That fair Venetian countess whom thou know’st — 
 Giacinta — long my husband’s trusted friend. 
 
 Flo. Giacinta ! — Was she long thy husband’s friend ? 
 
6 * 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 It may appear unjust — ungenerous, but — 
 
 I do mislike her strangely ! — there is that 
 In the fierce flash of her resplendent eye, 
 
 Which doth betoken — what, I know not well ; 
 
 But something that seems cloaked in careful wiles, 
 
 And specious studied cunning. — 
 
 Eva. Oh ! not so ; 
 
 Thou art indeed unjust, ungenerous now — 
 
 Accuse her of aught else ! I well believe 
 That lies not in her power ; whatever her will — 
 
 She could not e’en deceive us if she would, 
 
 Her brow is such an index to her soul ! 
 
 Ofttimes I think I see and know her thoughts 
 Ere she herself may know them ; they do rush 
 In such deep crimsoning currents, full and free. 
 
 O’er her clear aspect, that concealment seems 
 Of all things most impossible for her! 
 
 So swiftly, too, the emotions come and go. 
 
 She scarce hath time to cool them— or to school. 
 
 Flo. It may be so— but howsoe’er it be, 
 
 Let not a loose conjecture warp thy mind, 
 
 Or influence thy judgment. 
 
 Eva. Oh, no ! no ! — 
 
 Think’st thou I could believe this and yet breathe ! 
 Think’st thou I could support this thought and smile . — 
 I do not give it credence ! 
 
 Flo. Have a care — 
 
 Methought but now I heard Montalba’s voice : 
 
 And, lo ! — his step : — ’twere best I left thee now. 
 
 Seek him, and probe his hidden wound of woe. — 
 
 Eva. If I could gain but courage so to do ! 
 
 {Exeunt different icays. 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 7 
 
 Scene II. — A Gallery with Verandah and Statues . 
 
 MONTALBA AND EVA. 
 
 Eva. My most dear lord, hast given thy steed the rein, 
 
 In gallant galloping o’er the old Campagna ? 
 
 The flush of exercise is on thy brow — 
 
 Seems in thy limbs its elasticity. 
 
 Hast thou been wildly racing at thy wont ? 
 
 Mont. Yes I I have galloped, galloped o’er the plain ! 
 Would I could ride for ever on and on ; 
 
 Ride as the storm rides in its restlessness, 
 
 Still forward— forward! Wherefore must we pause, 
 
 And put dull check on our delirious speed ? 
 
 Eva. Nay — my Enrico ; were thy courser asked, 
 
 Soon would he snort his answer’s argument. 
 
 Mont. Oh ! with the speed of winds, the haste of thought. 
 To move for ever — who loves sunny skies ? 
 
 Give me the clouds in their impetuous chase ! 
 
 They shot above my head, erewhile, with speed 
 That made my racing little rapid seem ! 
 
 How panted I to be among them then ! 
 
 My tempest-thoughts — a whirlwind of swift wings, — 
 
 Upbear my soul — yet not my self, on high ; — 
 
 Nay, nor my soul ! — save only where the rack 
 Drives o’er the scowling skies with flying scorn, 
 
 And shuts out all the sun ! Would all things were 
 On-driven with such mad swiftness — that were joy! 
 
 Would, would our lives were on one lightning launched. 
 
 That ere the eye’s undazzled, should be done ! 
 
8 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act /, 
 
 Would that one hurrying hurricane could be 
 All that we know of fate ! 
 
 Eva. Bethink thee yet: 
 
 Wouldst have my love a lightning seen and lost? 
 
 Our happiness such hurricane of haste ? 
 
 Wer’t not a fatal fleetness, my beloved ? 
 
 Mont. Thy love, my matchless Eva ! Never let 
 A thought of change, or check, e’er dare to light 
 Upon that sunniest summit of all truth ! 
 
 For happiness — no hurricane perchance 
 
 More like to snow, that when it melts, i’ the heart 
 
 Is gone. A truce to such fantastic talk. 
 
 Hast seen Giacinta — my sweet wife f of late ? 
 
 Eva. Methinks not lately. — Yes ! we met yestere’en, 
 But for one instant — she had little time ; 
 
 Some Festa’s preparations much engaged 
 (If I remember rightly her excuse) 
 
 Her thoughts and moments — to thy taste avowed, 
 
 Love mine ! her visit thus had surely been ; — 
 
 ’Twas but a lightning- glance — and she was gone ! 
 
 Mont. Why, Eva . r thou art merry as the May ! 
 
 And so thou shouldst be, with her best of bloom 
 On thine envermeiled cheek of loveliness ! 
 
 Whose flowery hues that sunrise hair doth tint — 
 
 With added brightness still ! — smile on ! — smile on ! 
 
 Eva. And so I will, if smilingly thou’lt give 
 Thy joyous counsel — but the words thou say’st 
 Are much belied by thine o’erclouded brow ! — 
 
 My smiles are stars, and shine from thine — their sun — 
 Be happy, thou — and all my life’s one smile! 
 
 Mont. Oh ! no ! my face is rather likened to 
 The dial of a Sun of Beauty — thine ! 
 
 Whose changes make it shift its shadows still, 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 KVA. 
 
 9 
 
 Though never may it wholly shake them off! — 
 
 Eva. Never say thou so sad a word again ! — 
 
 Oh! never say it with thine Eva near, 
 
 Beloved Montalba, in thy sunny youth, 
 
 While fortune rains o’er thee her best of wealth, 
 
 When all should sparkle round thee with the dews 
 Of Hope’s glad morning — love’s Aurora too— 
 
 And the fair dawn of thy high station’s pride ! — 
 
 What should — what can affliet thee? — ’twere most strange: 
 On thy clear future not a shadow rests, 
 
 No thought of self-reproach can dim thy past. — 
 
 Mont. This is a tedious theme — and were well changed. 
 
 Eva. To change it then. — Hast thou not promised oft 
 To bear me to thy favourite, flowery Florence — 
 
 Lady of the Appenines and the Arno stream, 
 
 The enchantress — murmuring with her Tuscan tongue 
 Such spells of sweetness that her guests are made 
 For evermore her lovers and her slaves ? — 
 
 Take me to Florence — to thy native place, 
 
 Therefore the loveliest spot on earth for me, 
 
 Even though ’twere disenchanted of all else 
 That gives it beauty ! — Take me to thy home, 
 
 To thine aged father’s presence — nor again 
 With vain and vague excuses cheat my hope. 
 
 Mont. Yes, thou hast changed the theme indeed — full well : 
 ’Tis from the ripple to the roar of storms — 
 
 From the faint mist to midnight’s gulphs of gloom. 
 
 Eva. I cannot understand thy darkling speech. 
 
 Mont. I pray thee pardon me : — my speech is wild ; 
 
 But a dear friend hath told me heavy tales 
 Of his deep sorrows. 
 
 Eva. What dear friend, my lord ? 
 
 ’Tis surely one I know — for hast thou one 
 
10 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Thou wouldst allow a stranger to remain 
 To thine own little Eva ? — Ah ! I guess 
 ’Tis the young Guido who hath lately come — 
 Mont. Guido ? how say’st thou — who ? 
 
 The young Prince Guido Bellafiore — he 
 (hesitatingly ) Whom thou didst know at Florence. 
 
 Eva. I said he had arrived at Rome — and came 
 Two hours ago to see thee : — thou wert far, 
 
 Racing it o’er the wild Campagna’s plains ! 
 
 Tell me — I knew it not before — is he 
 A cousin of Giacinta’s ? — - — 
 
 Mont. Oh ! you know, 
 
 You know he is her brother ! — hush ! no more. 
 
 Eva. Nay, my Enrico — I beseech your pardon : 
 
 I asked is he Giacinta's cousin. 
 
 Mont. ( abruptly .) Aye !— 
 
 Eva. He seems a noble youth, of princeliest port, 
 And gallant bearing — frank and cordial — 
 
 Mont. Aye !— 
 
 Eva. What means this iteration, with a tone 
 So sharp and sudden and so hollow-sounding? 
 
 My husband — thou art aweary — seek repose. 
 
 The noon is sultry — thou must take, indeed, 
 
 A short siesta to recruit thy strength. 
 
 Mont. I will do so — and after this, wilt thou 
 Touch thy dear harp and sing to soothe me, say ? — 
 Eva. All — any thing — -that thou canst wish or ask ! 
 
 Eva. 
 
 Hast thou not heard ? 
 
 Mont, (sharply.) 
 
 What of him ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 11 
 
 Scene III. — A Hall in the Palazzo Ceria, belonging to Count 
 
 Montalba. 
 
 Anthony (behind the Scenes.) 
 
 I told you now it was not me she called !— 
 
 Enter Anthony and Antonio. 
 
 Anto. ’Tis pity that our names are so alike— 
 
 ’Tis too perplexing. 
 
 Antho. Whew !— alike — why — yes— 
 
 Except that you’ve so Frenchified your own 
 You scarcely know it— which I’m not surprised at 
 Why can’t you leave good English names alone— 
 
 Without your onios and your aliases ? 
 
 I would forgive your heresies and plots, 
 
 Your poisonings, robbings, stabbings all — but not 
 Your murdering thus the queen’s sweet English ; no ! 
 
 Anto. Murdering ! — Nay, come, good Anthony — confess. 
 
 Antho. Not I — ’tis barefaced, bloody murder — ’tis ; — 
 
 I wish ye all well hang’d for’t! — so! be cool — 
 
 Now don’t stealetto me, — for I won’t bear it ! 
 
 I ne’er took up the trade o’ knife-swallower yet !— 
 
 Anto. (Aside) More like a knife-grinder, with your harsh 
 English. 
 
 Anth. Well ! hark ye, here, good Tony o ! will you make 
 A kind of compact-bargain with me now ? 
 
 Anto. First tell me clearly what the bargain is — 
 
 Antho. I warrant ye ! — in English clear as crystal — 
 
 And no mistake : — thus then — suppose I now 
 Teach thee this most delectable of tongues — 
 
 White-satin— wax-work English !— for thou know’st 
 
12 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [ Act II. 
 
 Thou dost pronounce it infamously ill ; 
 
 Nay — most abominably. Thy return 
 Shall be, to let me — in thy private ear — 
 
 Abuse thy foreigneering country still — 
 
 Thy language and thy climate. 
 
 Anto. Wherefore so? 
 
 Antho. Indeed I must — I must some outlet find ; 
 
 I must abuse them — soundly too — or burst ; 
 
 I pray thee be my safety-valve — say, done ! 
 
 Anto. (laughing.) Well! — done! — a bargain; for to 
 
 own the truth, 
 
 Though sometimes you may try my patience hard, 
 
 ’Tis most amusing your accounts to hear 
 Of all you meet and see. — But come — be just — 
 
 Own that the climate of the sweet, sweet south — 
 
 Antho. Is fit for salamanders more than Christians ! 
 
 Is it a bargain truly ! 
 
 Anto. Yes — agreed — 
 
 Antho. Well, then I breathe more freely ! ’tis a weight 
 Ta’en off my chest — but where shall I begin ? 
 
 I’m sure I shall end never. — 
 
 Anto. Nay ! consent 
 
 To give me first one lesson in your tongue — 
 
 Methinks I yet can prove the Italian sounds 
 Are softer — piercing to the very heart, 
 
 With thrilling sweetness ; — and for love, for love — 
 
 No language like the Italian on the earth — 
 
 Cara — carissima — oh — silvery words ! 
 
 Antho. I differ from you there outright — that’s all ! — 
 
 And think I can convince you — list to me. 
 
 When I was young, o’er head and ears in love, 
 
 ’Twas thus I wooed my blooming angel — Scroggins ! — 
 
 “ Gie us a good gripe at thy fist, my gal— 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 13 
 
 Clap hands upon it — and go ask thy dad. — 
 
 Let’s have no blushing and no blubbering nonsense : 
 
 Better for worse — wilt have me ?”■ — Now , my friend, 
 
 That’s what I call a language — meaning there, 
 
 And music too ! — No tweedle-dum and deeing — 
 
 But tuneable and tender melody ; 
 
 No drawling, dull caress-her-more’s ! — i’ faith 
 / think that scarce decorous — on my word : — 
 
 My speech was modest, mild, and innocent, — 
 
 Short — short and sweet , — aye, thrilling sweetness there, 
 
 That pierces to the heart, I grant you. 
 
 Anto. Yes ! 
 
 (aside) And pierces both the ears too, better far 
 Than any jeweller ! — (mine are smarting yet 
 Inside and out from tympanum to tip, 
 
 Breaks both the jaws besides this, — in the bargain !) 
 
 Antho. I thought I should convince you ; eh ! thou 
 own’st. 
 
 Anto. (hastily) Oh, any thing — I pray you’d not repeat. 
 Antho. And then the name ! a fine high-sounding name, 
 And very musical, — it rhymes so well ; — 
 
 I turned a bit of verse off on the occasion. 
 
 Ahem ! — ahem ! — Attend to these soft lines : — 
 
 (Turning up his eyes) Whoop! I’d bear many floggings 
 For black Sukey Scroggings. 
 
 Anto. Black! — Was the lady one of colour, then ? 
 
 Antho. No ! blockhead ! — would you put black-ey’d at 
 length, 
 
 And spoil the lovely, tender harmony ? 
 
 But you Italians have no sentiment, 
 
 Nor flights of fancy and imagination. 
 
 Faugh ! I’m quite sick at such gross want of taste ! 
 
 Anto. The maiden with the charming, lovely name, 
 
14 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act /. 
 
 (Which I would speak not for a Seignory !) 
 
 Say — was she won by thy seductive suit 
 And winning wiles of silvery poesy ? 
 
 Antho. Aye — was she ! — We kept company four years, 
 And then ( coughs ) ugh, ugh — ahem! — Why, then it 
 chanced — 
 
 First she was carried off clandestinely 
 
 By a hard-trotting blade i’ the horse-dragoons, 
 
 Who happened to be quartered near at hand — 
 
 Soon after by a galloping consumption ! 
 
 Anto. Thus was she lost for thee ! twice over lost — 
 Alack the day ! — a heavy trial, sure ! 
 
 Antho. And between you and me, I do not doubt 
 She pined herself to death for love of me, 
 
 Sweet daffy do wndilly of my dreams and hopes ! — 
 
 Who have we here ? — Oh ! ’tis that skip-jack page, 
 
 Who tries for ever to make game of me ! 
 
 Enter Giachimo, ivith flowers , who goes to a small table 
 in a corner and begins eating maccaroni. 
 
 Giach. Good Signor Anthony — permit me thus — 
 
 Antho. Once more I tell thee — never Signor me ; 
 
 Nor Mounseer either — I’ll not be insulted, 
 
 You maccaroni -masticating monkey — 
 
 Want you your jacket dusted, laced, and turned ? 
 
 Giach. Delicious maccaroni ! — would you taste 
 Some of these strings — (to put you in good humour ? — 
 Antho. I’d sooner eat your livery shoulder-tags ! 
 
 Strings, quotha — umph ! strings cut from that good cord 
 That yet is destined to adorn thy neck, 
 
 Were quite as nourishing and better savoured. 
 
 Giach. Well ! you refuse my bounteous offer now, 
 
Scene ///.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 15 
 
 Perchance you’ll share that with me. 
 
 Antho. How now, ape ? 
 
 I’ll write my answer on thy back, ere long, 
 
 In characters of good round cudgelling — 
 
 Where came those flowers you’re grasping, spindle-shanks ? 
 Giach. From the Contessa di Castellenaria. 
 
 Antho. Humph ! Then I guess that thorns and snakes 
 are ’midst them. 
 
 Giach. Why so ? — the Countess is a noble lady, 
 
 Indeed most excellent. 
 
 Antho. Canst prove it, boy ? 
 
 Giach. Clearly ! the proofs are in my pocket — there , 
 f shows money ) 
 
 Oh ! a most generous lady — three times o’er. 
 
 Look, I can prove it to ye ! — one — two — three — ( counts 
 money,) 
 
 Antho. What has she oiled thy palm for — mountebank ? 
 Mischief’s abroad — and she makes thee her imp. 
 
 What wants this Countess Castle-in-the-area, 
 
 For ever coming here ? — I wot no good. 
 
 Why what art paid for, child ? — dost know not, chit ? 
 
 Giach. Paid for! — ’tis but the bounteous overflow 
 Of the fair dame’s munificence — but that ! — 
 
 Antho. The over-fiddlestick — I’ll tell thee, then, 
 
 If thou’rt so blank an ignoramus, know, 
 
 Henceforth, thou’rt held the Lady Countess’ spy — 
 
 Her eaves-dropper — reporter — mouth-piece — miscreant— 
 Thou must to crooked services be sworn ! — 
 
 Become one art, one lie — one eye, one ear. 
 
 Giach. Nay, suffer me, at least, to keep in the ark 
 Of my good person two of either kind ! 
 
 Antho. Thou meanest of the latter twain — ’tis true 
 O’ the former to thy precious making goes 
 
16 
 
 KVA. 
 
 \Act I. 
 
 Multiplied millions, — well ! you understand — 
 
 You’re sharp and shrewd enough, young infamy ! 
 
 You must become all eyes — all ears — a lynx 
 To look, a hare to listen ; add to these, 
 
 A mute, save to thy mistress ; or as she 
 
 Should pr ompt thy whisperings — here and there, and hints 
 
 Enough to sow dark discords — wrong — mislead — 
 
 Giach. Thou hast so well detailed in what consists 
 The office that thou speak’st of, Anthony ! 
 
 ’Tis evident thou'st ofttimes filled the same 
 With full and perfect credit to thyself, 
 
 And satisfaction too — to thy employers. 
 
 Antho. Have at thee — buzzard — out on thee, baboon ! — 
 Run for your life, young lily-liver, run ; 
 
 For sudden death is hanging by a thread 
 
 O’er that most brainless skull. — Budge, budge — be off! 
 
 Giach. Nay ! Anthony — a little fun, that’s all. 
 
 No harm meant. — 
 
 Antho. Well! none done, then — let me see; 
 
 Where was I ? — oh ! at discord. 
 
 Giach. Yes — you know 
 
 You are in general. 
 
 Antho. Thou must, like a crab, 
 
 Walk sideling strangely — noiseless as a cat ! — 
 
 Thou must be everywhere eternally — 
 
 Burrowing in corners — ambushed under couches — 
 
 Skulking in passages — through chinks of planks 
 Crannying — mild foretaste of the pillory — 
 
 And thrust up chimneys — sweet anticipation 
 Of loftier rising still — up the highest gibbet ! 
 
 Gich. Why — what hath soured thy temper’s sweetness so ? 
 ’Tis almost irritable, friend ! — to-day — 
 
 What makes thee hate the fair Venetian thus ? — 
 
Scene ///.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 17 
 
 What leads thee to suspect her ? 
 
 Antho. To say truth, 
 
 Nought but her looks — her manners — and her voice — 
 
 Add — her perpetual presence here unasked. 
 
 Anto. How know’st thou that?— Her Excellency oft 
 Hath welcomed her. 
 
 Antho. His Excellency don’t. 
 
 Depend on it that he knows her well — of old : 
 
 For our sweet Countess, such a lambkin, she — 
 
 She’d run into the wolfs mouth — nor suspect. 
 
 Anto. ( aside .) The old man’s senses want no sharpen- 
 ing, troth ; 
 
 They’re ground — and good enough — for any game : 
 
 I must not leave him so to think of her : — 
 
 I fear for others — not for her. 
 
 ( aloud ) Fie ! shame ! 
 
 How canst thou be so hard and so severe 
 On an aimable lady ? 
 
 Antho. There ! — you, now ! — 
 
 How you unenglished that good word, you wretch ! 
 
 Say not aimable — it is a-mi-a-bid. 
 
 Anto. A-mi-a-bel — 
 
 Antho. Come — better — but not right. 
 
 A-mi-a-bul — bul — bul — 
 
 Anto. Yes! — amiab«d. — 
 
 Antho. Right ! — capital. — Now all the rest o’ the day 
 1 may console myself by launching forth 
 ’Gainst your barbarious country. 1 am sure 
 I gave you valuable hints — indeed 
 A lesson worth two guineas, if a groat. 
 
 You know our bargain. — No wry faces now. 
 
 Stand to your colours — screw your courage up. 
 
 Dare you not face my taunts ? — 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Anto. In sooth I dare ! — 
 
 And parry them — or pay them back with usury. 
 
 Giach. (starting.) Was’t the clock struck? I’ve idled here 
 an hour — 
 
 Alas ! forgotten too the flowers — they’re spoilt ! 
 
 The gentle Countess w r ill be sore displeased — 
 
 Their beauty’s faded— they are all but dead. 
 
 Antho. So may the asps and adders be, I hope, 
 
 Which they conceal. ( to Giac.) So now up stairs, my 
 gooseberry ! 
 
 [Exit Giac. 
 
 Anto.. ( anxiously.) Art serious ? — dost thou really think 
 so? — say ? 
 
 Be quick ! — 
 
 Antho. Think what ! — that you’re a gooseberry too ! 
 
 Why really — 
 
 Anto. No ! No ! No ! 
 
 Antho. Nay ! — Not so sure ! 
 
 Anto. Trash ! think’st thou asps and adders are con- 
 cealed? 
 
 Antho. Go to, blunt-witted noodle ; — no, not I ; 
 
 ’Twas but a trope — a figure — a fantastic — 
 
 But I can ill explain it — since that you — 
 
 You poor Italians, are so wanting — all 
 Dull, dull as ditch water — and slow as snails 
 Of comprehension. — You have nothing light, 
 
 Refined, or airy in your mould and make. 
 
 Anto. Compared with yours — you floating feather — 
 Antho. Bed ! 
 
 I find out and forestall your meaning. When 
 Will you do so for me ? 
 
 Fran. 
 
 Enter Francesca hurriedly. 
 
 Antonio — quick. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 19 
 
 His excellency calls you — he seems chafed ; 
 
 He muttered wildly — hoarse and angry. — Run ! 
 
 [ Exit Antonio. 
 
 And Anthony — how came it thou didst not 
 Announce Prince Bellafiore ? 
 
 Antho. How do ye mean? 
 
 Fran. He is above — ten minutes hath been there, 
 
 And the count met him unexpectedly 
 
 Just now — and seemed much vexed — and angered sore. 
 
 Antho. Ho ! then he got in at the garden side ; 
 
 A cool hand for a young beginner — faith ! — 
 
 Now, pretty Francy, — you may take your oath 
 There is a love-case in it ! — Love ne’er deigns 
 Come in at open doors — if he can thrust 
 Himself through half-closed windows. We shall have 
 Our fair-haired Highland lassie soon, I guess — 
 
 Her highness — Principessa — Bell and Flow’ery, 
 
 Fran. Ah ! now I see it all — and they have met 
 At many a festa lately, I have heard ; 
 
 At concerts too, and conversaziones. 
 
 Antho. Done ! — for a thousand then ! — I dare be sworn 
 The settlements are making. 
 
 Fran. ’Twere good luck ! — 
 
 Prince Guido seems a gallant cavalier, 
 
 Handsome, and gay, and noble : — it would be 
 A happy marriage! — At the least ’tis sure 
 He hath a very excellent moustache, 
 
 A lofty-minded-looking cloak besides — 
 
 And a most trust-worthy and priceless cane. 
 
 Antho. Form these the whole sum of his worldly goods, 
 And total of his virtuous qualities ? 
 
 Fran. Oh, no ! a pair of snow-white gloves, gilt spurs, 
 And ink-black love-locks, waving round his brow, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 And such surpassingly-proportioned boots ! — 
 
 Antho. Ha ! ha ! a precious catalogue indeed 
 Of recommendatory charms and virtues ; — 
 
 Also, of rich possessions. — I should trust 
 
 He hath more wealth than thou’st so aptly summed. 
 
 Fran. Oh ! these suffice for present purposes : 
 
 And then a prince ! — why, what can man want more ? 
 
 Antho. Say woman, and I do believe my lass! — 
 
 Thou’rt about right ! — So little satisfies 
 The sweet contented creatures T 
 
 Fran. ( seriously.) I must hence ! — 
 
 I am engaged in most important works, — 
 
 One for the Scotch signora ; ’tis, to place 
 Around the corsage of her lastnevr dress, 
 
 A lovely silk ! — ’tis shot and watered both. 
 
 Antho. How ! shoot and drown it too ?— why ! bless my 
 heart ! 
 
 What barbarous deeds of haberdashery’s might ! 
 
 What murdering-mongering knaves must mercers be ! 
 
 Then, to crown all — you doubtless cut it up ! 
 
 Fran. Assuredly ! — ’tis gored and slashed in style. 
 
 Well, ’tis to place around the front of this 
 (Be sure you keep the secret, Anthony ; 
 
 ’Tis to surprise them all with admiration.) 
 
 Antho. ( putting his finger to his nose,) Mum as the grave! 
 Fran. A trimming finely wrought 
 
 With lace and ribbons ! — and the other is 
 To decorate an apron for myself: 
 
 The first — I think you will agree with me, 
 
 Is most momentous now ! — Heavens ! only think, 
 
 Should some stray end of ribbon — straggling, mar 
 The symmetry — the beauty of the whole, 
 
 Or a wrong pucker in the lace appear — 
 
 Crumpling the prince’s new-blown leaves of love — 
 
Scene 111.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 21 
 
 The bows and streamers, carelessly arranged, 
 
 Might come untwined, and with them loosen all 
 The golden ties of sympathy and soul 1 
 (Sighs) These — these, are dread responsibilities l 
 Antho. And what ofth’ apron, little sorceress? — heigh l 
 Fran. The apron, oh ! (< coquettishly ,) why, that may be 
 perchance 
 
 Of consequence as well — but I scarce know — 
 
 However Paolo and Raphael both, 
 
 And ev’n the grave Guiseppe have remarked, 
 
 That any one could see, from mine own dress, 
 
 My studies were completed with success 
 At Paris ! — 1 must now devote myself 
 To my most arduous undertaking — so 
 Buon giorno ! — Anthony ! 
 
 Anth. “ Bone jaw ! no!” there — 
 
 Why can’t they say jaw-bone, like other Christians? 
 
 Break jaw, I think it is: and pray what means she? 
 
 Oh ! no more jawing, doubtless, in plain English. 
 
 Well ! ’tis the ourang-outangerst language, quite — 
 
 ( Yawning ,) Aw — aw — aw. — Now business, business, 
 straight ! I must 
 
 Go hence and superintend the accounts at once ! 
 
 Ahem ! — with my interpreter — and— -hem — 
 
 My private secretary, (that sounds well !) 
 
 Without them I should cut a sorry figure^ 
 
 And my poor lord would pay a high one too ! 
 
 I like my title — major duomo; — though 
 I never have discovered yet, nor heard 
 Whether I hold that high and noble rank 
 In the infantry or cavalry ; — ’tis strange ! 
 
 And I like not to ask, lest I should show 
 My ignorance, and meet with mocking taunts — - 
 That gibing page would plague me for my pains ! 
 
 [ Exit Anthony. 
 
22 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — The Gardens of the Countess di Castellanaria's 
 Palace. The Countess enters slowly and thoughtfully , with 
 a letter . 
 
 Giacinta. The hours hang heavy on my heart to-day— 
 This love — this hate — this hate and love divide, 
 
 With terrible division, all my soul. 
 
 Both, in the intenseness of their earnestness, 
 
 Are as the awakening storms are to the sea, 
 
 To my unquiet spirit: — it is lashed 
 To agony by their conflicting powers! 
 
 What deed is to be done ? — first Vengeance ! — Come, 
 
 Fire all my thoughts ; — arm all my energies ! 
 
 I do devote myself to thine and thee ! 
 
 When thou art compassed softer hopes may smile ! — 
 
 Let me not dwell on these, lest they should melt 
 My soul with the Infinite of Tenderness ! 
 
 Come, Vengeance, come, and seize mine every thought, 
 Mine every power — for I am pledged to thee ! 
 
 Through seas of sins would wade to call thee mine. 
 
 Is't not most true, that when we first diverge 
 Into the paths of Wrong and ways of Doom ! 
 
 We do unite ourselves with the unforgiven — 
 
 The fallen angels — dread and rebel host! — 
 
 And so re-kindling their extinguished War — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 23 
 
 And rallying round the banners of their strife, 
 Marshalled in pomp of towering bravery, charge 
 ’Gainst all the embattailed Hierarchies of Heaven ! — 
 Thus are we made the champions of the undone — 
 The Imperial Chivalry of hell and death ! 
 
 A horrible and ghastly thought ! — but hence 
 Ye vain reflections ! — I will royally 
 Do battle ’gainst the coward conscience now, 
 
 And plunge into the abyss of threatening fate ! — 
 (After a pause.) 
 
 How hath the insidious love swept o’er my soul, 
 
 In sudden floods of feeling — as the deep ! — 
 Whelming too many formed and fixed intents, 
 
 And laboured schemes : — I must with strenuous care 
 Recall my aims — repeat my efforts now. 
 
 So — that last letter! — I did think I knew 
 The superscription’s characters — behold! 
 
 Yes ! ’tis from one who in our enterprise 
 Hath set his heart and spirit ! — A faint fear 
 That something hath ill-chanced, doth make me still 
 Delay thus the opening it. Pshaw ! — folly this — 
 And childish superstition. ( Reads ) So ! All’s well ! 
 
 ( Reads ) “ One I can freely recommend to thee 
 Most conscientiously. ... A heart on fire — 
 
 For liberty and full equality — 
 
 Distinguished in the late attempts !” — -So — so. 
 
 “ Of rank — and so — and so. — Misdoubt him not — 
 His name Alphonse De Tours.” — Well — all is well ! 
 
 ( Puts up the letter.) 
 
 Now do I marvel that my messenger 
 Is not returned — it is long past the hour ! 
 
 Could I see Ludovic — I would straightway form 
 My plans — for present exigencies— then 
 
24 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Send to invite de Tours, and sound him — ha ! 
 My messenger ! 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Your excellency gave 
 
 Command to me to leave your good despatch 
 Down by the old ruined shrine in the olive-wood, 
 
 Beneath the height where — 
 
 Gia. Hush ! — more chary be 
 
 Of words, I charge ye, sirrah ; — at the least 
 Speak thou in voice less loud. Air’s full of ears 
 As heaven of eyes ! — 
 
 Mess. Your pardon, lady ! — While 
 
 I paused to lay the letter on the shrine, 
 
 He came — and straight perused it, and desired 
 I would convey his brief reply — as thus, — 
 
 He will attend your excellency here 
 This even, after sundown. 
 
 Gia. It is well. 
 
 You may depart. Here — my good Raphael, stay ; 
 
 First bend your fingers o’er this trifling gift — ( gives money,) 
 The acknowledgment of your shrewd services. 
 
 Another time, though, race it with more speed — 
 
 You kept me waiting tediously. 
 
 Mess. Indeed — 
 
 Most gracious madam ! — rang my horse’s heels 
 A merry measure to the inspiring tune 
 Of seven good leagues i’ the hour : — i’ faith I found 
 Most excellent relays, and spared not speed. 
 
 Gia. ’Tis good, you may retire, Sir. 
 
 [Exit Messenger. 
 ’Tis not good. 
 
 It irks me he should come not till the even : 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 25 
 
 Were my plans ripened — all the parts prepared — 
 I might — but ’tis no matter ; — this delay 
 May give me time more fully to mature 
 And mould— 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 So please you, gracious countess, waits 
 Prince Guido Bellafiore, with his friend — 
 
 The Count Monzano, — and requests to know 
 If now your excellency’s leisure would 
 Permit their entrance ? 
 
 Gia. On the instant! — Yes ! 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 My heart’s tempestuous throbbings make me faint. — 
 
 This is a strife where weakness doth too well, 
 
 Antagonizing all the array of power, 
 
 Conquer the loftiest in their mightiest mood! 
 
 Enter Prince Guido and Count Giulio. 
 
 Guido. Fair countess — most beholden are we both 
 To you for this permission to approach 
 Your person at this rude and early hour. — 
 
 We craved admittance at unwonted time, 
 
 Since my friend Giulio hath some leagues to ride 
 To meet his sister — and must soon to horse: — 
 
 Thus we entreat your pardon and your grace. 
 
 Gia. Most welcome are you . — You must pardon me 
 For thus receiving both without dull forms, 
 
 And tedious ceremonials, starched and stiff, 
 
 Here in my gardens ! — 
 
 Giulio. ’Tis as it should be, 
 
 A rose ’midst roses— and a queen of flowers ! 
 
 I have received communications, late, 
 
26 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 From a tried friend of yours, which he requests 
 I should impart to you. — Am I permitted ? 
 
 Gia. ( coldly.) What are they, Sir ? 
 
 Giu. ( piqued.) Urgent and secret both. 
 
 Am I permitted ? 
 
 Gia. Nay, ask Guido’s leave. 
 
 Guido. Think not of me, I pray you. 
 
 Giulio. ’Twill be brief. 
 
 ( They walk apart.) 
 
 Guido. How beautiful ! — how gloriously the smile 
 Breaks through the gloom that ofttimes seems to dwell 
 On those fine features. — -Flora’s fair — most fair : — 
 
 Yet do I almost fear myself, and doubt 
 My own high constancy, when all the spells 
 Of this dark, burning beauty, and rare pride 
 Of this consummate creature thrill my heart ! 
 
 What quenchless fires are in that haughty eye ! 
 
 What worlds of witchery melt around those lips — 
 
 Her dark hair, like some glorious banner floats, 
 
 Which ’twere a joy to follow to the death ! 
 
 Her steps are victories ! and her smiles are queens ! 
 
 And all her looks are Empire ! — As she moves, 
 
 So prodigal of loveliness she seems, 
 
 That the air is set ablaze with her proud brightness, 
 
 And all grows like her that surrounds her even ! 
 
 Till Beauty is the World methinks ! — She comes! 
 
 The Countess and Count Giulio approach. 
 
 Gia. Alas ! Alas ! 
 
 Guido. ( agitatedly.) I fear me thou hast heard 
 Dark evil tidings that disturb thee thus ; — 
 
 Some sad mischanceful turn in thine affairs: — 
 
 If so, I pray thee to command me. Say — 
 
 Can I in any sort assistance lend ? 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 27 
 
 Thou know’st I’m honoured by relationship, 
 
 And near relationship, with thee. 
 
 Gia. Best thanks ! — * 
 
 ’Tis nought mischanceful that concerns myself, 
 
 No evil tidings of a private nature ! — 
 
 ’Tis — nay, ’tis not ! ( Pauses— then breaks forth abruptly 
 
 and enthusiastically ,) 
 
 Oh ! Heavens ! it will have way. 
 
 What can so pierce us to the heart of hearts, 
 
 Back us in every thought that we can shape ; 
 
 Crush us down-down unto the dust of death, 
 
 Multiply in us every faculty, 
 
 All capabilities of sufferance even, 
 
 Enlarge the field, the scope of life and fate, 
 
 Till that embraceth thousand thousands ! all 
 Who ought to feel, though they may feel not — too, 
 
 Measure for measure, as we feel and madden 1 — 
 
 What can do thus but soul-deep sympathy 
 In all our country’s sufferings ? — aye ! but that ! 
 
 Till grows that royal sympathy sublimed 
 Into a god-like courage and resolve, 
 
 When once the fire of indignation bursts 
 Within the awakened bosom, full and free, 
 
 Like long pent-up volcanic flames let loose, 
 
 Till then ’tis the Unapproachable Despair. — 
 
 Say, that unanswered love may wound— wring — waste ! — * 
 Say, that cold disappointment of high hopes 
 May blast, may blight — that death of friends beloved 
 May sickly o’er the very hues of life — 
 
 What is’t to that immensity of anguish, 
 
 Those immortalities of lengthening woe, 
 
 Those uttermost supremacies of grief, 
 
 Which seem to absorb our fates and feelings all — 
 
 All in our Country’s ! Then ten thousand times, 
 
 And thrice ten thousand thousand o’er and o’er, 
 
28 
 
 EVA, 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 We feel — a People’s pangs become our own; 
 
 Our cares are grown colossal — and our soul 
 Breaks every bound, while present — future — past — 
 
 Are merged, make but one date in our wide doom, 
 
 Our most gigantic destiny ! — The Past, 
 
 With all the heroic blazonry of deeds — 
 
 By our forefathers compassed, lights our soul 
 But with a desolate funereal glare, 
 
 So blended with the Present’s deathlike gloom ; 
 
 The Future too ’tis veiled with stern suspense, 
 
 What though the etherial Hope may strive to gild — 
 
 ’Tis by our dark imaginings endued 
 
 With semblance still of the actual ; so we live, 
 
 We feel and live — and only live to feel, 
 
 In our adored high father-land’s deep fate, 
 
 All ages forward — and whole centuries back ! — 
 
 We feel — we live — and do o’erflow ourselves! 
 
 Still with w T hat strong concentered — yet encirling 
 Intenseness of existence in the Now ! 
 
 ’Tis they who love their country next to heaven — 
 
 ’Tis they who see their country wronged and wracked— 
 ’Tis they who feel their country’s fate their own — 
 
 ’Tis they who w 7 ear their country at their heart, 
 
 That would ten million times dare all earth’s deaths 
 To give her freedom ! — that one , only life, 
 
 That know what feeling can be made in man ! 
 
 Aye ! or in woman ! — for the love that forms 
 Her being’s whole makes her one melting heart, 
 
 That bleeds — that breaks in her wrong’d country’s breast, 
 Yet in that melting, like the Alps’ snows dissolved, 
 
 That bear all w 7 ith them — thus ’twill fall to conquer! 
 
 Guido. By heaven ! she fires me till my soul’s in flames l 
 My heart with agonizing ardour bounds. 
 
 Guilio, how stand’st thou, wrapt in dull repose ! 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 29 
 
 Heard’st thou the impassioned call — the awakening cry — 
 The Heaven and Earth -electrifying tones ? 
 
 Saw’st thou the visionary sunburst-light, 
 
 That made her eyes like fountains of starr’d fire ? 
 
 Mark’d st thou her movements, that did monarchize 
 O’er all the soul, and swelled it mountains high, 
 
 Seeking at least to keep in sight her own ? 
 
 The enthusiast passion, mounting more and more, 
 
 Seizes on her's, and lifts it o’er the stars. 
 
 Why ! lady ! — Victory couches at thy feet ; 
 
 Thy looks are armaments — thy words are hosts ! 
 
 Thy thoughts are all a pomp of marshalled war ! 
 
 Thy will’s a triumph — and thy wish a fate ; 
 
 Thy heart one world of fiery chivalry ; 
 
 Thy lowest whisper such a clarion’s blast 
 As shall rock nations yet — and empires change ; 
 
 And wdiere thy shadow" falls, may battle breathe, 
 
 And shouting conquest tower in laurelled state. 
 
 Lo! there was that in thy commanding tone 
 
 That might have roused the almighty Rome from ruin, 
 
 With all her conquerors to the rescue ! — Lo ! 
 
 There was a trumpet-tone of thrilling power, 
 
 To thunderstrike the Caesars in their grave, 
 
 And bind the imperial champions to thy cause — 
 
 Trebly imperial made through thy proud soul, 
 
 That should inspire them with its own dread life. 
 
 With the ecstacy of admiration stunned, 
 
 Breathless with the all-o’erpow’ring torrent tide 
 Of stormy joy and fiery zeal, T stand! — 
 
 And pray thee further to unfold thy soul, 
 
 Pre-eminently glorious as it is ! 
 
 Gia. Alas ! the lightning, from the spirit launched, 
 When clash its clouds — tempestuously a-stir — 
 
30 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Shines but with momentary splendours — frown 
 
 The glooms again, and shut those Storm-Suns out !— 
 
 ’Tis not that hope is feebler, but that all 
 
 The deep responsibilities entailed 
 
 On those who would a work of such large Change, 
 
 Merging ten thousand holiest interests — speed, 
 
 Oppress, with soul-o’ershadowing thoughtfulness ! 
 
 Oh ! Italy ! Our Italy ! — Shalt thou 
 
 Ere rear again thy queen-like brow on high ! — 
 
 Ah ! not before thou hast endured worse woes, — 
 
 The stage of slaughter made and scene of strife. 
 
 But no ! those noble woes may not be w^orse ! 
 
 War, war, may kill the bodies of the brave ; 
 
 But such a peace of slavery and oppression 
 
 Kills the whole Country’s Soul, and makes Life — Death ! 
 
 Mine own sweet Venice — be the first blow struck 
 
 To hack those chains that do disgrace thee now, 
 
 Launched like a royal argosy of price, 
 
 A Warrior-bark of glory, yet once more, 
 
 On the high billowing seas of liberty ! 
 
 For now thou’rt on thy stagnant waters chained, 
 
 That thicken into slime about thee— thus — 
 
 Of all the bravery of their navies spoiled, 
 
 Lit by no beacons, by no banners blazed ! — 
 
 Still on that solemn bed of waters laid, 
 
 Thou’rt like some beautiful and mighty corse, 
 
 Girt with old circumstance of stern decay, 
 
 Touched with pale funeral beauty, sad and deep. 
 
 Oh ! but to send once more through those chilled veins 
 The lightning play of freedom’s pulses ! then 
 To bow to death unmurmuringly ! nay, more , 
 
 With such a rapture as life never knew ! — 
 
 Guido. The proud amazement seals my senses still ! 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 31 
 
 Where are we ? Should not thousand thousand swords 
 Leap from their scabbards when thou speak’st of war ? 
 
 Gia. They will— yet, yet they will — the shuddering snows 
 Shall loosened fall, from all the awakening hills. 
 
 Aye ! avalanche on avalanche shall roll, 
 
 When peals the trumpet-summons to this war ! 
 
 Roll — roll, ensanguined and incarnadined, 
 
 In the heart’s blood of heroes — founts of fire ! — 
 
 That soon shall melt them, till the immingling sea— 
 
 In coloured overflow — make earth blood-red ! 
 
 But that shall yet subside — nor leave a stain, 
 
 One blush of burning shame for all her wrongs ! 
 
 And ever after, the bright hues of peace, 
 
 The whiteness of the unspotted liberty, 
 
 And all the sunshine of man’s happiness 
 Shall bless her in the gazing eye of heaven ! 
 
 And wilt thou join us, prince and cousin ? say ! 
 
 Guido. Lead on ! — all lesser lights obey the sun ; — - 
 The spirit stirs the frame e’en as it lists. 
 
 Gia. I need not caution thee ; no word, no breath ! 
 
 Guido. Lady! my voice is sheathed with my sheathed 
 sword. 
 
 Gia. Both shall be freed from their imprisonment; 
 Meanwhile ’twere best with Count Monzano straight 
 Thou shouldst confer.— -So he shall lay before thee 
 The map of our design — and this proud web 
 Unravel for thy scrutiny, that yet 
 Shall toil the insulting tyranny, and tame ! — 
 
 Guido. Hath this been long designed ? 
 
 Gia. Not long — some months.— 
 
 Guido. I have myself full oft revolved such things. 
 
 Who hath not, that hath soul and sense of feeling ? 
 
 But the laid Train of mine unbreatlied-of Thought 
 
32 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IT. 
 
 Paused for such spark as thy bright speech hath proved! 
 ’Tis now one flame — and sways, and rocks, and gleams, 
 
 And shoots with burning, spiry rings to heaven. 
 
 Gia. No longer cousin — be my brother now. 
 
 Our souls are one. 
 
 Guido. Thy brother ! — -happiest he 
 
 Who dwells the nearest to thy noble heart ! 
 
 Glorious enthusiast ! thy soul dazzles mine ! 
 
 Enter Servant with a note. 
 
 Servant. Countess — the bearer will in brief return. 
 
 Gia. ’Tis well : inform me when he waits — retire ! — 
 
 (To Giulio.) ’Tis from De Tours — and prays an interview ! 
 May he be all our hopes are taught to look for ! — 
 
 Guido. Adieu, Giacinta ! We shall meet again, 
 
 Ere long, again — and oftentimes, I trust. 
 
 Gia. Aye ! gallant Guido ! — Giulio ! yet a word. 
 
 He in one instant’s space shall follow thee. 
 
 [Exit Guido. 
 
 I pray thee — caution him to lock his lips. 
 
 So rash — so young — I tremble ! * Every look 
 Beams a resplendent and unshrouded truth ! — 
 
 Why, why so silent art thou, and so cold ? — 
 
 Giulio. Perchance thy heart can answer that for me. 
 
 Gia. Nay ! — -jealous ? didst thou swear not, o’er and oe’r, 
 Never to nourish that poor passion’s venom. 
 
 Giulio. Giacinta ! there are times when man’s all man , 
 That is — an abject worm — that writhes and feels, 
 
 Answering each torture with convulsive motion. 
 
 Gia. Go to ! thou’rt weak indeed ! thou’lt rouse my scorn, 
 If some light fancy draws me to this youth. 
 
 I love thee not the less ! — and so thou’rt sure 
 That no inconstancy can quite divide us ! — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 33 
 
 Giu. ’Tis most cold comfort ! — 
 
 Gia. (impatiently.) Follow him ! — He waits ! — 
 
 Giu. I go ; and then proceed to meet my sister. 
 
 Therefore, farewell, Giacinta, till the morning. 
 
 {Exit Giulio. 
 
 Gia. Up ! — mine exultant rapture ! — to the skies. 
 
 Up ! — up ! — with all thy joy ! my life ! and soul : 
 
 He loves me : — yes ! I know it ! — feel it ! — hug 
 The deep, thrice-costly knowledge to my soul ; 
 
 That kingly, kingliest knowledge ! I am made 
 All one bright beatific Feeling now ! — 
 
 My spirit burns — one gush of torrent-gladness — 
 
 A-blaze, with all the imperial consciousness ! — 
 
 And thron’d on that most conquering thought of thoughts. — 
 He loves me ! — Heaven and Earth ! resound those words ! 
 Become one mighty echo of my heart ! — 
 
 My Guido ! mine l oh! words too wild with bliss ! 
 
 He loves me ! yes, those fervid, dark-blue eves 
 Proclaimed with every look the impassioned truth ! — - 
 Yet — yet I see him — with his death-black hair, 
 
 Dashed backwards from his proud, monarchic brow ! — 
 Where sate enthroned the majesty of soul ! 
 
 How beautiful those features ! Heavens ! how perfect ! — 
 How 7 sculpture-like in their transcendent grace ! 
 
 Pale — the proud paleness of the enthusiast thought, — 
 
 And passion — passion — too, yet more profound ! 
 
 Pale as the heaven — w r hen whitening with its stars, 
 
 So is thy countenance with thoughts and dreams. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. Madam— -the messenger your pleasure waits. 
 
 Gia. Bid him assure his master, from myself, 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 His speedy presence will be welcome here. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Ere many minutes have elapsed, methinks, 
 
 Will be arrive— this gallant young He Tours. 
 
 (looks at note.) Yes! — in the piazza, close at hand, he 
 dwells, 
 
 And Avill not tarry : when he leaves me, then 
 Must I address myself to business straight ; 
 
 And after sundown comes —the Brigand s King 
 The staunch black Ludovic, our firm— ally ! 
 
 That sound may jar — but what are sounds but breath !— 
 First should I send dispatches, far and wide, 
 
 Reporting our proceedings and intents, 
 
 Detailing all to — the conspiratois . 
 
 That word doth grate me strangely ! — change it, then— 
 
 As our success will do — if we succeed . 
 
 Shame ! shame ! my heart, to nurse so poor a doubt. 
 
 We shall — we must succeed. — All smiles around, 
 
 But most th’ indomitable heart within ! 
 
 Then ’twill be conquerors! — patriots!— the armed deliverers— 
 The avenging heroes — saviours of their country ; 
 
 While charioted in warrior- state, we roll 
 From triumph on to triumph — power to power 
 Aye ! sovereignty to sovereignty ; for so 
 Shall we then reign i’the people’s love and faith, 
 
 That jewelled tires of kings shall pave our paths ! 
 
 And those who fall— for surely some must die— 
 
 Shall fall with trophies for their monuments 
 No longer the conspirators — the martyrs ! 
 
 And those that live, and live to seize the prize, 
 
 Shall walk enlaurelled through triumphal ways. 
 
 No longer the conspirators — the champions ! 
 
 For Circumstance— and Accident— and the Actual, 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 35 
 
 With all the Enthroned Omnipotencies sway, 
 
 That most command and most controul mankind ! — 
 And lord it o’er the immortal, boundless soul. 
 
 Roll, roll, ye days — roll, hurrying to that hour 
 Which shall develop e our august design ! — 
 
 Then step by step shall I on high ascend, 
 
 Even to my wild ambition’s cloud-capped peak; 
 
 For I would reign o’er this most royal land, 
 
 My then regenerate Italy ! — And now 
 
 With loftier zeal soars up my longing thought — 
 
 The crown that I would challenge worlds to gain, 
 
 I covet most to lay at — Guido’s feet ! 
 
 Now pours the deluge of delight once more, 
 
 With such immeasureable o’erwhelming power, 
 
 I scarce can bear the suffocating sense 
 Of mine unfathomable happiness ! 
 
 So ! — stings one thought to qualify it yet — 
 
 One forked fear — one jarring, jealous doubt. 
 
 Doth not his heart still lean to Flora — still 
 Wear her detested image in its core ? 
 
 Nay ! let me bind him so unto our cause — 
 
 So rouse his spirit — and so trance his soul, 
 
 That thus that cause and I together may 
 Depose each other feeling — hope — and aim — 
 
 And fill up all the avenues of soul ! — 
 
 Let him be wedded unto both ! — shall I 
 That glorious rival with distrust regard ? 
 
 No ! — but there build assurance, fixed and firm, 
 
 And found all confidence ! — A footstep — ha ! 
 
 Enter M. De Tours. 
 
 De Tours. Lady ! my homage and myself are laid — 
 Where worthier things are prostrate — at thy feet. 
 
 d 2 
 
36 
 
 EVA. 
 
 \_Act II. 
 
 Gia. With pleasure and with pride I welcome thee ; 
 
 I welcome thee to our eternal Rome, 
 
 To the high court and congress of our cause ! 
 
 Enough !— for hurryingly on the untripped heels 
 Of our design now T execution treads ! 
 
 We must at once deep matters weigh, and probe 
 And compliments, and ceremonials w r aive. 
 
 De Tours. Right willingly — the papers I have brought, 
 This evening to thy hand shall be conveyed; 
 
 These will acquaint thee with the amount of aid 
 
 Cooperation — contribution s — all 
 
 Thou mayst expect from certain quarters !— So ! 
 
 This prospers !— Lady, I rejoice in truth, 
 
 And wish our bright auspicious day had dawned !— ■ 
 
 Gia. Ere long it will — to wrap all the earth in light. 
 
 De Tours. I have borne part before in strifes like this, 
 And, pardon me, I own w r as half awearied 
 But with fresh zest I enter on this cause : 
 
 The stage is different, if the play’s the same ; 
 
 And troth, it is a pleasant theatre — 
 
 This same bright, sunny Italy of yours — 
 
 And ’tis a novelty, besides, for those, 
 
 Who here are joined are young beginners all, 
 
 Tyros and novices ! — ’Twill be amusement 
 To watch their raw rehearsings ; — as for us — 
 
 The tw r elve years’ urchin’s like a veteran now ; 
 
 Each Polythecnic pupil might confront 
 The old Carthaginians’ famed Tactician well — 
 Check-mate bold Hannibal — make Caesar’s self 
 Come — S ee — and slink back conquered— to re-write 
 His Commentaries— made the pupil’s pupil ! 
 
 There’s nothing in our glorious France I swear, 
 
 New — strange — untried — or freshening to the soul, 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 37 
 
 I’ the way of plots, broils, outbreaks, civil wars, 
 
 Rebellions, — revolutions, — regicides, — 
 
 Schisms, — seizures, — condemnations, — executions, — 
 
 Or private crime, — or public clamour left ! — 
 
 This makes our home seem strangely tiresome — 
 
 ( yawns ) Exceeding dull and most monotonous ; 
 
 Our life’s a very vegetation there ! 
 
 Since novelty’s the salt and seasoning still 
 Of every pleasant relaxation ! — faith ! — 
 
 That gives its charm to dangers — or to dress — 
 
 Three days of death for Freedom — or a dance ! — 
 
 Gia. Beware how in this light and reckless strain, 
 
 To my impassioned countrymen you speak — - 
 The inflamed, impetuous, hot Italians. Strive 
 To cloak this playful and too trifling mood 
 In strong enthusiasm’s colouring garb, 
 
 Else thou wilt shock their feelings, wound their pride, 
 
 And harm in lieu of helping us — beware ! 
 
 De Tours. Oh ! trust me ! I will stalk on glory’s stilts, 
 And mouth it most grandiloquently well ! 
 
 Without shows, helps, appearances, and names, 
 
 Glory would grin too like a skeleton, 
 
 And then the excursive fancy might take wing — 
 
 From honour’s heights — unto the — hospital ! 
 
 But truly, lovely countess, it needs not 
 I should assume a zeal I deeply feel : — 
 
 I am enthusiastic, though, perchance, 
 
 You scarce can reconcile this truth with all 
 That I have showm of recklessness and mirth. 
 
 You are deceived, then ! We gay sons of France 
 Can snap our fingers ere we bind our w T ounds — 
 
 Catch at the red-hot cannon-balls that w'hizz 
 Around us, shattering hundreds in their path — 
 
38 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Dance o’er the gulph that yawns for our destruction — 
 Sing—and defy the world — or laugh and leave it. 
 
 Gia. I doubt ye not, but such mixed character 
 Is so unlike the temper of this clime, 
 
 Thou yet must act a part— or wilt — I feel . 
 
 If not , thou wilt bring ruin on us all ! — 
 
 Now to the apartments in my palace, sir, 
 
 I pray thee, follow me ; — if time permits, 
 
 There learn the measures we have taken late — 
 
 The methods we propose — the means we boast. 
 
 It wants, methinks, to sunset yet an hour. 
 
 De Tours. In all things thou but speak — let me but serve. 
 
 [ Exeunt . 
 
 Scene II.— An Apartment , adorned with Statues , %c. in the 
 Count Montalba’s Palace. 
 
 EVA AND FLORA. 
 
 Eva. Hath our young prince been lately here, I pray ? 
 
 Yes ! thou’rt so beautifully blushful ! — yes ! 
 
 I am entirely answered by those tints ! 
 
 Methinks his presence is indeed thy sun — 
 
 It leaves so rosy -red a track behind — 
 
 Nay ! never shake those glist’ning ringlets thus — 
 
 To veil thy bright confusion — hrightlier through 
 Their golden shadowings bums that blush of fire ! — 
 
 Come, come, be less deceitful ! — and confess!— 
 
 Flora. Nay, my sweet cousin, mock me not to-night — 
 
 I have a brooding sorrow at my heart. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 39 
 
 And thou ! — how is’t that thou canst jest and smile ? 
 
 Eva. Because I am too wretched for aught else ! 
 
 Did I give way ’twere more than I could bear — 
 
 Besides, I’m learning smiles to soothe and cheer him — 
 
 My poor Montalba! — No ! I dare not dwell 
 On this dark theme : — in mercy talk to me ! 
 
 Tell me of all that hath befallen ! thou saidst 
 But now, a sorrow had o’erta’en thee — what ? 
 
 Nought but the shadow of mine own — I trust ! 
 
 Flora. And that , my Eva, were enough to cross 
 My happiest fortune with a cloud of gloom. 
 
 But — in addition— I — no ! he I mean — 
 
 That is — ’twas she — 
 
 Eva. Now let me spare thee all 
 
 The avowal of thy love ! thou know’st I know it ! 
 
 Flora. Ev’n so ! thou dost ! — thence spring my sorrows 
 then. 
 
 The worm is at my heart — the envenomed worm 
 That gnaws its way through all things ! — jealousy! — 
 
 Eva. Of whom ? — 
 
 Flora. Of her — that proud Giacinta ! — 
 
 Eva. Her ? — 
 
 Flora. None other ! Yes ! he hath been here, and the 
 hour 
 
 He staid with me spake nothing but her praise — 
 
 Pride — torture — anger locked my lips — close — close — 
 
 But if they uttered not, my aspect did ! — 
 
 He marked it not ! — and still spoke but of her, 
 
 Coupling her name with sounding epithets — 
 
 Proud ! — glorious! — generous ! — Oh ! I know not what ; 
 
 But know I echoed each with smothered sighs 
 That broke my heart to heave — much more to check !— 
 
 Alas ! sweet Eva ! — thou didst bid me talk, 
 
 And of myself — but heartless doth it seem, 
 
40 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 And coldly selfish, while thy heavier woe 
 Works in thy soul , and wakes distraction there. 
 
 How sunken is thine eye — thy cheek how changed — 
 
 A sleepless night of watchings was thy last? 
 
 How fared it with the count ? 
 
 Eva. He could not rest : 
 
 Starting from sleep whene’er sleep half o’ercame — 
 
 And uttering wild and dreadful things — as threats 
 ’Gainst haunting fiends ; implorings, sad and deep, 
 
 To unseen beings — strange, delirious things, 
 
 That seemed to me hut raring — raving- — all- 
 Oh ! pitying Heaven support me ! 
 
 Flora. Hark! — ’tis him. 
 
 ■CtM. Him ! — then the wretched hypocrite must feign, 
 Freeze back the tear, and coin the writhing smile. — 
 
 Once more, oh ! pitying Heaven ! support me ! — 
 
 Enter Montalba. 
 
 Mont. Gone ! 
 
 Say ! is he gone ? — he haunts me day by day, 
 
 And multiplies that image in my dreams. 
 
 What ! — are ye voiceless both ? — Say is he gone ? — 
 
 Flora. Whom meaii’st thou ? — 
 
 Mont. That avenging shape of wrath — 
 
 Clothed in the horrid beauty of that likeness. 
 
 ( Checks himself . ) Nay! — I am wandering — many sleepless 
 nights 
 
 Have fevered me to hot delirium’s height — 
 
 I mean, is Guido gone ? — 
 
 Flora. An hour ago ! — 
 
 Mont. I breathe ! It is too much — too much to bear 
 Within — without — so haunted with that form — 
 
 Oh ! I were happiest of all men, if he 
 Were but removed for ever from these eyes ! 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 4 I 
 
 Flora, ( aside to Eva.) Can lie be jealous of the youthful 
 prince ? 
 
 Can that be cause of all his wildness — say ?— 
 
 [Exit Mont. 
 
 Eva. Oh ! no ! — no ! — no ! — Would ’twere so ! but thou 
 know’st — 
 
 This had beginning ere Prince Guido came. 
 
 Flora. Aye ; but far worse and worse hath he become, 
 From the first moment that they met till now ; 
 
 And thou wert ever gracious to the youth, 
 
 Thinking to please Montalba, and to prove 
 Thy sympathy with him, and kind respect, 
 
 For the most mournful memory of his love — - 
 By such sweet courtesy and favour shown — * 
 
 I trust — I trust ’twill prove but jealousy, 
 
 Which burns so fiercely in this fervid air — 
 
 Some slight distemperature, perchance, at first, 
 
 Which strange uneasy fancies — wearying cares — 
 
 Some trouble, some vexation’s strife have caused — 
 
 (In private or in public matters — which, 
 
 Lest it should irk thee, he concealed from thee !) 
 
 Might have disturbed the mind’s nice equipoise — 
 
 On this would jealousy engrafted grow 
 Quickly to horrid strength — thus sown by chance, 
 
 Even from light-scattered seed should spring apace ! — 
 
 For where the soil hath loosened been — upturned 
 By aught of harassing suspense or doubt, 
 
 Rank weeds too well do thrive and swiftly sprout — 
 
 Eva. I cannot hope it ! No ! — it is not that ! 
 
 Enter Montalba again. 
 
 Mont. Ha ! he hath not returned ; for that thank Hea- 
 ven !- — 
 
4*2 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act //• 
 
 Eva, did I inform thee I had heard 
 
 From my loved friend of boyhood’s years ? — that friend 
 
 I ever told thee ’twas my dearest wish 
 
 That thou shouldst meet — and value — as do I — 
 
 Brave Della Moria ! — who hath entered late 
 A foreign service — and a bright career 
 Hath run already : he will be in Rome 
 This time to-morrrow. 
 
 Flora. ( aside to Eva .) He is calmed and changed. 
 
 Eva. ( aside to Flora.) Yes ! But ’twill never last ! — 
 (To Count Mont.) You told me not, 
 
 Beloved Enrico ! But I do rejoice 
 To learn these tidings — and impatient feel 
 To show thy friend I love him — for thy sake. 
 
 Thou oft hast told me of the warmth — the depth 
 Of this true friendship — that he knows thy soul, 
 
 Which hoards no secrets from him — 
 
 Mont. Would — oh ! would — 
 
 How said I ? he had fought ! — Yes ! he hath been 
 ’Mid Battle’s noble terrors and array !— 
 
 The wars — the wars — ah ! there my pathway lies ! 
 
 Give me that glorious occupation’s joy ! — 
 
 I would plunge deep into the shades of strife, 
 
 Pierce through the nodding, plumy forest’s ranks, 
 
 Like to the crashing thunderbolt of heaven, 
 
 And riot in the luxury of a choice, 
 
 ’Twixt many a rapid death ! — Aye ! war’s hot field ! — 
 
 Why ! ’tis the very capital of Death !- — 
 
 The spears, blood-gilt, his palace’s proud pillars ! — 
 
 The rustling banners his resplendent roofs — 
 
 The heaps of slain his monumental piles. 
 
 The Wars are in my Soul ! — Oh ! let me burst 
 These cold, enslaving bonds of peace, and rush, 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 43 
 
 Free as the cataract rushes, on and on ; 
 
 And dash as that does — to destruction’s depths ! — 
 
 Here there yawns no abyss for those would fling 
 The vain world off — and leave life too behind them ! 
 
 Ah ! my own Eva ! look thou not so sad ! — 
 
 ’Tis in my nature this most wild unrest, 
 
 And ever and anon disgust at life ! — 
 
 Thou smil’st ! — My sun of life smiles round thy lips 
 Though with the rosiest reddening of a setting ! — 
 
 It cannot wholly set — while beams that smile ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Flora. That smile ! it fades with his departing steps, 
 
 Like some crushed flower, that withers leaf by leaf. 
 
 Eva. ( despondingly . ) I told you ’twould return on him 
 ere long — 
 
 The unquiet fit — the fever — and the fire. 
 
 Flora. And yet methought, though true, his words were 
 wild, 
 
 There seemed no show, no startling signs nor marks 
 Of real derangement ! — ’tis not hopeless, sure — 
 
 Some brief hallucination this may prove, 
 
 That yet may pass and leave the horizon clear. 
 
 Hope on ! — hope ever ! — Nay ! thou’rt weary quite : 
 
 Thy tottering limbs can scarce thy frame sustain — 
 
 Seek some refreshment of repose, I pray. 
 
 Eva. Repose ! — thou mock’st me ! — 
 
 Flora. For his sake — his sake — 
 
 If thou wert ill where then his nurse ? — his friend ? — 
 
 His comforter — 
 
 Eva. His keeper ! — there’s the w r ord ! — 
 
 Curdle ! my blood — my pulse ! check, check thy play ; 
 
 For this tops the uttermost of horror’s worst ! 
 
 Flora. For his sake come — for his sake follow me — 
 
44 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Let these poor aching temples for awhile 
 Press the still pillow — for his sake —his sake ! — 
 
 [She gently leads out Eva. 
 
 Scene III . — A lower Apartment in Count, Mont alba' s 
 Palace. 
 
 ANTHONY, ANTONIO, AND GIACHIMO. 
 
 Antho. ’Tis an oppressive day — I scarce can breathe ; 
 
 I’ faith, the climate’s very sultry now — 
 
 And our lord count is very strange, methinks. 
 
 ’Tis hot unbearably, I vow and swear, 
 
 Inside and outside too o’ the house — just now ! — 
 
 Too hot to hold me , were’t not for the sake 
 Of my sweet Lady Eva — gentlest lamb ! 
 
 Heard you the thunder-storm this morning roll 
 O’er this old, ricketty, ruinous Rome, I warrant, 
 
 (This subterraneous, strange, amphibious place ! — ) 
 
 As though ’twould shake those few old bones — that seem’d 
 Quite out of joint enough before — to pieces ! — 
 
 Your temples of Jew- Peter aud the rest ? 
 
 I am glad they had the decency to give 
 
 The Christian Peter a good thundering new one ! — 
 
 Pheugh ! — ’tis so hot ! — there is no breathing here ! 
 
 I feel half strangled — stifled in my clothes. — 
 
 Giach. ( Walking round him and surveying him!) I 
 wonder not ! poor Anthony ! no doubt — 
 
 They feel uncomfortably strange to you ! 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 45 
 
 Especially in this hot weather, now : — 
 
 ’Twere better you took oft’ your coat, methinks. 
 
 Antho. You’re about right ! I vow I think so too ! ( takes 
 off his coat.) 
 
 Giach. Your waistcoat's doubtless sadly in your way — 
 Suppose too — you divest yourself of that — 
 
 Antho. Well ! — I have no objection — so here goes — 
 ( takes off his waistcoat .) 
 
 Why ! you young hang-pup ! — What art grinning for ? 
 
 Did’st never see a stalwort man, like me, 
 
 A proper man of portly make and mould — 
 
 Take off his waistcoat on hot days before ? — 
 
 Why ! what art after ? — Round and round you step 
 As in a mill — the tread-mill were your place , 
 
 I wish for your sake ’twere — with all my heart. 
 
 Giach. And you my comrade ! — Tony! — well and good!— 
 But Anthony, poor Anthony ! — I feel — 
 
 Indeed I do, 1 feel for you ! — Alas !- - 
 How awkward must that chafing collar prove! 
 
 Antho. You’d think the halter pleasanter, perhaps? — 
 
 Ha ! ha ! What we’re brought up to — that you know ! — ■ 
 Giach. Not I . — \iyou prefer it I would run 
 And fetch one that should suit you. Speak the word ! 
 
 There may be one all ready made for you ! 
 
 Antho. Thou frontless impudence ! — keep off ! — keep off! 
 Giach. Nay ! — cool and comfortable — ’twere be sure — 
 And economical ! — ’twould save all washing ! 
 
 Now do, dear Anthony — do let me run ! 
 
 Antho. Brat! — Save all washing! — Save a murder! — 
 Babe !— 
 
 Run — yes ! — I’ll run you through with this good cane ! — 
 
 ( Shakes a cane at him.) 
 Be off, or you’re a double-dead baboon ! 
 
46 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Tramp ! — tramp ! 
 
 Giach. I feel suck pity for your case ! 
 
 Those cramping stockings ! — those confining shoes ! — 
 
 That shirt’s vile bondage ! — poor ,poor Anthony ! — 
 
 Antho. If you can find, by rummaging within 
 That numskull, hoisted on your two lank shoulders — 
 
 One small groat’s-worth of brain, and that can boast 
 One grain of meaning — give it me at once ! — 
 
 Giach. Poor Anthony ! — We know you ne’er were used 
 To wear a thread or shred of clothes before ! 
 
 But smeared with paint, ran wild in your old woods ! 
 
 You ancient Britons ! — 
 
 Antho. Ancient Britons ! Ho ! 
 
 Am I an ancient Briton ? — Mongrel ! — II 
 1 am no ancient Briton ! — grant me patience! — 
 
 Do I look like an ancient Briton ? — fool ! 
 
 Giach. Oh, no ! in truth, most young, and fresh, and green ! 
 But want a leetle painting o’er afresh, — 
 
 Just a few brightening touches of the brush ! 
 
 For here and there the paint’s turned slightly rusty — 
 
 Just needs fresh varnishing, perhaps — or scouring ! — 
 
 Antho. Painting ! I’ll paint you sirrah — black and blue — 
 Good black and blue ! — in stripes three inches broad: 
 
 What scouring ? — Pll scour your thick skin, and scourge it, 
 Ape! Ancient Briton ! heard man e’er the like ? — 
 
 Giach. (coaxingly,) Come! Anthony! — you know — you 
 know ’tis true ! — 
 
 They wear no clothes in England ! — and you know 
 Dear Anthony! your fingers are your forks! 
 
 Your tables are your knees — you keep no cooks ! 
 
 A^ou ante-diluvian Druids nothing eat 
 
 Save husks and acorns, and do dwell in dens ; — 
 
 And once a year are roasted in brass bulls, 
 
Scene III . ] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 47 
 
 Which gives your name — John Bull. Come don’t be shy — 
 
 Don’t be ashamed of your own country, now ! 
 
 Let’s have it out, all friends together here ! 
 
 Dear Anthony ! good Anthony, take heart ! 
 
 Antho. ( Running after him with his cane , trying to hit 
 Giachimo , who nimbly avoids him ; he has done 
 thus during the latter part of Giachimo' s speech ,) 
 You scaramouch ! — you scarecrow ! — Why, you scrap! 
 
 You chuckling popinjay ! — you chattering pie ! 
 
 You ounce ! — you patch ! — you shred ! — you thing ! — you 
 nothing ! 
 
 You slippery eel ! — you elf! — you eft ! — you emmet ! — 
 Anatomy ! — abortion ! — keep your distance, 
 
 Or you are condemned ! killed! dead and buried ! burnt! 
 Singed with quick lime, till nothing quick’s left of you ! 
 
 And nothing dead besides, you oaf! — you owl ! — 
 
 And dug up, and dissected — limb by limb, 
 
 If those long spillikens be limbs indeed ! 
 
 I’ll scarify you ! pulverize you ! — Puppet ! 
 
 Squeeze you to air and atoms ! — stuff you, show you ! — 
 Make you a bottle-imp — and seal you up ! 
 
 Cork you so tight, you’ll leave your skittish tricks ! 
 
 Or flay you here alive, and sew your skin 
 Into a likely bag for backy snuff! — 
 
 That all the world may sneeze at you ! — you shrimp ! 
 
 Anto. Now Anthony — come, come, be cool — be cool. — 
 Antho. I wish I could in this hot furnace-clime. 
 
 Giach. {To Antho.) You would look grand now in a gilded 
 frame, 
 
 New plastered o’er with coat of paint, I wot ! 
 
 That coat of many colours fitting close. — 
 
 A fine old full-length painting all alive : 
 
 Not a rude villainous daub, smeared coarsely o’er. 
 
48 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Though I should doubt your native artists' taste ; 
 
 Now, what is’t called tit — tat — tat-tooing, heigh ? — 
 
 Antho. Won’t 1 tat-too you, tag-rag ! — Hop — tom-tit ! 
 
 Or you are trounced and made mincemeat of ! — How ! — 
 
 You odd ! you end ! you farthing’s- worth of frippery! 
 
 You dolt ! — you dunce ! — you chimpanzee-faced changeling ! 
 Why, who hath filled that poor pin’s head of yours 
 With such unconscionably trumpery trash ? 
 
 Giach. ( gravely.) Good father Anastasio ! — learned is he ; 
 Hath all your history at his fingers’ ends ! 
 
 Antho. Would I could have him at my fingers’ ends ! — 
 Brass bulls and acorns ! — Shall 1 go stark mad ? — 
 
 ( Mimicking him ) Good father Anastasio ! — Good for what ? 
 For pounding in a mortar, I’ll be sworn. — 
 
 Well ! one part of his name’s appropriate too. 
 
 Anto. What part ? 
 
 Antho. An ass — You’re one too — if you doubt it. 
 
 Druids and husks — good Lord ! i’ faith I’m husky, 
 
 Wasting my breath on such a raw racoon ; 
 
 You will-o’-the-wisp, without one glimmering sparkle — 
 
 You Jack-a-dandy, with your toy-shop toggery- — 
 
 Anto. Come Anthony — forgive this foolish child ! — 
 
 And tell us, were you, after all, in time 
 To see the grand procession yester eve ? 
 
 Saw you the carriages — the cardinals ? — 
 
 Antho. Not I ! — ’twas so insufferably hot, — 
 
 Like some sick superannuated snail, 
 
 Or tortoise with rheumatics pinched — I crawled ! 
 
 And scarce could drag my melting limbs along ; 
 
 But for musquitoes was your country made, — 
 
 And you’re but men — and — ( turns to Giach.) monkeys by 
 mistake. 
 
 Anto. You saw not, then, the long and proud array? 
 
 The carriages of state — the cardinals ? 
 
Scene ///.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Antho. The carriages ; — but not the cardinals : 
 
 (By far the best of it, I’m thinking — ha !) 
 
 These, having shot their rubbish, were returning, 
 
 And lumbered by — 
 
 Anto. Their rubbish ! — dare you speak 
 
 With such irreverent disrespect of men 
 So heaped with honours, and so grey with years ? — 
 Antho. Irreverent ! well ! — but cardinals are clay ; — 
 And being worthy priests, too, would admire 
 The choice expression — since they surely preach 
 To all that flesh is grass, and man is dust — 
 
 And must despise their earthly part, no doubt. 
 
 Now do not interrupt — unmannered trick ! 
 
 They lumbered by, and wanted greasing much : 
 
 Also new hanging : — nay, best give them up, 
 
 Perchance for firing — that’s, the carriages ! 
 
 They trundled past with all their gilded show, 
 
 With all their ponderous pomp and solemn state, 
 
 Since troth they creaked and rumbled awfully — 
 
 While their black steeds, fat, fat as butter all, 
 
 Reminded me a leetle of our breed 
 Of huge dray-horses \~had the cardinals 
 Indeed been in the coaches these had looked 
 For all the world like Meux and Co.’s turns out — 
 
 Since they’re stout portly gerft'iemen — I heard, 
 
 And the round burly barrels filled with beer 
 Might claim the honour well to represent ! 
 
 Anto. Hast to our glorious Colosseum yet 
 Ere turned thy steps — that wonder of our Rome ? — 
 
 If not, thou must some day, despite the heat, 
 
 Permit me to accompany thee there ! — 
 
 Antho. I have been to your Colosseum, troth ! — 
 
 An tvvere called Cauliflower ’twere nigher truth ! 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 EVA. 
 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Such a great round plum-pudding-looking place : 
 
 Save it hath no plums in’t — nor nought so good ! 
 
 Anto. Pshaw 1 — Surely you must now one point concede, 
 In England, you can boast not such a ruin ! 
 
 Antho. In England! — No ! — No ! — take your oath of that ! 
 And fear not you will be forsworn ! — you’re right! — 
 
 In England no such ruins can we boast ; 
 
 For rest assured, we should be most ashamed 
 To leave such littering rubbish straggling there — 
 
 A huge great heap of half-cemented stones ; — 
 
 Gigantic nuisance ! — -blocking up the path, 
 
 And quite an eye-sore in the prospect too ! — 
 
 In England , long ago, be very sure, 
 
 ’Twould have been knocked to pieces — cleared away, 
 
 And carted off — with all the opened ground, 
 
 To let for building-leases — long — long since ! 
 
 We are an orderly, decent people — we ! 
 
 We are a notable nation! — with some taste. — 
 
 For yours ! — but this I do not doubt — ’tis not 
 So much your fault as your misfortune here ; 
 
 You cannot well atford the expense ’twould be, 
 
 Removing all your gimcrack old remains — 
 
 Making a decent, habitable place 
 
 Of this rag-fair of odds and ends — this Rome ! 
 
 In England ! — why by this time you should see, 
 
 I’ the place of that old tottering skeleton, 
 
 That mummy of a mountain of piled stones ; 
 
 That heap of useless lumber, — half decayed ; 
 
 That mouldering carcase of a Colly-see-um, 
 
 Some sweet, straight, little comfortable rows 
 Of snug, nice houses, speedily run up, 
 
 With lath and plaster — neatly white-washed o’er, 
 
 With Lilliputian gardens, well laid out — 
 
Scene III. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 51 
 
 With box and baize — that is — I mean with grass ; — 
 
 By courtesy so called, though truth to say, 
 
 More like a remnant ’tis of well worn baize ! — 
 Nebuchadnezzar would have starved there, sure ! — 
 
 And on one side a Cupid and a rock, 
 
 On ’tother — a proportionate bower to match — 
 
 And all as spruce and pleasant, clean and neat, 
 
 As bricks and mortar, paint and wood can make it. 
 
 Anto. {laughs.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Giac. [laughs.) Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Antho. What makes ye laugh ? — - 
 
 I do assure you I am serious quite — 
 
 For we shrewd Englishers like all reforms, 
 
 And know too how to make them — none so well. 
 
 (To Giach.J Young Dunderhead — give o’er! would I could 
 send 
 
 The upholsterer to your upper stories there, ( points to his 
 head,) 
 
 Which want complete new furnishing, I doubt! — 
 
 But Tony O ! now, I will confess — of old 
 
 Your countrymen, to judge them by their dwellings, 
 
 Must have been proper men of portly size, 
 
 That house of theirs seemed built for Gog and Magog ! — 
 Who have we here ? 
 
 Enter two Mendicant Friars, with small boxes for charity in 
 
 their hands. 
 
 What want these shaveling monks ? 
 Anto. They ask your charity — for they collect 
 Alms for the poor — gratuitously given. 
 
 We have no poor-law unions here in Rome ! 
 
 Antho. Heaven bless your pope and cardinals for that ! 
 There you may boast — there, there you’re happy ! — yes, 
 
 E 2 
 
5*2 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Your beggars may be poor — but proud — since free ! — 
 
 But poverty and prison too — think ! — both ! 
 
 One is enough of suffering, and too much — 
 
 Anto. Alas ! our poor are heavy sufferers oft, — 
 
 And like to starve e’en in the public streets ! — 
 
 Antho. Starve ! — Starve! — but you know not the scantiest 
 fare 
 
 On which our pauper-poor are kept alive ; 
 
 Enough to feed their hunger , not themselves ! — 
 
 And, oh ! the famine of the feelings ! torn, 
 
 In age and in decrepitude, from all 
 Whom they would live with to the last. 
 
 Anto. But yet 
 
 The houseless poor of Rome by hundreds die. — 
 
 I have seen families of skeletons ! — 
 
 Antho. ( interrupting.) Then let them die — so they may 
 die together ! 
 
 First Monk. Ah! Eccelenza ! — 
 
 Antho. Stop his gibberish — pray ! — 
 
 Second Monk. Oh ! per i poveri ! 
 
 Antho. Old psalm-singing shark ! 
 
 The poor, quoth he ! — why deuce a bit — I guess — 
 
 Will they e’er see the colour of my coin, 
 
 That is, if I entrust it to their care. — 
 
 No! no ! most worthy friars! — ’tis vain ! ’tis vain ! 
 
 Commit no trespass here on button park ! — ( Laying his hand 
 
 on his pocket.) 
 
 You look so plump — my partridges! — I doubt — 
 
 I doubt — the money all melts down your throats ! — 
 
 Ye are indeed no pale anatomies — 
 
 Ye scarce can move for superincumbent flesh! 
 
 Your larder looks out from your pursed-up eyes, 
 
 That peer o’er two thick walls of solid fat ! — 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 53 
 
 Flesh, fowl, and fish — but of the latter least ! 
 
 Or I most hugely am mistaken. — No ! — 
 
 A good half-handful I bestowed this morning, 
 
 On a poor beggar woman’s seven starved brats. — 
 
 First Monk. Ah! Carita ! 
 
 Antho. What ! carry it her ! — My friend ! 
 
 Nay ! not so fast — you are too obliging ! — now, 
 
 With your good leave, I’d rather do it myself ! 
 
 Though much beholden to your reverence, Sir. 
 
 Second Monk. Oh ! — Benedicite ! 
 
 Antho. What means the man ? 
 
 Translate for me, good St. Antonio ! — pray ! 
 
 Anto. Why ! — ’tis a blessing on thee ! — 
 
 Antho. Is it so ? 
 
 I’ll trouble you — my very worthy Sir, 
 
 Not to give me your blessing ! — I mean, sell it — 
 
 (It costs too much ; they never give it gratis ! — ) 
 
 (To Antonio .) Now, in the twinkling of a bed-post, mark !-— 
 How I will send these two impostors hence. — 
 
 This porpoise with a string of beads on’s neck — 
 
 And that fat feather-bed in spectacles ! 
 
 [To Monks.) You speak a little English — friends ! — I think ? — 
 First Monk. A vary little of the tong, signor, 
 
 But comprehend it when ’tis plainly spoke. 
 
 Antho. I’ll speak it plain enow ! — I thought as much — » 
 The cunning varlets ! They have learnt our tongue 
 That they may cheat us, and delude us thus. — 
 
 Poor generous, innocent, munificent — 
 
 Soft-hearted, charitable Englishmen ! 
 
 I have a proposition now to make, 
 
 Nay — two — the first, good monks ! — but stay awhile. 
 
 You understand me — that I do decline 
 To make your reverences my almoners ! 
 
54 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [ Act II 
 
 I like to give what I do give myself, 
 
 And not by proxy ! — For yourselves, of course, 
 
 You nothing ask, nor need ; — you’re well to do 
 In this wild world, and want for nothing, — eh ? 
 
 And certain, have no cause for saving , since 
 Through shaving , you’ve no hair apparent left. 
 
 Excuse this joke, ha ! ha ! You cannot take it ! 
 
 Well! to proceed! Pray honour me to-night 
 By staying supper with me, — 
 
 Both the Monks together Si ! Si ! Si ! 
 
 Antho. See ! See !— Nay just hear first — (the hungry 
 hounds!) — 
 
 This happens to be Friday. — Now I know 
 You keep to-day most strict and solemn fast! — 
 
 I would not lead you, for the world, astray ! 
 
 And for your supper will with care provide, — 
 
 Just half a herring— half a one a-piece ! 
 
 (Monks start back.) 
 
 Too much, you think ! — perhaps indeed it may ! — 
 
 Now I bethink me ; — w T ell, a quarter ! say ! 
 
 Lest you infringe your order’s rules severe : 
 
 I would not prove your tempter ! — heaven forfend ! 
 
 And for the sake of your two precious souls, 
 
 I will myself the other half devour ! — 
 
 A quarter of a herring each ! — ’twere best. 
 
 For my good share a separate board prepared, 
 
 May smoke with soup, and meat, stew, roast, and boiled ; 
 Choice maccaroni — vermicelli too — 
 
 And other savoury and well-seasoned fare ! 
 
 Nay ! — stop ! — what going ? — ’tis near supper-time !— 
 
 Come back ! — you reverend worthies ! — pray return ; — 
 
 You can conclude your charitable walk 
 By pensive moonlight !—D’ye remember not-— 
 
 
Scene ///.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 55 
 
 Two propositions I’m prepared to make 
 The second I feel sure you both will hail 
 With joy unfeigned, (Monks come forward ,) but I must first 
 unfold 
 
 Unto your sympathizing souls, a thing 
 Which doubly will delight you. I do feel 
 Strange visitings within me — conscience-qualms ; 
 
 A leaning to your creed in short I own 
 Am half a convert now — and would become, 
 
 With your good help, a whole one. 
 
 First Monk. Well ! my son ! 
 
 Antho. I have heard much of scourgings, stripes, and 
 blows — 
 
 And self-inflicted penances for sin 
 
 Fain would I see, with mine own eyes, such acts 
 
 Of piety performed ! Behold my friends, 
 
 [Produces two thick old whips,) 
 A scourge a-piece. When you have swallowed down 
 Your bones of fish — for little else you’ll find ! — 
 
 You may begin your flagellations here ; 
 
 Feed on them with what relish best you may, 
 
 ’Twill aid digestion — wholesome labour, sure ! 
 
 And lay on till the morning — if you will ! 
 
 I will assist you when you’re fagged — and flag, — 
 
 So show me how you mortify the flesh ! — 
 
 Come ! 
 
 Monks. Buona Sera ! 
 
 Antho. Bony share, ah ! — Yes, 
 
 It was a bony share I proffered you! — 
 
 And — (Monks go) no use preaching more to empty benches ! 
 And [turns to Giach.) brains still emptier ! Oh ! — those fat 
 old thieves ! — 
 
 Pickpockets ! swindlers ! — but / served them out ! — 
 
56 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 They’ll come no more to me — or if they do, 
 
 No more self-thrashings will I thus propose, 
 
 But with my own good hand administer ! 
 
 Now, Tony O ! — and you Jacky ! — Come with me ! — 
 
 ’Tis supper-time indeed, ( looks at watch,) seven seconds 
 past ! 
 
 Those whining rascals have been cause that we 
 Shall lose seven seconds and one half of supper ! 
 
 [Exeunt all. 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
57 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 SCENE I. — An Apartment at the Countess di Castellana - 
 rioCs Palace. Morning. 
 
 COUNTESS DI CASTELLANAR1A and EVA. 
 
 Gia. And wilder still hath he appeared of late ? — 
 
 Eva. Alas ! I deem so, — day by day, methinks 
 More fiercely troubled grow his looks and words ! 
 
 His words ! — too fearful oft to dwell upon ! — 
 
 The Horror, that is heavy at his heart — 
 
 Will have its way. — 
 
 Gia. [starting.) How ! hath he told thee all ? — 
 
 Eva. What toldme ? — oh, no ! — nothing ! — save by sighs ! — 
 Great heavens ! hath he told thee ? — thou’rt pale and 
 changed ! 
 
 Gia. ’Tis but the heat ! — nay — pity’s pang for thee ! — 
 That wrings my very heart ! — [Aside.) Now must I strive 
 To urge her to that end must be accomplished ! — 
 
 [aloud.) I see but one hope left, and that is — 
 
 Eva. [eagerly.) What? 
 
 Gia. For thee to penetrate his bosom’s depth — 
 
 Possess thyself of whatsoe’er may be 
 
 The armed monster-image of his morbid thought, 
 
 For be thou sure some wild distempered dream 
 Lies at the bottom of this sea of strife. 
 
 First, thou this hideous phantasy must sound 
 
58 
 
 EVA. 
 
 {Act III. 
 
 Ere thou canst soothe him. — Trust me ! — there is a hope. 
 
 If this can be achieved ! A much loved friend 
 Of mine, at Venice — long a sufferer thus — 
 
 Even by these means, was gradually restored — 
 
 Without professional assistance quite. 
 
 Whene’er he opens unto thee his soul, 
 
 Soothe him, and seek to shape thy tone by his ; 
 Administering such comforts and such balm 
 As thou mayst best devise. — Hast thou observed 
 That aught, or any one, especially 
 It ouses his fevered fancy’s fury ? 
 
 Eva. Yes ! 
 
 ’Tis since young Bellafiore hath been here, 
 
 There hath been increase of his malady — 
 
 Constant and swift progression — rapid growth 
 Of each most dreadful symptom ! — 
 
 Gia. Ha ! — indeed ! — 
 
 And do they ofttimes meet ? — (aside,) — my jealous heart ! 
 Silenced in suffocating stillness lie ! 
 
 Doth Guido much frequent your princely home ? 
 
 Eva. Nay, seldom is he absent ! — 
 
 Gia. So ! — What cause ? 
 
 Eva. Hast thou not guessed, nor heard — sweet Flora’s 
 eyes 
 
 Shine the bright load-stars that attract him there : 
 
 He is devoted to her gentle charms ! — 
 
 Gia. Distraction ! — that — that is, — I mean to say — 
 Distraction through all stages still requires 
 The kindliest care and tenderest watchfulness. 
 
 Follow my counsel to the letter, now, 
 
 And then report to me how thou hast sped. 
 
 I do rejoice to hear your cousin hath 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 59 
 
 Stolen the proud, fiery heart of Bellafiore ! — 
 
 ’Twill be a brave alliance for her — troth ! 
 
 Through his lamented sister’s mournful death 
 Is he sole heir to vast possessions, left 
 By a most wealthy mother to the daughter; 
 
 Or rather by the grandsire, who bequeathed 
 His treasure to his daughter’s daughter — born 
 In time to be the idol of his age, 
 
 And failing her , to any after issue. 
 
 Thus Guido hath enormous mines of wealth ! — 
 
 Alas ! thou heed’st me scarce ; thy wandering thought 
 Is hovering o’er Montalba’s suffering head ! — 
 
 Be mindful, I implore thee ! — act thy part 
 With firmness and decision — ’twill succeed ! 
 
 Eva. Rest thou assured I will ! — I now r must bend 
 My sorrowing steps to my unhappiest home, 
 
 Yet something soothed by that thou hast held out, 
 
 Of reassurance to my sinking heart ! 
 
 Farewell my kind Giacinta ! 
 
 Gia. Sweet! — farewell! — 
 
 [Exit Eva. 
 
 Detested worm ! but I will crush thee yet ! 
 
 And feast upon thy writhings and thy pangs ! 
 
 Doubly I hate for this vile news thou’st brought ! — 
 
 Torture and anguish ! — Have I lost him ? — No ! 
 
 I will not lose him. — She hath loveliness — 
 
 And there is all ! — that sums her wealth at once! — 
 
 Have I no loveliness ? — and add to that, 
 
 A soul of fire — a heart like Passion’s Sun, 
 
 A-blaze with gorgeous treasures of delight ! — 
 
 Then have I aids and adjuncts — golden keys 
 To the heart’s coffered core — ambition I — pride ! 
 
GO 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III . 
 
 Excitement ! — patriotism ! — Yet — oh ! — yet 
 I will be conqueror in these lists of love ! 
 
 But would to heaven Montalba’s dark affair 
 Were to the issue brought ! — till then I stand 
 As on the brink of an abhorred abyss — 
 
 And all athirst for vengeance, which my lip, 
 
 Hot as the vampire’s to the dregs would drain ! — 
 
 Aye ! with their life-blood crimsoning in the draught ! — 
 Montalba ! — Ha ! — hadst thou but wedded me , 
 
 Stead of that pale-faced puppet yonder — then 
 That sharp remorse which cuts with trenchant edge, 
 Through thy pierced soul, were swallowed up, — were merged 
 In thousand mightiest interests! — not an hour 
 Should have gone o’er thy head, without its freight 
 Of stirring keen excitements ! — So shouldest thou 
 Have lost Thyself, and Memory, and Remorse, 
 
 And lived one hurrying life of restlessness ! — 
 
 Whirled in one vortex of o’erwhelming strife ! — 
 
 I had built up between thee and the Deed 
 
 That shakes thy soul to think on, dazzling walls ; — 
 
 That with their splendour and their loftiness, 
 
 Had shut the fearful shadowy spectre out ; — 
 
 My hated rival’s self is my revenge ; 
 
 She leaves him to the tyranny of his thought! — 
 
 To that dread pow’r — that fiend of fiends — ourselves ! — 
 
 He should be roused ! — fired ! — wildly borne along 
 Adown the flashing rapids of excitement. 
 
 She lets him stagnate in reflection’s lake, 
 
 Which glass one image, and one colouring wear. 
 
 Enter Giulio. 
 
 Giu. Giacinta ! — art prepared to meet thy friends ? — 
 
 Gia. Entirely! let them be admitted straight — 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KVA. 
 
 61 
 
 And stay, — mark ! Giulio, I have late received 
 This fresh provision of stout amis! — behold! 
 
 ( Opens a large cabinet.) 
 ’Tis a fair store, besides what are already 
 Distributed without reserve, I’m told, 
 
 Among the heads and leaders in the — plot — 
 
 No, no — the imperial and heaven-sanctioned war ! 
 
 Didst say they were at hand ? 
 
 Giu. They wait thy will. 
 
 Gia. Conduct them instantly, I pray thee, here. 
 
 {Exit Giulio. 
 
 Oh ! Guido ! Guido ! — shall I see thee now ? 
 
 Courage, my heart ! and cope with this strong joy ! 
 
 Enter Giulio with De Tours, Guido, and Conspirators. 
 
 Gia. ( to De Tours.) I trust thou hast acquaintance made 
 with these 
 
 Right gallant champions in our lofty cause. 
 
 De Tours. Nay, madam, I have had acquaintance, late, 
 To make with things not such good company, 
 
 But of necessity that must be seen — 
 
 Your Romish ruins, vast and w r ondrous ! Led 
 By Curiosity and Cicerones, 
 
 I have explored the entire old city — faith ! 
 
 In two hours and a half— thank, heaven, ’tis done, 
 
 A wearying task — but one must see those things ! — 
 
 Each several town I reached, in my late travel, 
 
 Exclaimed I to my courier, fervently, 
 
 “ Pietro ! I trust there’s nought here to be seen ; — 
 
 Museums, churches, pictures, ruins, nor galleries, 
 
 Shrines, prisons, palaces, nor catacombs 
 But for my sins had seldom such good luck. 
 
 A traveller’s trade is most fatiguing ! 
 
 Giu. 
 
 Well ! — 
 
62 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III . 
 
 We must to business. — Countess! hast thou gained 
 Due information late from Lombardy ? 
 
 Gia. Most satisfactory ! — E’en like wild-fire, there, 
 
 The electric spirit ’s kindlingly aroused ! — 
 
 Swiftly and suddenly — the storm-wind’s speed ! — 
 
 The blow should scarce be long deferred, I deem, 
 
 But taken at the tide — the popular zeal, — 
 
 Lest that the generous ardour which inspires, 
 
 Should suffer chill abatement. Now ! — strike now !— 
 
 And we shall chain success ! 
 
 Guido. ( aside.) Oh ! queen-like voice ! — - 
 
 Its silvery championship might pierce proud way 
 Through banded legions — and all-conquering win 
 The battle with one word! (To Gia.) Thou, lady! thou, 
 That like creation’s empress, stand’st girt round 
 With all the appanage that fits ambition, 
 
 As all the ambrosial attributes of beauty — 
 
 Dost like a radiant prophetess foretell, 
 
 And with thy conquering smile ensure success ! 
 
 Giu. ( aside.) By Heaven ! he loves her ! madness and 
 despair ! 
 
 Gia. My noble cousin,— ’tis enough to nerve 
 A poor weak woman, to behold around her 
 Such gallant sons of glorious chivalry, 
 
 Panting to give their country all she needs 
 To make her yet the loftiest — Liberty ! 
 
 Guido. Thyself art all a Heavenly Chivalry ! — 
 
 Now I conceive how white-robed angels warred ! — 
 
 Gia. Hear me but welcome thee with heart and soul, 
 
 To our resolved band ! — for thou hast all 
 That most is needed in so high a quarrel ! — 
 
 A soul to do and dare — and to defy 
 A world in arms, for thy wronged country’s sake — 
 
 Devotion to that country — true and leal — 
 
 Aspirings lofty as thy plumy crest, 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 fi3 
 
 Bright with red sunshine of the thousand wars, 
 
 Where thy brave lion -fathers fought and bled, 
 
 And honour stainless as those hundred ’scutcheons, 
 
 Whose blazonries adorn thy princely house. 
 
 Courage, that eagle-plumed, ne’er checked its flight, 
 
 Genius to prompt — and judgment to arrange — 
 
 And power to execute the noblest ends ! 
 
 Be thou the God-given star to lead our war. 
 
 Thy name — thy fame’s a very victory-cry ! 
 
 Giu. ( aside.) Ye gods ! she loves him ! — let me hate 
 them, both ! 
 
 Guido. Nay ! madam ! — my poor merits you o’errate — 
 
 ( aside.) ’Tis too like flattery this, and doth not please me : 
 It looks like some design — some studied wile. 
 
 Giu. Are we met here to waste the precious time 
 In petty compliments ? — the day ! — the day — 
 
 The hour — the place — the signal — all’s prepared. 
 
 A simultaneous rising were the best, 
 
 In different quarters. — Aye ! it must be so ! 
 
 Not in one point concentrated can we 
 Assemble our brave forces ; but the when, 
 
 The how, the whereabouts, must we discuss, 
 
 And speedily press on. — Shun, shun delay !— 
 
 First Conspirator. And we, young nobles of this glori- 
 ous land, 
 
 Like champing coursers, scarce can bear the bit; 
 
 But be the word once spoken, and we spring, 
 
 With one proud bound of rapture, to the field, 
 
 To stamp the foot on crushed oppression’s neck ! 
 
 De Tours. Be careful that you do not break your own 
 In such a headlong leap — such things have chanced. 
 
 Second Consp. Swell out the thundering triumph of the 
 acclaim ! 
 
64 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Let the loud battle-cry go echoing on ! 
 
 Let the earth heave victory-rocking round our steps, 
 
 Till every nation answers ours, and starts 
 To giant-stature up, aye! — sword in hand, 
 
 The armed nations shall start up, and tow’ring stand, 
 
 And then — (pauses.) 
 
 De Tours. What then ? then all sit down again. 
 
 Second Consp. Pshaw! trifling! — ( Turns to Guido.) 
 Seems this hero of young France 
 Scarce fired, methinks, with that high energy — 
 
 Those keen aspirings that should prompt and steel 
 In such an undertaking as our own ! 
 
 Guido. Thou hast given utterance to my brooding 
 thought ! 
 
 First Consp. I will not stay to hear him desecrate 
 Our theme of themes with his irreverent tongue ! 
 
 [Exit First Consp. 
 Third Consp. Now, now let the everlasting deed be done! — 
 Oh ! for one swift hour of the earthquake’s might — 
 
 One moment of the storm and thunderbolt ! 
 
 Come to the true, bright vineyard ! — war’s red stage — 
 
 Come forth ! ye vintagers ! — in rushing throngs — 
 
 Come, ye grape -gatherers — ho ! the grapes are ripe. 
 
 De Tours, (shrugging his shoulders.) I hope and trust 
 we shall not find them sour ! 
 
 Nothing would less surprise me , I confess. 
 
 Also, Heaven grant, the wine of this fine vintage 
 May not unsettle seriously our heads — (feels his own.) 
 
 Mine feels a thought unsteady on my shoulders !— 
 
 A bosom-friend of mine, but the other day, 
 
 At Paris, bent on some refined amusement, 
 
 Met with an awkward accident. 
 
 Guido. And what ? 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 65 
 
 What happened to thy friend ? 
 
 De Tours. The guillotine ! 
 
 That’s all ! — a trifle — but it spoilt his beauty, 
 
 Disturbed his morning’s rest seven hours too soon ; 
 
 (On a cold, raw spring-morning scarcely pleasant !) 
 Disordered much his dress, and marred his mirth ! — 
 
 This same good guillotine’s a sharp-set friend. 
 
 Like you your friends to cut you ? — I do not ! 
 
 Guido ( to Gra.) He is a spy ! He mocks our schemes, 
 by heaven ! 
 
 He hath not at his heart our righteous cause. 
 
 Gia. ’Tis but his reckless manner. — This I know, 
 
 He is the bravest, noblest, and most zealous — 
 
 The war-soul of young France is in his breast. 
 
 These sallies are but smoke-wreaths — born of Fire ! — - 
 (To Guido.) ’Twere best to shorten this our conference- 
 now ! 
 
 I tremble, lest these headlong spirits chafe, 
 
 Angered to meet so hair-brained an ally ! — 
 
 Already some, I mark, have disappeared ! — 
 
 (To the rest.) My lords, the proud conclusion yet shall 
 come, 
 
 The noble consummation of our hopes ! 
 
 But for short period must be yet deferred. 
 
 Advices we expect from distant parts, 
 
 And must yet pause till messengers return, 
 
 Whom we’ve despatched to our wide-scattered bands. — 
 
 Let the great act be instantaneous then ! — 
 
 Monies and arms in vast profusion poured 
 Are secreted i’ the hidden mountain-dens 
 Of our brave brigands, — and the brigands all 
 Well organized, and placed in certain posts, 
 
 With understanding how they are to act, 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act HI- 
 
 And how unite themselves together then, 
 
 And to our party. 
 
 Guido. Lady ! heard I right ? 
 
 Brigands ! saidst thou ? Is’t possible— is’t true ? 
 
 Gia. Aye ! dost despise such tools ? Thou rt wrong, my 
 prince ! 
 
 Scorn’st thou the sword— for that its shining metal 
 Was dug of old from disembowelled earth ? — 
 
 Thou must stoop low to find the staunchest help. 
 
 ’Tis this base mould that gives our iron mail !— 
 
 De Tours. Also a charming chiming toy — called gold 
 Which moves the world — and Archimedes’ boast 
 Turns into simple truth. 
 
 Fourth Consp. I grieve to hear, 
 
 Fair countess ! we must yet curb in our souls, 
 
 Impatient for their burst from hated bonds. 
 
 But we obey.— The thrice-blessed day will come !— 
 
 And earth shall see that noblest spectacle 
 A nation struggling for her proudest rights! 
 
 In sooth, earth’s mightiest spectacle !— 
 
 De Tours. Most true !— 
 
 That is the general aspect of the strife ! 
 
 Collectively— not individually— 
 
 For ugly accidents too oft occur, 
 
 That rather spoil the beauty of the face, 
 
 Unsuited to a delicate complexion 
 But soldiers deal in Generalities ! 
 
 (And sometimes, slightly too, confuse their terms ) 
 
 A body— that’s ten thousand bodies — squeezed 
 In some small compass— a large live machine 
 Where the individual legs and arms and heads 
 Go but to make the monster of the many ! 
 
 Battle-array — what is’t? — No toilette, made 
 With exquisite and graceful taste : no, no, — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 67 
 
 ’Tis but the order of the Army ! — but 
 
 The appearance of the Million — not o’ the one, 
 
 The studied, strict costume — ’tis but the troops 
 In uniform precision. By the way — 
 
 Talking of uniforms — pray what is ours ? 
 
 What sort of tailors have you here in Rome ? 
 
 I vote the colour should be blue, dark-blue, 
 
 The livery of cerulean Italy ! 
 
 What is the banner ? 
 
 First Consp. Say the tricolor ! 
 
 Freedom’s own chosen rainbow for long years. 
 
 De Tours. Not so ! ’tis rather out of fashion now, 
 
 And casts an unbecoming shade around. 
 
 I saw a handsome standard-bearer once 
 Beneath its inauspicious glare appear, 
 
 Indeed , all colours of the rainbow ! — Say 
 Crimson ! — ’twere better much ! 
 
 Guido .(aside.) Insufferable! 
 
 What frontless impudence ! — what frivolous mirth. 
 
 Giu. ’Twere better, lest some slight suspicions were, 
 Haply, by your protracted stay aroused 
 With the fair countess, here to separate now, 
 
 Even without more delay ! If ye approve, 
 
 My noble friends ! our watchword’s still, “ Rienzi !” 
 
 De Tours. I think you’re right : we’ve been too long 
 assembled. 
 
 ’Twere dangerous — ( aside ) — and grows rather tedious too. 
 Farewell! most lovely amazonian queen ! — 
 
 Heed not my merriment — thou’lt praise my mettle, 
 
 When France — no ! Italy and glory call, 
 
 And all the young and brave go forth in joy. 
 
 [. Exeunt De Tours, Consp. 
 
68 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III . 
 
 Giu. (aside to Countess.) Giacinta ! leave us. I have 
 much to say 
 
 To this youug Bellafiore — much to teach. 
 
 Scarce yet initiated, he requires 
 Counsel and explanation, and likes not 
 To seem in your eyes but a raw recruit. 
 
 Gia. I go.— I fear this wild de Tours hath harmed 
 Our solemn cause already ! — think’st thou so ? 
 
 Giu. I own I tremble — but of this anon. 
 
 [Exit Giacinta. 
 
 Giulio goes to the Cabinet of Arms and brings tivo swords. 
 
 Q-jxj. Prince Guido, thou hast done me mortal wrong 
 Thus give me reparation ! — choose thy sword ! 
 
 Guido. How done thee wrong? — first let me know the 
 cause ! 
 
 Giu. Thou hast supplanted me with her I love, 
 
 The beauteous countess !— Not a word— enough— 
 
 Defend thyself, or thou’rt a rank, base coward. 
 
 They fight. Giacinta rushes in and flings herself between 
 
 them. 
 
 Gia. What noise !— hold, hold— why ? Giulio ! Guido, 
 hear ! 
 
 Hold— hold, I say !— what mad, wild transport ’s this ? 
 
 Giu. I answer as I answered thee, Giacinta 
 Ask thine own heart, and let that give reply. 
 
 Gia. Put up— put up ! for shame, ye recreant knights ! 
 The red-right arms your suffering country needs 
 Should ye thus raise against each other ? — shame 
 Shall light, rude brawls disgrace, and mar, and stain 
 The dignity of that we have to do ? — 
 
 Put up, I say, till that tremendous hour, 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 69 
 
 Fraught with the destinies of thousands, then 
 
 Leap forth those swords, like lightnings, from their sheaths : — * 
 
 Put up ! — put up ! — I charge ye fight no more, 
 
 Or I will send, demanding a strict guard, 
 
 This instant to the authorities and powers, — 
 
 Then have ye bound in sureties to keep peace. 
 
 Ten thousand shames on both !— quick ! — quick ! put up ! 
 
 If ye are leal staunch loyal knights. — But swear, 
 
 For my sake swear, and sacred guard your oath, 
 
 You will not draw again : — be quick ! — sw T ear, swear ! — 
 
 Giu. ( sullenly.) I swear, since I have sw orn before to 
 . make 
 
 Thine every word my law. 
 
 Guido. And I too swear: — 
 
 I have no quarrel with Count Giulio ! — none ! — 
 
 Gia. ’Tis well — once more I leave you, and do trust 
 Implicitly to your joint honour. ( significantly ) Peace ! 
 
 [ Exit Giacinta. 
 
 Giu. She hath thus sheathed our swords — but ’tis in 
 vain — 
 
 We must not draw again — but we may die ! 
 
 Let the survivor claim his radiant prize — 
 
 Lo ! thus let lots decide the question, ha ! — 
 
 Draw for the death-lot — ’tis the longest — let 
 
 Whichever of us twain draws that one die ! 
 
 ( He prepares lots.) 
 
 Guido. Hold! Thou art mistaken — hast misunderstood. 
 
 I do not love the countess — and yet more, 
 
 I do adore another, and ere long 
 
 Shall hail that other, as I hope, my bride ! 
 
 Giu. Indeed ! Then give me thus to grasp thy hand : 
 Wish me success — as I wish thee — the same. 
 
 Guido. I do most truly !— prosper in thy suit— 
 
70 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 And woo and win and wear — thy gem of worth. 
 
 I honour and admire the proud Giacinta — 
 
 But for my heart — another reigneth there ! 
 
 [Exeunt together. 
 
 Scene II. — An Apartment at the Palazzo Ceria , (Count 
 Montalba’s.) 
 
 FLORA AND PRINCE GUIDO. 
 
 Flora. What ails thee, Guido ? — thou’rt abstracted — 
 quite — 
 
 Extremely silent — and a little — dull ! — 
 
 Why ! yesterday ’twas different all indeed — 
 
 Such flights of wild, tempestuous eloquence ! — 
 
 Such deep enthusiastic bursts of zeal ! — 
 
 Hast thou not seen thine inspiration’s source 
 And theme, the bright Giacinta, this fair mom ? 
 
 Guido. I have — and am but now returned from her. 
 Flora. Indeed ! you pass great portion of your time 
 Lackeying the haughty heels of that proud countess. 
 
 Guido. Doth it displease thee that I go there oft ? 
 
 Flora. Oh ! not at all ! — why should it? — not the least! — 
 ( Aside.) Why doth he ask ? — to make me say the — untruth ? 
 Better he’d tacitly imagined it ! 
 
 Guido. I much admire the countess — she is all 
 That poets paint when they pourtray a heroine. 
 
 Flora. Yes ! but we want not that in actual life. 
 Metkinks ’twere better she were soft and meek, 
 
 Domestic, — quiet, — she is far from that. 
 
 What is her history ? — tell it me, I pray ; 
 
 I know thou lik’st on that fair theme to dwell ! 
 
 Guido. I do admire her — thus much I confess — 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 71 
 
 Magnificently beautiful she is, 
 
 And most imperially inspired of mien ! 
 
 And wouldst thou learn her hapless history ? 
 
 She married early — an untimely death 
 Befel her youthful husband and a sad ! 
 
 I will relate it. — ’Twas but some few months 
 After their marriage, at the carnival 
 At Naples — riding ’mid the crowding masks, 
 
 Through the Toledo-street, his horse took fright, 
 
 Became ungovernable — reared and plunged, 
 
 And threw its rider — pitching on his head, 
 
 He was insensible when taken up, 
 
 And after some few hours he breathed his last ! 
 
 His widow then acquired enormous w r ealth 
 In Lombardy and here at Rome — herself 
 Had large possessions of her own, besides, 
 
 In Tuscany : — her unprotected state 
 Hath given her character, perchance, a shade 
 Of too much haughty independence, wdiile 
 Her means thus vast 
 
 Flora, ( interrupting him.) Dainty widow r ! faith ! — 
 But, Guido ! art thou evermore to be 
 The follower of Giacinta ? — dost thou mean 
 Thus frequently thy devoirs there to pay — 
 
 And — and — to keep me ever on the thorns 
 And tenter-hooks of — friendly fears for thee ? — 
 
 Thou wilt repent this sudden freak, be sure ! 
 
 But answer — wilt thou do thus ever ? 
 
 Guido. No ! 
 
 Flora. Wilt thou not haunt her flaunting footsteps ? 
 
 Guido. No ! 
 
 Flora. And — say — dost thou not love Giacinta ? — 
 
 Guido. No ! 
 
72 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III . 
 
 Flora, Nor with especial favour still regard ? — 
 
 Guido. Why — no ! no ! no ! — thou hast the reply direct ! 
 My sweet cross-questioner ! — thy keen queries seem 
 Put in a lawyer-like and business style : 
 
 Wilt thou not go — nor pass— nor visit there ? — 
 
 Nor love — regard — nor favour that fair dame ? — 
 
 The inquisitorial glance and tongue can I 
 
 With most clear conscience thus unblenching meet ! 
 
 Now hear me, loveliest Flora ! — I will own 
 The dazzling witcheries of her queen-like charms 
 Did for brief while enchain me at her feet, 
 
 A worshipper at her triumphant wheels. 
 
 Nay ! — start not ! love was never in the case ! — 
 
 ’Twas admiration — wonder — almost awe — 
 
 Not love, although it might have mellowed grown 
 Into that bright emotion — but for tliee ! — 
 
 Thy sweet, sweet image rose between my soul 
 And the rare beauty of Giacinta — till 
 It blinded me with hope and happiness ! 
 
 Flora. And thou art true and leal and loyal still ? — 
 Guido. Still, and for ever ! — oh ! my best beloved ! — 
 
 Yet other causes aided me to break 
 
 The glittering chains that bound me at those wheels. 
 
 Flora. And what ? — 
 
 Guido. It matters not— since I am free ! — 
 
 Flora. Knows’t thou ’tis bruited strongly, throughout 
 Rome, 
 
 That fair Giacinta, with her heroine charms, 
 
 Is here the soul and centre of intrigue — 
 
 Regarded with suspicion and distrust 
 
 By the surrounding governments, and chief 
 
 By the Austrian.— I heard this averred — assured — 
 
 But yestereve — with hints that she is now 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 73 
 
 Hedged round with plotters, plots and counterplots. 
 
 This renders her society scarce safe — 
 
 She holds a court of all the wildest here 
 
 And elsewhere ! — discord’s living firebrands — youths, 
 
 Who, lacking occupations and professions — 
 
 Are suffering with a surfeit of repose — 
 
 And prompt to work some great and mighty change, 
 
 Sith any change were luxury unto them ! 
 
 Sick with satiety of idlesse thus, 
 
 ’Tis said too she would dare all things to reign, 
 
 So high her fancy soars — Italia’s queen ! 
 
 I waste my breath! — nor you nor Eva bear 
 To hear aught whispered ’gainst Giacinta’s name, 
 
 Yet from authentic sources fell these hints. 
 
 Guido. These things may be — and yet such hints receive 
 With cautious circumspection evermore. 
 
 Report’s a strange, wild babbler — trust her not. 
 
 I think the countess one whose lofty mind 
 Is fired by strong ambition — ’tis no crime ! — 
 
 She would exalt her land, and sow the seeds 
 Of fair improvement in her country still. 
 
 Thus much I think — and add to this —dear love ! — 
 
 She is a warm, most fervent friend, I feel — 
 
 Devoted — zealous — cordial — and her heart 
 Is open as the day. 
 
 Floka. These things may he ! 
 
 Guido. What ! my sweet silvery echo ! dost thou doubt 
 me ? 
 
 Nay ! — thou art prejudiced — thou art indeed ! 
 
 Enter Eva. 
 
 Eva. Guido, art thou acquainted with a youth, 
 
 By name De Tours — who comes, ere long, to bring 
 Letters of introduction from Giacinta. 
 
74 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Guido. I met him at her palace but to-day — 
 
 ( to Flora,) I have much to say to thee, my Flora ! — much ! — 
 This evening wilt vouchsafe me, at my prayer, 
 
 Long audience — dear one ! — dearest ! — say but yes ! 
 
 Flora. Well! — yes — terday thou wert engaged, methinks, 
 In playing courtier near another throne ! — 
 
 Guido. Ah ! unforgiving, cold, resentful, stern — 
 
 Flora. Enough ! — the catalogue grows lengthy — thus — 
 Of course most wearisome ! — Yes ! yes ! — thy queen 
 Will deign vouchsafe thee audience ! but once more 
 Most seriously — my Guido ! — I beseech 
 Thou wilt not be by this dark Circe led 
 From honour’s, wisdom’s, love’s fair paths astray. 
 
 Guido. Never from love's! — is that not saying all — 
 Wisdom and honour — both inclusive — eh ? — 
 
 And virtue too and glory, and yet more, 
 
 Untold — intolerable — happiness ! 
 
 This evening then — this ev’ning thou shalt hear 
 What my heart yearns, and yet much dreads to speak. 
 
 Oh tell me, tell me — that thou lov’st me still ! 
 
 Flora. These lightning- shafts of jealousy have struck 
 My heart, to reach and bare its bedded wealth, 
 
 Dear love, of bright affections and emotions ! 
 
 So earth is tom, — ere gleam her buried treasures ! 
 
 Guido. I hang on these sw r eet words, with more than joy! 
 
 Enter De Tours. 
 
 Eva. You are most welcome, Sir ! — I understand, 
 
 From the fair Countess di Castellenaria, 
 
 Your stay in Rome must of necessity 
 Be short. — It grow r s our pleasing duty still 
 To strive to make it pleasant; — but I fear, 
 
 So occupied will be your precious time, 
 
 With strict research of all the treasures here, 
 
Scene //.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 75 
 
 Of grave antiquity — you scarce may find 
 A leisure hour at Rome! 
 
 De Tours. Nay ! — Madam — nay ! 
 
 I have explored the city — made my tour — 
 
 And may assume the travelled air of those 
 Who, having run through ruins, toiled up towers — 
 
 (To swallow down the country at a gulp, 
 
 With the fresh air that they imbibe on high,) 
 
 Glanced round famed galleries !— dived down dungeons 
 drear ! — 
 
 And posted through whole provinces — asleep ! 
 
 Assume the encyclopedian stare and strut ! — 
 
 And wrap in mysticism their— ignorance ! 
 
 Flora. You must have hurried strangely — it should seem 
 Two years are scarce enough to see all Rome ! 
 
 De Tours. Two hours suffice, believe me, if you have 
 A perfect guide-book — and a cicerone, 
 
 In good condition for a swinging walk. 
 
 Flora. Dear Eva ! I entreat you not to stay ; 
 
 You have been suffering lately — had no sleep. — 
 
 M. De Tours will condescend to hold 
 Me your unworthy representative. 
 
 De Tours. I urge ! entreat ! — implore ! — am shocked — 
 o’erwhelmed ! — 
 
 For worlds w T ould not detain you ; — I beseech — 
 
 Eva. I feel small scruple — past my poor deserts 
 Thus represented — therefore, Sir, farewell ! — 
 
 [ Exit Eva. 
 
 Guido. [ aside to Flora.~\ He is conceit itself, and my aver- 
 sion! 
 
 Farewell, sweet, till this evening ! — fear me not ! — 
 
 [Exit Guido. 
 
 Flo. I need not ask, if to St. Peter s yet 
 
76 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III . 
 
 You’ve made a fitting pilgrimage ? 
 
 De Tours. Of course ! — 
 
 That is, I peeped behind that ponderous curtain — 
 
 Which hangs ungracefully at the entrance ; — glimpsed 
 The interior for an instant — I must own ( hesitating .) — 
 Flora. ( quickly J You surely vrere not disappointed 
 there ? 
 
 De Tours. Why ! not exactly ! though a little , — yes ! 
 
 It is too huge — and too colossal much ! — 
 
 Too mountainous in its magnificence ! — 
 
 Quite the Mont Blanc of architectural works ! — 
 
 This is my feeling ; — ’tis a grand mistake 
 To make an edifice of any kind, 
 
 So vast and lofty as to throw i’ the shade 
 That noblest of all nature’s objects — man ! 
 
 ’Tis mortifying sure to feel oneself 
 Dwarfed — stunted — superseded — put aside ! 
 
 A pigmy ! — all our graces lost, or made 
 Ridiculously Liliputian 1 — bah ! — 
 
 I would not for the world have past the curtain! — 
 
 I marked two youths — before they entered there 
 I had observed them — tall — well formed they seemed ; 
 Perfectly dressed, and with l’air noble too ! — 
 
 Will you believe me ? — they seemed wholly changed ! 
 
 Two little insignificant insects, lost 
 
 On that great floor — like the ocean’s paven beach ! 
 
 All their elaborate toilette quite in vain — 
 
 Dwindled and dwarfed they shrunk at once to ev’n 
 Minuteness microscopic — ’twere enough 
 To crush the most egregious vanity. 
 
 Not for the world would I have made, I swear, 
 
 So poor an exhibition of myself! 
 
 I am rejoiced I did not pass the curtain : — 
 
Scene //.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 77 
 
 And then your voice seems lost— -or gains a tone 
 Of strange sepulchral hollowness. I doubt 
 A jest would roll out to a requiem there ! 
 
 I’m thankful that I did not pass the curtain ! — 
 
 Flora, [smiling.) But i’st not good to wound one’s va- 
 nity ? 
 
 ’Tis sinful to be vain ! — 
 
 De Tours- How ! — sinful / — no ! 
 
 There you mistake! ’tis virtue to be vain ! — 
 
 All good emotions spring from vanity ! 
 
 Humility itself, for we do strive 
 And canvass for opinions in our favour, 
 
 Constitute all as judges of our looks, 
 
 Our w T ords, our works, our talents — ev'n our dress ! — 
 
 We love those who admire us — thence doth spring 
 Philanthropy and charity besides ! 
 
 And few are pious too who are not vain ! — 
 
 For the upturned eyes — the graceful attitude — 
 
 The soft expression of the countenance 
 All spring from gently prompting vanity ! 
 
 Dictatress true! — Seems conscience dumb to her! — 
 Miscreants, and misanthropes, and misers all, 
 
 Become so from a lack of vanity ; — 
 
 They study not what is becoming — pleasing ! 
 
 They hang not on opinion for their bliss ! 
 
 They spend not all to gain sweet admiration — 
 
 Oh ! men grow heaps of vice that are not vain ! 
 
 Flora. A most convincing, excellent discourse ! 
 
 [Enter Montalba.) 
 
 Allow” me to present the Count Montalba. 
 
 De Tours. [Bows.) Delighted ! — Count ! I am most proud ! 
 Mont. [Bows.) And I ! — 
 
 And hope and trust you ofttimes will consent 
 
78 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 To honour our palazzo with your presence ! 
 
 De Tours. Channed ! noble count, to cheat the laggard 
 here ! 
 
 The tortoise-paced old loiterer, Time ! — believe me ! — 
 Mont. — I s’t true you’re now upon your way to join 
 The Egyptians ’gainst their foes, the Turks ? — 
 
 De Touks. I am ! 
 
 Mont. By heav’n! I envy you ! — A noble strife, 
 
 And a sharp contest ! — Are you not on fire 
 To take the field, and flesh your virgin sword ! 
 
 De Tours. Why ! as to that, I know 7 the smell of powder ! 
 Also, another warlike whiff — of lint ! 
 
 The unodoriferous scent of which is sickening ! 
 
 As to the field ! — your glorious field of war, 
 
 ’Tis strangely like a rabbit-w r arren — heigh ? 
 
 Chuck full of dangerous awkward holes — called — graves ! 
 
 A sort of burrowing that is half — a bore ! 
 
 Howe’er that be — I love it to my soul ! 
 
 And by good old St. Dennis — ask no better 
 Than there in strife to live — in glory — fall ! 
 
 We Frenchmen — sons and scions of the sword ! 
 
 You know of old — accustomed are — to die ! 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. Count, the Marchese Della Moria waits. 
 
 Mont. Usher him hither, and without delay ! 
 
 I met him in the Piazza — but a moment — 
 
 And then he promised me this visit. — So ! 
 
 Enter Della Moria. 
 
 My best dear friend ! — ten thousand welcomes here ! 
 
 Flora ! — become acquainted with the man 
 Who beggars all my praise and more — esteem. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 79 
 
 Flora. I am most happy ! 
 
 De Tours. Let me say farewell. 
 
 I have important business, [aside.) ’Tis too much ! — 
 
 This scene of sentimental friendship — bah ! 
 
 [ Exit De Tours. 
 
 Flora. And I must seek my gentle Eva now ! 
 
 After your long estrangement from each other, 
 
 You must have much to say! — I feel assured. 
 
 [Exit Flora. 
 
 Della Moria. I grieve to see, dear friend ! how thou art 
 changed ! 
 
 I scarcely knew thee, when we met, erewhile. 
 
 Hast thou been ill ? 
 
 Mont. Oh, no ! it is this life ! 
 
 Moria. What life ? 
 
 Mont. This life of dull stagnation here ! 
 
 Torpid inaction and repose, — ’tis worse 
 For aging one than any toil or strife ! 
 
 Moria. But thou art wedded unto one, of whom 
 Report saith wonders ! — Nay ! — I know she is 
 Perfection ! — for I saw her but just now ! 
 
 Mont. Where saw her? 
 
 Moria. Walking thoughtfully along 
 
 F the statue-gallery, with Prince Bellafiore ! 
 
 Mont, [aside.) Ha ! — torture ! — torture ! — ’tis a phrenzied 
 thought ! 
 
 But I do wrong her ! — no ! — no ! — ’tis not so ! — 
 
 And so thou find’st me changed ! — I marvel not. 
 
 Oh ! this do-nothing, frigid, fatal life ! 
 
 With nought to rouse or change the o’erwearied mood ! 
 
 I gaze on Rome’s gray ruins till I wish 
 For like decay ! — or by the old river ride, 
 
 Chiding thee, Tiber, — for thy tardiness ! — 
 
80 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III 
 
 Nor Tiber only — but yet tardier Time ! — 
 
 Moria. [aside.) He is most strange ! — I understand it not 
 [To Mont.) Now for brief season we must part again ! — 
 
 I have much business on my hands, entailed 
 By lengthened absence — so farewell ! — farewell ! — 
 
 But for the present — since I purpose now 
 Long to remain at Rome — and be you sure 
 Shall much on you inflict my company ! 
 
 Mont. I will accompany your steps towards home ! 
 
 [Exeunt both. 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
81 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — Palace of the Countess di Castellanaria . 
 Enter the Countess alone. 
 
 Gia. So ! — I am mocked ! — betrayed ! — undone ! — undone! 
 But rise ! proud spirit ! — yet be I the undoer ! — 
 
 Whate’er may chance — whate’er may check — obstruct— 
 
 I will still follow fate-like — to the goal ! 
 
 I will make vengeance more sublimely dread 
 Than ever ’twas before ! and punish both, 
 
 And punish all ! — with such infernal pangs 
 As our own Dante never dreamed of. — Yes ! 
 
 Come shame ! — come crime ! — come death — doom — min’s 
 worst ! — 
 
 I will be staunch, and fixed as rocks and spheres — 
 
 Those to chastise who have defeated me ! — 
 
 Crime crowds on crime, now on my darkening path ! — 
 
 Ah ! — \he first sin is all our own ! — our own ! — 
 
 Our deed and doing ! — plotting and performing ! — 
 
 But those that follow ! — those that follow! — those 
 Are forced upon us by the unpitying fiends. 
 
 One crime is father to a catalogue ! — 
 
 I must reflect ! — My spy informs me now 
 That Guido is devoted to that girl — 
 
 That hated Flora ! — that but yestereve 
 He asked her to agree, at once, to espouse him ! 
 
 Saying, his father never would consent 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 To such alliance with an alien from 
 
 His country and religion — clime and blood ; 
 
 But that once solemnized, their nuptials should 
 Be hailed by him, whose dearest wish on earth 
 Was to see Guido with a self-chosen bride 
 United happily before his death ! — 
 
 That then all the obstacles should slighter seem, 
 
 The advantages more prominent — he thus 
 Choosing himself his bride — and finding one 
 All youth and beauty, and with heart all his ! — 
 
 Thus much — no more could he acquaint me with. 
 Shall I, indeed, be thus befooled, betrayed 
 A second time ? Montalba ! — thou accursed ! — 
 
 Didst thou not let me think myself beloved, 
 
 When coldly thou didst court thy poor Bianca ? 
 
 And when my fiery spirit had found way, 
 
 And taught thee how to cast her from thee ! — then , 
 Then — O! thou double-dyed — thou deadliest traitor — 
 Didst thou insult my love, destroy my hopes, 
 
 Outrage mine every feeling — keep aloof, 
 
 And then — and then — didst w r ed anothei' ! Wretch ! — 
 But the black reckoning-day is near at hand ! 
 
 And she too knows of this vile love of Guido’s. 
 
 She — that most loathed, abhorred, and fatal wife ! — 
 ’Tis she hath fostered and hath fanned this flame, 
 
 As she — detested scorpion ! — would contrive — 
 
 In every way — my ruin ! — Out on her ! — 
 
 Guido ! aye ! thou hast played me false, thou hast ! 
 Thou hast deserted too our deep-sworn band ! — 
 
 Sent vague excuses, shifting — paltry — cold, — 
 
 Though colourable messages. — By Heaven ! 
 
 I will not bear thy dark desertion thus — 
 
 Of me and of my heart-dear cause at once ! 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 83 
 
 Soft ! I have sent to pray an interview — 
 
 What — ho ! — within there. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Hath Prince Guido been ? 
 Serv. No ! gracious countess ! I have seen him not. 
 
 Gia. Then go ! — no, stay — I will not thus — begone. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 He cannot fail me, and he dare not — no ! 
 
 I yet shall have him in my power — I must ! — 
 
 Slow hour ! — will thy dull sands ne’er run ? — Aha ! — 
 
 I hear his step — he comes — is’t joy or — torture ? 
 
 Enter Prince Guido. 
 
 Guido. Fair countess ! I obey thee — and am here 
 But for short season ! — since affairs most urgent 
 Elsewhere require my presence. 
 
 Gia. I would fain 
 
 We understood each other thoroughly — now ! — 
 
 Art thou yet with us in this mighty plot ? 
 
 Guido. Countess ! far worthier at thy hand await 
 Their destinies chivalrous — I am not. 
 
 Gia. What ! Guido ! — when so near our triumph’s hour? 
 Wilt thou desert us — fail us at our need, 
 
 And at our noblest turn too ? — Why ! ’twere shame 
 And harsh wrong to thyself — thine own brave self — 
 
 As to thy bleeding country ! — Prince ! what cause ? 
 
 Guido. Lady ! in rash, hot-blooded suddenness 
 Did I, unponderingly and unprepared, 
 
 Enrol myself among you ! — calmer thoughts 
 Have visited my soul — it not imports 
 That I should waste thy time by their detail. 
 
 Gia. Give me one reason, ( aside ,) for thou hast but one — 
 
 a 2 
 
84 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Thy slavish love for that poor, brainless chit, 
 
 Flora Clanronald ! with her soulless charms ! 
 
 Guido. Give thee one reason ? — Hear me ! — there is one 
 Which were alone enough to establish me 
 In this my purpose — would my father bear — 
 
 He — chief of our unstained and lordliest house — 
 
 The representative of our proud race — 
 
 For ever loyal, brave and true and honoured — 
 
 His son should be a rebel ? * 
 
 Gia. This is but 
 
 The household-jargon of despotic courts, 
 
 The oiled, gilded, and vain terms of tyranny ! — 
 
 The old jugglery of Janus-faced oppression ! 
 
 Thy free, high mind should scorn it ! — Come, oh ! come 
 Where Honour — Freedom — Patriotism — call ! 
 
 And strike for millions — crouch not back for one , 
 
 Though that one be thy father. — But ’tis false ! — 
 
 ’Tis not for him thou so dost cower and crouch. 
 
 Guido. Crouch ! — Say what mean’st thou ? 
 
 Gia. (passionately.) That ’tis cowardice !— 
 
 Rank cowardice — treachery — baseness — falsehood — shame — 
 Away ! — I will not parley with thee, save 
 This moment thou wilt change thy recreant tone, 
 
 And sign this paper ! — ’tis the scroll that bears 
 Our secret protestation — sign ! — I say ! — 
 
 Guido. Thou preachest ’gainst all wrong and tyranny, 
 
 But fain would practise — is’t not so fair dame ? — 
 Unheard-of despotism — and crush the soul ! 
 
 Chained at thy chariot- wheels for ever NO ! 
 
 Gia. Then tremble — tremble — traitor ! — for thou art lost. 
 Thou mock’st me — supercilious smiler ! how ? — 
 
 Guido. Methinks ’tis thou shouldst tremble ! — when a 
 word, 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 85 
 
 A breath of mine could shake thy schemes to air, 
 
 And give thee to the Austrian dungeon’s gloom. 
 
 Gia. Do ! ’twere well worthy of thee — those were deeds 
 To gild thy family’s proud heraldry 
 With honours in august accession. — Lo ! 
 
 The craven! — the betrayer! — and the informer! — 
 
 ( Bursts into tears.) 
 
 Alas ! — ’tis madness ’ — Guido ! pardon me ! — 
 
 ’Tis mine impetuous spirit, that can ne’er 
 Or stoop to bear, or pause to think — forget — 
 
 Forgive my vehemence ! — it springs from that 
 Without which men are w r orse than savages — 
 
 Scarce fit to herd with wolves !— -the love of country ! — 
 
 And I do charge thee — in the holiest name ! — 
 
 Though thou wilt aid not — ne’er betray our cause ! — 
 
 Guido. I do forgive thee — honouring more and more 
 Thy noble nature and high-hearted zeal ! — 
 
 But bid thee to beware ! — I fear thou stand’st 
 O’er a dread precipice. Consider well ! 
 
 Danger frowns near — I pray thee — pause — reflect ! — 
 
 But this I swear — high Heaven record my oath ! 
 
 I will not slight thy charge — thy cause betray ! — 
 
 But yet once more beseech thee to beware ! 
 
 Gia. The rubicon indeed is past — too late. 
 
 Farewell, thou noblest Guido! — with all trust, 
 
 Whate’er my sorrow be, I say farewell ! 
 
 Still know Giacinta evermore thy friend ! 
 
 Thy faithful and devoted friend — farewell ! ( She weeps.) 
 Guido. I am much troubled ! — Oh ! weep not ! — weep 
 not ! — 
 
 Am I the unhappy cause of those wild tears ? — ? 
 
 Gia. If thou art happy-— sweeter then than smiles 
 
86 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 The tears which haply thou art cause of — leave me 1 
 
 (Prince Guido kisses her hand,) 
 Guido. This be my pledge of pardon. — Ah ! — farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Guido. 
 
 Gia. The Rubicon is past! — aye! more — the Styx! 
 
 All wears the blackest hues of Hades round ! 
 
 Now ! — now ! ye fiends ! but sway me as ye list ! — 
 
 I feel your promptings at mine inward soul, 
 
 And hail them joyfully, and meet half way ! — 
 
 And said’st thou danger’s near ? — true, true it is, 
 
 And haply danger too for more than one ! — 
 
 On every side it yawns and glooms and threats ; 
 
 But yet this working brain, this thrice-steeled heart 
 Shall foil e’en fate and conquer ! — ’twill be so ! 
 
 ( Rings a small hell on table . Enter Raphael . ) 
 Without the least delay send Ludovic here ! 
 
 Where dwells he now concealed ? — 
 
 Raphael. Full near at hand !— 
 
 A bow- shot off! — Shall I command him here ? 
 
 Gia. Even on the instant ! 
 
 [Exit Raphael. 
 O’er my dreadless head 
 
 The thick-charged thunder-clouds frown threatening now', 
 And lightnings of fierce wrath ere long shall play, 
 
 To light me to destruction’s stormy joy ! 
 
 Oh ! that Montalba had confessed ! — Great heaven ! 
 
 Suppose she should believe him ! — All conceal, 
 
 And w r rest my horrid triumph from my grasp, 
 
 Since I cannot denounce him, save, indeed, 
 
 I make myself the sacrifice. — Well ! well ! 
 
 I will not think it — she wfill not do thus ; 
 
 And when he is betrayed — accused — he will not— 
 
 No — no— he will not — that I firmly feel, 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 87 
 
 He never will betray me — there I am safe ! — 
 He is too generous. 
 
 Enter Lunovic. 
 
 Ludovic ! — approach ! — * 
 
 Are others of thy troop now with thee here, 
 
 Whom thou canst deeply trust ? 
 
 Ludo. Three ! — lady, three ! — 
 
 Rocks to endure — and wild-fire to attack ! — 
 
 Sand to absorb — and solder to conceal ! — 
 
 Gia. Attend ! — I need thy services — ere long ! — 
 There are a youth and maiden here, at Rome, 
 
 Whom thou with certain of thy band must seize, 
 
 And with all haste and secresy, transport 
 To thy mysterious haunts i’ the Apennines. — * 
 
 Prince Guido Bellafiore is the youth ! — 
 
 The cousin of the Count Montalba’s bride 
 The maiden ! — When once these are in thy power, 
 Thou must compel the English maid to wed 
 One of thy troop — thyself! — brave Ludovic ! — 
 
 If so it pleaseth thee. — The maid is fair — 
 
 Bright as the Ausonian May — and there detain, 
 
 In strictest durance, in thy dens, the prince — 
 
 Till I shall come and claim him at thy hands. 
 
 When I have fixed not — if before the day 
 Of our great rising — he must well believe 
 I have by chance discovered thus the place 
 Of his detention — and have flown to yield 
 His ransom, and to offer him release, 
 
 If he will wed his kind deliverer — straight ! — 
 
 If after our grand struggle ? — then ’twere vain — 
 ’Twere needless to dissemble ! With a crown 
 
88 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV 
 
 To share with him, my way is smooth and plain ! — 
 Brave Ludovic ! — do thy part, and be the lord 
 Of bags of burning gold — thy guerdon good. 
 
 Ludo. It is not possible ! — How ? seize the prince 
 And the young maid here in the streets of Rome ! 
 
 It may not be ! — ’twere rash and mad indeed ! — 
 Remember, that the proud and palmy days 
 Of our most brave profession are o’erpast ! — 
 
 That grovelling governments have dared to trench 
 On our broad rights — long recognized and sacred— 
 That our high privileges are annulled — 
 
 Cancelled and razed our fair prerogatives. 
 
 It is a burning shame — but thus it is ! — 
 
 To seize upon the person now of men 
 Of any rank thus in the public ways, 
 
 Would bring destruction on our heads at once ! 
 
 We should be tracked — pursued — discovered — stormed 
 In our true warrior-citadels i’ the mountains, 
 
 And then given over to that jade — called justice ! — 
 Who opes her jagged jaws to crush our souls out. 
 
 ’Tis but by sleepless vigilance and care, 
 
 And keenest circumspection we contrive 
 To elude the myrmidons of government — 
 
 It is not possible, I say, once more. 
 
 Gia. 7 Tis difficult, but hear ! — Methinks I yet 
 Can smooth the ruggedness of this emprize, 
 
 And fence our undertaking fairly round 
 With statagem of likelihood. — I know 
 The prince hath purposed entering instantly 
 On a clandestine marriage with this girl. 
 
 There shall be trusty witnesses to swear 
 To this, and make their friends believe they thus 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 89 
 
 Have fled together with that end in view ! 
 
 Then we will so arrange and so dispose, 
 
 That they shall track them to Livorno’s port, 
 
 Whence it shall be supposed they have embarked, 
 
 To shun all hazards counter to their hopes: — 
 
 When I repair, the ransom to propose, 
 
 To your strong holds, I can ensure his silence, 
 
 And fabricate some tale. — ’Tis time we want ! — 
 
 And some quick coinage of the cunning brain. 
 
 Leave that to me ! thou Ludovic ! the brave ! — - 
 But well perform thy plain straightforward part, 
 
 And seize, gag, bear them like the winds away, 
 
 And plunge them in thy mountain privacies ! 
 
 Ludo. It bears a better colouring ! — good ! — I’ll do’t ! 
 
 Gia. ’Twere best that thou wert quartered in this house. 
 Ready to seize on ripe occasion! — straight 
 Prepare thyself ! — 
 
 Ludo. Aye ! lady ! doubt not me ! 
 
 Speak but the whisper, when the time is come. 
 
 Gia. ’Tis w T ell ! — consult with Raphael now, and Luigi — 
 They will bestow thee in some secret place ! 
 
 Fail not about thy person carefully 
 To guard our papers — till they be conveyed 
 To where I have given direction and command ! 
 
 Ludo. Stay, lady ! Should this fiery youth oppose 
 A desperate hot resistance, shall I then 
 Apply my little steely spell, here ? — charm ( Feels in his bosom,) 
 His heart to sleep with its sure lullaby ? 
 
 Gia. [starts.) The fiends ! — the fiends ! — ’tis theirs, not 
 mine ! — I see, — 
 
 I see them grinning, gaping round me now — 
 
 Gibbering and ghastly ? — -If it is not done 
 ’Ere the moon wanes, the bridal torch of Guido 
 
90 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Shall sear my heart’s core ! Yes ! most surely, yes ! 
 
 Ludo. And bear the corse, ’twere better, to our hold ! 
 
 Gia. [groaning.) Thou raven deathsman ! — stint thy hide- 
 ous prate — 
 
 Thy laidley loathsome croak — the mandrake’s shriek 
 Were music to mine ears, compared with that ! 
 
 Depart! — 
 
 Ludo. ( grumblingly aside.) Nay ; ’tis a delicate sense, 
 i’faith, 
 
 By’r lady ! — that can brook not thus to hear 
 What she hath urged an agent on to do ! 
 
 To murder one, and give another’s soul, 
 
 For that same deed, to purgatorial pains, 
 
 Or the everlasting excommunication, 
 
 Is nothing ! — No ! — but to hear of it — much ! 
 
 [Exit Ludovic. 
 
 Gia. Now must I shape, according to the events 
 Of the next few fleet hours, my course resolved. 
 
 This wild confederate, who hath lately joined us, 
 
 I fear he hath brewed mischief by his mirth ! — 
 
 This hair-brained young De Tours ! — he must not stay 
 Here at head-quarters. How may I devise ? — 
 
 Soft ! — soft ! — I have it ! — he shall soon be made 
 My secret messenger to Venice — there 
 He scarce can do the harm he might do here, 
 
 Mid these young, fiery, tameless spirits, all 
 Assembled from their various states and homes 
 In our mysterious congress ! — He must go ! 
 
 To-morrow’s westering sun must light him hence ! 
 
 He is of turn too light — of tone too loose — 
 
 Too gay of temperament — too glib of tongue — 
 
 For these dark passionate sons of Italy, 
 
 With their concentered sultriness of soul I 
 
Scene IV\ 
 
 EVA. 
 
 91 
 
 Alas! — Yet other things demand and claim 
 Imperatively my fixed attention now ! 
 
 Oh ! miserable wretch am I become — 
 
 Steeped in the blood of murder to the lips ! 
 
 Each moment wait I for a summons now 
 From my detested victim ! — she that dares 
 Call herself wife to him whom I once loved. 
 
 ’Twas well 1 could controul mine anger’s heat, 
 
 In parleying with false Guido at the last — 
 
 Else had he taught them haply to suspect me, 
 
 And been too on his guard ; — but all is well ! — 
 
 Now must I go and carve out all my plans ! 
 
 Prepare ’gainst every exigency’s turn — 
 
 Bury myself in business and in thought 
 
 Most studious — for it thickens now ! — it thrives ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Scene II . — The Palazzo Ceria, 
 flora and EVA. 
 
 Flora. Sweet Eva ! — though thou thus didst save my life, 
 Methinks I wish I ne’er had left my land — 
 
 Mine own blue Caledonia’s heathery heights ! — 
 
 Those mountains — queen-like mothers of my soul ! 
 
 I cannot bear to watch thy sufferings ! 
 
 Eva. Hush ! 
 
92 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Then thou hadst ne’er met Guido ! 
 
 Flora. It were best ! — 
 
 Perchance ’twere best ! — this hushed, dark, hidden troth — 
 This marriage, sealed in mystery — grieves my soul ! 
 
 Eva. Nay, cheer thee ! — thou wilt yet be blest — most 
 blest ! 
 
 When he shall bear thee midst the old Alpine hills ! 
 
 Those Mountains shall be Mothers of thy soul ! — 
 
 Nay, cheer thee ! — comfort thee ! — ah ! Flora ! speeds 
 The hour too of my heavier destiny ! 
 
 I told thee that Montalba had at length 
 
 His solemn promise given to open all 
 
 His long-veiled soul to me ! — Thou canst not dream 
 
 With what appalling awfulness of tone 
 
 He gave that promise ! — Whence his mania springs 
 
 I cannot guess, but fear ’tis rooted deep ! — 
 
 At times some suffocating terror chokes 
 My struggling heart’s pulse ! and I feel — I feel 
 I scarce know what ! — some supernatural sense 
 Of most unspoken pangs, like guilt — black guilt ! 
 
 But wherefore ! — am I not all innocent ? 
 
 Flora. Poor child! — thou’rt crush’d by conflicts long — 
 and fears, 
 
 And vigils, and sharp sufferings, and distrusts ! 
 
 Heaven send thee rest ! 
 
 Eva. Heaven send him rest ! — and then 
 
 Were I most happy! — He, thou know’st, hath named 
 The Coliseum, at the vesper’s hour, 
 
 For our sad trysting place ! — I go alone. 
 
 Flora. Art thou afraid, sweet cousin ? 
 
 Eva. Oh ! no ! — no ! — 
 
 Not of Montalba ! never / — but I fear 
 To see the unslirouded phantasies that whirl v 
 
Scene //.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 93 
 
 In his wild brain, and make his malady. 
 
 Good angels all befriend me ! — there are times 
 When I do sink as to the dust of death ! — 
 
 In utter black despondence !-— 
 
 Flora. Yet bear up ! 
 
 Go through thy fearful task with firm resolve. 
 
 And be thou careful not to breathe one word 
 That he may construe into contradiction : 
 
 Affect still to believe whate’er he says, 
 
 Soothe him and cheer — first probe, then bind his wound ! 
 
 Eva. I will ! — I will, with pitying Heaven’s sweet grace! 
 It nears the time. — Oh, Flora ! what’s the hour? 
 
 Flora. The chime told six five minutes back ! — 
 
 Eva. Oh ! come ! — - 
 
 Come with me, dear one ! to my chamber now ; 
 
 Strengthen me ! — pray with me ! — deal gently too 
 With all the infirmities of my torn mind. — 
 
 Bear with me, Flora ! — and forgive me all !— * 
 
 Bear with me ! — dearest! — 
 
 Flora. How bear with thee ? — thou 
 Art firm, yet gentle as some suffering saint, 
 
 Girt round with heaven-breathed magnanimities ! 
 
 Eva. I know not ! — am I gentle ? — am I firm ? 
 
 I know but that I am most wretched — most 
 Insufferably miserable! — 
 
 Flora. Alas ! — 
 
 Lean thou on me ! — thou tremblest — tremblest now 
 Like the frail aspen ! — So ! — one effort more! — 
 
 Thou bear’st it bravely ! I will come with thee ! 
 
 [ Exeunt . 
 
*94 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act I V. 
 
 * Scene III . — The Coliseum by Moonlight . 
 Montalba ( discovered ) . 
 
 Mont. Would she were come ! a fierce impatienee drives 
 My shrieking Soul along. — I scarce can breathe 
 Beneath this load of deadly secrecy — 
 
 That weightier seems and weightier still to grow T . 
 
 How have I borne it for so long ? Now, — now , — 
 
 Each moment seems to add a mountain more 
 To this o’erpowering burthen ! — Hush ! — she comes ! 
 
 Enter Eva. 
 
 My gentle, loving One ! thou hast well redeemed 
 
 Thy solemn pledge. — Stand there— no, nearer , — there ! — 
 
 Dost love me, Eva ! — speak ! — 
 
 Eva. Montalba ! — 
 
 Mont. Hush ! 
 
 Say not thou lov’st me ! — but I love thee —yes ! — 
 
 And I have loved thee with most fatal love. 
 
 Now listen — and prepare thyself ! — prepare ! 
 
 Oh ! Eva, love me never more ! — discard 
 Each thought of tenderness — destroy at once 
 Each gentler feeling — fill thy heart with hate — 
 
 Look on me with all loathing, teach thy soul 
 To spurn me and to curse — 
 
 Eva. Montalba ! 
 
 Mont. Aye ! 
 
 Ev’n so is called the loathliest monster — Earth 
 Ere yet engendered — Eva! — hist! 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 95 
 
 Eva, ( tremblingly .) My Lord! 
 
 Mont, my Lord ! soh ! —well !— this is as it should be ! 
 No kinder word, I pray, to cut my heart 
 Even to the core ! — Now listen and be sure 
 With all extremity of withering hate ! — 
 
 Disnatured, let thy lovely soul be armed 
 To loathe and to condemn, despise, abhor, — 
 
 ’Tis at thy hands I ask my punishment — 
 
 Let every look — so blessed once and bland — 
 
 Smite like the sword of justice — to my soul. 
 
 Let every word most poignantly express 
 Thine utter, wild abhorrence. — Yes ! I ask 
 My punishment at thy dear hands-— and pray 
 That thou wilt pour on this devoted head 
 Those coals of fire— which 
 
 Eva. Oh ! my husband !— haste ! — 
 
 Come back with me ! — come home ! — ’tis all a dream ! 
 
 The ruinous beauty of this awful place — 
 
 Gleaming in ghostly moonlight startlingly— 
 
 Troubles thy mind and wakes strange fancies there. 
 
 Here Time seems changed into th’ Eternity! — 
 
 All things around us — still as Night and Death 
 Do yet appear immortal as the Soul ! — 
 
 Stupendous Presences come gathering round ! 
 
 Communing with each other — not in words! — 
 
 And to our shrinking souls oppressed and stilled — - 
 The Majesties of Heaven and Earth appear! — 
 
 Entwined with mysteries of tremendous might ! 
 
 My soul faints, faints away beneath its dread — 
 
 Come hence with me, my Husband ! — come away ! — ■ 
 
 The annihilating awe o’erpowereth me — 
 
 O’erpowereth thee ! — thus doubly am I shaken ! 
 
 I cannot bear to see thee thus o’erwrought — 
 
 Thus — thus — 
 
*96 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Ad IV. 
 
 Mont. Nay! hear me out — at least, at least 
 I may claim thus much , Eva ! — Wife ! — from thee — 
 
 From thee — for whom I gave — so madly gave 
 That everlasting Soul I owed to God ! — 
 
 And grew a murderer — for the hopeless wretch 
 That stands before thee — is indeed condemned 
 In sight of Heaven! — of that most heinous crime ! 
 
 Through my means, Bianca Bellafiore died, 
 
 And I her death but compassed for thy sake — 
 
 By poison compassed it — and slew her so ! 
 
 Eva. Beloved Montalba! (aside) aye! distraught! dis- 
 traught ! 
 
 The maniac glares in every withering look \ — 
 
 My heart is dead ! 
 
 Mont. And what ! — -thou darest — thou darest ! — 
 
 Woman ! I charge thee, never more on me 
 Bestow such epithet of mockery — -no ! - 
 I will not bear it — I have borne enough ! — 
 
 Too much have borne! — and I am crushed at last. 
 
 I ask thee to abhor me — beg thy hate, 
 
 As starving men beg charity’s last boon. 
 
 Entreat thy sternness, — thy severity — 
 
 This cruel kindness mads my guilty soul ! — 
 
 With such a crime upon my spirit, still 
 Have I dared feast on Love’s deliciousness — 
 
 (While every breath of bliss I dared to draw 
 Still seemed a crime and fathered fresh remorse ! — ) 
 
 Have bared my heart to blessedness of joy — 
 
 Drunk of the cup o’ermantling with delight, 
 
 And culled affection’s life-enchanting flowers ! 
 
 And yet how often from thy presence even 
 Have I rushed forth to agonize alone, 
 
 And glut the worm that revelled on my vitals— 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 07 * 
 
 The never-dying worm ! — Oh ! couldst thou know — 
 
 (Thou never shalt ! — for thou would’st pity me) — 
 
 The tortures that have ground me to the dust, 
 
 The miseries that have mastered me, and martyred — 
 
 Oh! — Eva! Eva! — 
 
 [ She goes up to him and takes his hand in loth hers , 
 and kisses it , saying , 
 
 Eva. Let me but entreat— 
 
 [Mont, wildly flings her aivay from him. 
 Mont. Away ! away ! Couldst kiss this murtherer’s 
 hand ? 
 
 Couldst outrage nature, justice, feeling thus ? 
 
 Mock Heaven, and wrong pure womanhood so much! 
 
 All shame be on thee ! Is’t thy vanity 
 Is pleased to think on this foul sacrifice — 
 
 This hellish deed committed for thy sake — 
 
 This hideous proof of a most hateful love ? 
 
 All shame be on thee ! — Couldst thou — couldst thou kiss 
 This reeking hand, all dripping with her blood ! 
 
 Her heart’s-blood ? — Since it ceased to flow, through me! 
 
 I had looked forward to this dreadful hour — 
 
 Feeling thy horror and thy agony, 
 
 Sharp as the headsman’s axe had pierced me through ! 
 
 And proved some punishment for my dark crime ! 
 
 And I have yearned — longed — thirsted — maddened — pined — 
 For some deep retribution of my sin, 
 
 And felt thy shrinking from me would have been 
 Almost an over-payment of despair ! 
 
 I have a very hungering after hell ! 
 
 Oh ! for the dog’s death — let me die at once ! 
 
 But still — but still ! — nay ! — I am not yet prepared ! 
 
 And, oh ! my old gray father ! — that forbids. 
 
 Thou dost not shrink from me. I do believe 
 
* 98 
 
 EVA. 
 
 r Ad iv. 
 
 Thou dost approve the deed! — Come 1 . — curse me! come; 
 Take heaven to witness that thou hat’st me now ! 
 
 Or, shame be on thee ! — 
 
 Eva. ( Aside.) Hope ! farewell ! — farewell ! 
 
 The truth that slays me stares out to my soul, 
 
 And blinds and blasts it — there’s no loophole left 
 At which the least doubt might creep in — ’tis done ; 
 
 His mind is all a ruin, madness holds 
 Her empire o’er his once proud intellect. — 
 
 Oh ! can I see that ruin and not share it ? 
 
 Mont. ( who has been walking about hurriedly and rest- 
 lessly , suddenly stops and saysj 
 Thinkst thou ’tis mercy that thou art showing me ? 
 
 I tell thee ’tis not mercy. No I no ! no ! 
 
 Heaven ! it is the direst cruelty ! — Stand back ! 
 
 Shrink from me ! — fear me ! — shun my basilisk look ! — 
 Mutter thine execrations in mine ear. 
 
 I do desire thy loathing ! — I demand 
 Thy wild upbraiding ! — claim it as a right — 
 
 Command — conjure it !— spurned — would revel in 
 Such agony of chastisement — would drink 
 Thy desperate curses to my shuddering soul, 
 
 With keener thirst than ever yet I drank 
 
 Thy trembling vows of love ! Do thus — do thus — 
 
 Or cursed be that false love !— (Eva faints.) 
 
 Ha ! what is this ? 
 
 Have I slain thee too? Oh ! my Bride ! my Bliss ! 
 
 My Beautiful ! my gentle ! — and thy fault 
 Was but thine ever-during gentleness, — 
 
 Thy nature’s melting tenderness of truth ! — 
 
 Oh ! I have shocked thee from all sense — from thought — 
 From life — though not from love ! — return, return — 
 
 That I may die through joy and grief conflicting — 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 99 * 
 
 Thou beautiful death ! — be life and love once more ! 
 
 Eva (recovering ). Oh! my Montalba ! — leave me not — 
 art near ? 
 
 Yes ! yes ! and thou’rt not angered now ! — dear Lord, 
 
 Hast thou forgiven me ? — Say ! — 
 
 Mont. Forgiven thee ? tliee — 
 
 For what, poor dove ? 
 
 Eva. Alas ! — I know not well. 
 
 Mont. Come, lean on me, and I will lead thee forth— 
 Thy hand is ice, thy brow is ghastly ! — Come, 
 
 Forget awhile what thou hast heard. — Oh ! come, 
 
 Court dear repose upon thy quiet couch — 
 
 Since — Ah ! thou art changed as by an age of grief! — 
 
 What world of woe hath crushed thy fragile form ? 
 
 Thy life seems half in the empire of cold Death ! 
 
 [He leads her out. 
 
94 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Scene III . — The Palazzo Ceria. 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 Flora. I momently expect her! hark! I heard 
 Some creaking hinge— the rustling of a robe. 
 
 My heart beats painfully and thick tis hei ! 
 
 Enter Eva. 
 
 Almighty Heavens ! how ghastly pale ! Speak,— speak ! 
 
 How fares it with thee ? 
 
 EvA Me ! — think not of me ! 
 
 It is of little moment how I fare ! 
 
 Oh, Flora !— Flora !— such a hideous dream ! 
 
 Such a most deadly phantasy !— too much ! 
 
 It is too much ! — methinks I too go mad ! 
 
 [Puts her hands before her eyes. 
 
 Such gibbering spectres seem to gird me round, 
 
 Mocking and mouthing at me ! 
 
 jr L0> Tell me all ! 
 
 What did he thus reveal to thee ? 
 
 PV . Think ! — think ! — 
 
 What horrors must he daily suffer!— think 
 
 What pangs must gnaw his heart’s core ! He conceives 
 
 He murdered her, — his lost, betrothed Bianca ! 
 
 Administering some deadly poison’s bane 
 To her, even on the eve of their fixed nuptials ! 
 
 Flora. Poor, poor Montalba ! — 
 
 Eva I was shocked and grieved, 
 
 But did affect to think the phantasy 
 No fiction, but a fact.— Wilt thou believe 
 
Scene ] II.] 
 
 EVA, 
 
 95 
 
 He burst into a hideous spasm of rage, 
 
 That I seemed not more horror-struck at this, 
 
 His dread disclosure ! — True ! I started not— 
 
 Nor turned me from him — as I should have done 
 With almost loathing— had I this believed ! 
 
 But — wrung with pity — clasped and kissed his hand. 
 This roused him to that ire. He raved and stormed, 
 Wild-muttering with a maniac freezing stare, 
 Challenging me to curse him and abhor — 
 
 Upbraiding me with kindness, worse than death — 
 
 Down calling fate and vengeance on his head — 
 
 Himself accusing, as he loved to dwell 
 
 On that fierce torture of his own dark thoughts — 
 
 Self-execrations breathing — wild and deep — 
 
 And groaning forth the anguish of his soul, 
 
 Covering himself with dire and ghastly shames— 
 
 As recklessness of suffering brought relief— 
 
 Twas horrible to see his haggard looks — 
 
 Now — now a thousand passions fired his brow! 
 
 A thousand deaths now, there despaired and darkened 
 
 His eye in blood-shot fury rolled around, 
 
 And sent the terrors of his soul through mine ! — 
 
 His tones were like dread voices from the grave ! 
 
 The misery of his self-imposed remorse 
 Was so overpowering — and so deadly-deep, 
 
 Myself felt even such sinner in its shadow ! — 
 
 At last, methinks, he cursed me for my love ! — 
 
 I heard no more, o’erworn with anguish — torn 
 With fierce conflicting feelings, at his feet 
 I fell unconscious as a corse at length, 
 
 When I recovered, on his breast I found 
 My head was leaning; he with trembling hands 
 Was chafing mine, and pouring fondly forth 
 Endearing epithets.— My tale is told ! 
 
 He did sustain my feeble steps, until 
 
96 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act I V. 
 
 I reached this threshold, far more dead than live!— 
 
 Oh ! — Flora! — isH not dark and dreadful proof 
 Of madness this ?— and proof on proof again 
 His rage insane at my not loathing him — 
 
 Not shrinking from him. (Wrings her hands.) What ! what 
 must I do ? 
 
 What can I do ? — w 7 hat ought I now to do? — 
 
 Enter Guido. 
 
 Flo. Let us inform Prince Guido of the whole! 
 
 He will advise us I — 
 
 Eva. Do so thou ! — do thou, 
 
 I cannot ! — and be quick! — time presses much !— 
 
 For something must be done, and speedily !— 
 
 [Guido and Flora walk apart conversing. 
 Must I endure this life of racking woe? 
 
 Keep calm, and act the hypocrite’s cold part, 
 
 Montalba! — in thy presence? — Oh, beloved — 
 
 While every vein seems bursting with despair ! 
 
 To see thee daily dying — that worst death ! 
 
 The ruin of thy glorious intellect ! — 
 
 The w ithering of thy free and noble mind ! — 
 
 The grave’s crust curdling o’er thy warm affections — 
 
 Allthy bright eagle faculties— rare feelings — 
 
 Monstered by one most horrid mania’s strife ! — 
 
 Better to watch thee daily draw 7 the breath, 
 
 The suffocating, shivering, scarce-heaved breath 
 That wants but little to the last— to watch 
 Those fierce convulsions of the expiring frame— 
 
 What be they to the soul’s long agonies?— 
 
 The mind’s unutterably deadlier throes ! — 
 
 What kills that frame to suffer — to the soul 
 Gives but redoubled life ! — it grow 7 s on anguish ! 
 
 [Guido and Flora come forward. 
 
Scene ///.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 97 
 
 Guido. Dear countess ! — hear me ! I should counsel thee, 
 And without further loss of time to send 
 For aid professional — it must be so! — 
 
 Poor, lost Montalba ! — What a monstrous dream ! — 
 
 How doth it stamp his dire insanity ! — 
 
 Giacinta would — 
 
 Eva. I have just sent for her ! 
 
 I wrote, imploring her to come at once — 
 
 And made the bearer safe of the ill-starred scroll 
 My own most faithful Anthony, who best 
 On such a heavy errand I could trust. 
 
 Guido. I am right glad that thou hast sent to her: — 
 
 She is most prompt to counsel and devise ; — 
 
 And whatsoe’er her faults, I feel she is 
 A true and zealous friend. — Didst thou detail 
 The frightful circumstances of the case 
 Is this thy missive ? — 
 
 Eva. Yes ! in brief I did ! — 
 
 I felt to write it easier than to speak. 
 
 Guido. She will be here anon, then ? — 
 
 Eva. Every sound 
 
 I think ’tis her ! — Oh! woe! woe! woe! my heart 
 Can feel no hope, can dream no change — ’tis done ! — 
 Montalba is a maniac ! — What am I ? — 
 
 A widow, though a wife for evermore l 
 My hopes, my heart, my energies, my thoughts, 
 
 My feelings withering in my husband’s — cell ! — 
 
 Worse, oh ! ten thousand times than e’en his grave ! 
 
 For that I feel we should together share ! — 
 
 Enter Giacinta, who goes up to Eva, and affectionately 
 embraces her. 
 
 Gia. My gentle sufferer !— most unhappy friend ! — 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Alas ! — thy heavy tidings ! — must it be ?— 
 
 Eva. Oh ! counsel me Giacinta ! give me aid. 
 
 Is there a shadow of one hope yet left ? 
 
 Gia. Yes !— cheer thee up ! — I long revolved and weighed 
 Thy letter’s dire contents— at length a light 
 Gleamed through my troubled senses— I do see 
 But one expedient — that were safe and wise ! 
 
 Guido ! thou know’st thy father’s friend— thine own, 
 
 And also poor Montalba’s from his childhood 
 The celebrated Medico of Florence ! — 
 
 Guido. Thy good Dottore Reggio ? 
 
 q ia Right ! the same ! — 
 
 Guido. He was called in when my poor sister first 
 Showed symptoms of her mortal malady. 
 
 Gia. Therefore the best for us to call in now ! 
 
 For every reason — he would know at once, 
 
 Should poor Montalba wildly rave to him, 
 
 As he attended sweet Bianca s death-bed, 
 
 The tale a fabrication of the brain, 
 
 Diseased — distempered : — then , as the loved fiiend 
 Of Count Montalba, we are safely sure 
 He never will betray his mournful case, 
 
 (Since I do hope it may be still concealed !) 
 
 But keep that secret close as would the grave. 
 
 Reggio is most renowned for zeal and skill. 
 
 He will do all — that can be done — rest sure ! 
 
 And knowing from his earliest childhood thus 
 Our suffering friend, must know— a weighty point— 
 
 His constitution thoroughly and well. 
 
 I still believe ’tis but some passing heat 
 Of wild delirium— from unsettled health 
 And a too vivid, warm imagination ! — 
 
 If so— and our good Florentine achieves 
 
Scene III .] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 99 
 
 The cure we hope for — all will be hushed up ; — 
 
 I would not have it noised about for worlds : 
 
 On his recovery ’twould much chafe and grieve 
 Our noble patient. — This my counsel is, 
 
 Most secretly and speedily to send 
 
 This night to Florence some trustworthy man 
 
 To urge the immediate presence of the leech. 
 
 Guido. To thy sage counsel T do much incline ; — 
 
 It is the wisest course that we could take ! 
 
 ’Tw r ill prove, I hope, with thee — no stubborn case — 
 
 Some temporary, slight derangement ! — 
 
 Gia. Well ! 
 
 If thou, dear Eva, dost agree in this, 
 
 ’Tw r ere best the messenger were straight despatched, 
 
 Ere the night wears. — I w r ould enjoin ye all 
 To keep the strictest secresy on this ! 
 
 And all that bears upon this subject now^ ! 
 
 Tell not Montalba’s much-loved Della Moria. 
 
 He might not view the affair in the same light 
 That we all view r it, — and there is no end 
 To wonderings — hints — conjecturings — and reports. 
 
 Guido. Thou’rt right ! — Shall I at once indite and send 
 The letter to the Doctor Riggio ? — with 
 Our joint entreaties, he will lose no time 
 In being on the road to Rome !— wilt give, 
 
 Dear countess, thy consent to this — at once. 
 
 Eva. Methinks it seems the sole best method — yes! — 
 
 [Guido sits down and writes. 
 Guido, (to Eva.) Wilt thou permit me to give orders 
 now ? — 
 
 Eva. Oh, yes ! my brain whirls round, ( she sits down.) 
 
 What is’t ? — Yes ! — yes ! — 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Give thou the orders . — I am sick at heart ! — 
 
 Guido. What, ho ! within there ! 
 
 Enter Giachimo. 
 
 Haste— at once and find 
 Some trusty messenger to send to-night 
 To Florence, — bearer of this precious scroll ; 
 
 First let him wait on us for orders straight ! 
 
 Giach. I will obey your highness’s commands ! — 
 
 [Exit Giachimo. 
 
 Gia. ’Twere best, methinks, that I should now retire, 
 Since, should Montalba chance to pass this way — 
 
 He might suspect our conference did regard 
 In some sort his late parleying with his wife. 
 
 Eva. It might be thus !— Ah ! better thou shouldst go ! — 
 He is suspicious — sudden— at all times — 
 
 But trebly so of late ! — All thanks to thee, 
 
 Angel of consolations and best kindness ! — 
 
 Counsellor and comforter ! — good night !— good night ! 
 
 Gia. Acquaint me in the morning, I entreat — 
 
 Sweet Flora ! how this dreadful night hath past 
 With the poor outworn countess ! 
 
 Flora. Certainly, 
 
 f Gia. ( aside J Oh !— my heart leaps with hatred at thy 
 sight — 
 
 My very soul turns white with jealousy ; — 
 
 But thou shalt suffer !— thou shaltyet succumb, 
 
 And mine shall be the banquet of revenge — 
 
 The luxury of victorious hatred then ! — 
 
 [Exit Giacinta. 
 
 Guido. The messenger is tardy ! — It should scarce 
 Be far advanced in night ere he sets out. 
 
 Flora. Would he were come : he tarries tediously ! 
 
Scene III] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 101 
 
 Enter Giachimo. 
 
 Giach. The courier waits for orders on the outside. 
 
 Guido. Admit him instantly. 
 
 [Exit Giach. 
 
 The scroll ! — the scroll ! — 
 
 Flora, (takes it from the table , and gives it to Guido.) 
 
 Here ! — folded — sealed — addressed — 
 
 Guido. Best thanks ! beloved ! 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Guido. Art thou well horsed ?— 
 
 Mess. So please your highness — yes ! — 
 
 Guido. Canst ride like lightning ? 
 
 Mess. For a thundering bribe ! 
 
 Guido. That thou shalt have, if thou fulfil thy part ! — 
 (Thou must absolve thy &\\ty first — observe !) 
 
 To our full satisfaction!— these convey, 
 
 And with thine own hands speedily deposit 
 I’ the hands of him to whom the document 
 Is superscribed ; — with thine own hands , I say , — 
 
 And charge thee, on thy peril, to commit 
 Or botch or negligence, nor dare return 
 With plausible excuse for foul default. 
 
 Mess. I will do all I am directed. — Know 
 A fleeter, steadier messenger ne’er made 
 The road ring out beneath his flying steed ! — 
 
 Give me the scroll, my lord ! 
 
 Guido. Here ! — put it up, 
 
 And swift to horse ! — to horse ! — and draw T not rein, 
 
 Save to change coursers, till thou gain’st thy goal. 
 
 Swift — in the saddle ! — start! — make furious haste ! 
 
EVA. 
 
 102 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Haste — haste— for life and death! — mount— speed— post- 
 haste. 
 
 [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Guido. Now I entreat ye both to seek repose. 
 
 The best we could devise hath now been done. 
 
 Fair countess ! I beseech thee lean on me. 
 
 [Exeunt all. 
 
103 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — Servant's Apartment. Count Mont alba's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 GIACHIMO AND ANTHONY. 
 
 4 
 
 Giach. List, Anthony — a lady proud and fair, 
 
 The Countess di Castellanaria sends 
 
 To ask news of your health , since she hath heard 
 
 This air of Rome doth disagree with you. 
 
 Fain would she these three golden pills prescribe, 
 
 Trusting they may most beneficial prove. ( Offers him gold.) 
 
 Antho. I’ll roll thee quickly to one pill of paste, 
 
 And swallow thee, just silvered o’er with salt, 
 
 Thou Flibbertigibbert of a flying fish ! 
 
 There’s for your Countess Cast-steel — more like brass, tho’, — 
 A fillip and a fig for her and you. ( Chucks the money vio- 
 lently out of his hand.) 
 
 [Giachimo angrily puts his hand to his bosom. 
 Wouldst draw thy needle from its housewife case, 
 
 And run me through — the tip o’ the little finger ! 
 
 I’ll drown thee then incontinently — yea, 
 
 I’ll drown thee in — the drop of blood that’s spilt ! 
 
 Or grind thee into powder’s airiest snuff, 
 
 And take thee ’twixt my thumb and finger — thus, 
 
104 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V . 
 
 Without remorse, at one small pinch — of page ! 
 
 Why dost thou stick for ever to my skirts ? 
 
 Thou bur — thou barnacle — 111 shake thee off, 
 
 Though like a very minister of state, 
 
 Fastening to peck and perch, though stuck’st to me, 
 
 I will not be thy butt — thou barleycorn ! 
 
 Out on thee, squeaking penny-trumpet ! — out ! 
 
 Thou sprat — thou spot— thou dot !— thou vile grimace ! 
 Thou hornet-hobbledehoy — thou buzzing booby ! — 
 
 Think’ st thou thy countess shall corrupt me ? — No ! 
 
 Fly off — evaporate — hence — retreat — disperse ! 
 
 Thou vast assemblage of absurdities — 
 
 Most riotous concourse of nonentities ! — 
 
 Vanish !— avaunt ! — I tell thee! — truce to all 
 Thy brazed audacities, or else, indeed, 
 
 I’ll tickle thee o’ the wrong side of thy heart, 
 
 And turn thee inside out. 
 
 Giach. Old thunderer ! — come, 
 
 If thou must grumble, growl in strain more civil. 
 
 Antho. Not I ! — my queer young quack, with your pre 
 scriptions ; 
 
 Come — pick your poisonous pills up ; on my soul, 
 
 I’ve nine good minds to ram them down your throat, 
 
 And try the power of your digestion thus! 
 
 There, pick them up— and take them back to her, 
 
 Your charming Countess Castle-in-the-air-there ! 
 
 Take them to her, you carrier pigeon — you 
 Distributor of cards ! — you poodle-comber ! — 
 
 Or I will comb and card and pluck you soon ! 
 
 Oh ! that I were once more in mine own land ! 
 
 Sick, sick am I of this outlandish desert ! 
 
 By this time I should have forsworn my state 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 105 
 
 Of single blessedness — some goodly wife 
 And family around ! — all jolly dogs ! — 
 
 Enter Francisca. 
 
 Fran. Why, how now, Anthony ? — what ails thee, pray ? 
 
 I ne’er yet heard thee speak in such grave tone — 
 
 What say’st thou of a wife and family ?— 
 
 Antho. That 1 do wish I dwelt among them now ! — 
 Fran. I knew not thou wert married ! — 
 
 Antho. No ! nor I ! 
 
 But I may wish I was ! — 
 
 Fran, (laughs.) Oh! — surely yes! 
 
 But, if a ready-made young family 
 
 You’d like to have — adopt some hundreds here, 
 
 Of houseless starvelings — ‘twere a worthy deed. 
 
 Antho. I thank thee kindly — I’m unworthy of it. — 
 
 Fran. And as for wife ! why, our majestic Rome — - 
 The widow of a world — for such she is— 
 
 Count her your stately, glorious, beauteous spouse. 
 
 Antho. I’m no uxorious husband, then, I swear. 
 
 I wish she’d sue for separate maintenance ! — 
 
 A widow, quotha ! — faith — a jolly one — 
 
 But rather far advanced, methinks, in years. 
 
 Fran. Now, Anthony! — you always chatter so, 
 
 You will not let me tell my lady’s message. 
 
 Antho. Come, that’s a good one : you’ve been rattling 
 on — 
 
 Fran. ’Tis quite impossible one little word 
 To squeeze in edgeways — such a tongue you have, — 
 
 Clack — clack — all day and night, the whole house rings 
 With your incessant gabbling. — It is strange 
 The men can never — never hold their tongues. 
 
 How I’ve been trying all this time, in vain, 
 
106 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 To make you listen and attend to me. 
 
 Antho. Now what’s the message ? 
 
 Fran. There — you see — you see — 
 
 He will not let me speak a sentence — peace ! 
 
 And hear your lady’s strict commands :■ — she begs 
 You will not leave the house this afternoon. 
 
 The count is poorly — you must be at hand, 
 
 To hurry for the leech, if ’tis required. 
 
 And stay — mark — Anthony ! — 
 
 Antho. Mark Anthony ! 
 
 Why, that’s some old, great Roman’s Latin name, 
 
 One of their ancient coves and codgers, sure ! — 
 
 I’m grown so learned — an antiquarian quite ! 
 
 What is’t ? — my pretty Cleopatra, eh ! — 
 
 (Who was Mark Anthony ? — her love I know — 
 
 And rather think, from what I can collect, 
 
 He was some famous fox-hunter of old.) — 
 
 Fran. ( tossing her head.) Your Cleopatra ! — Say not that 
 again. 
 
 Marry come up ! — a likely story that. 
 
 In the first place, good man, what made me yours ! 
 
 And am I like that Amazonian mummy? — 
 
 That great gigantic thing, whose needle looks 
 For all the world, like some huge pillar-post ! 
 
 Antho. I cry you mercy ! — I had understood 
 She was a pretty gypsey — like yourself ! 
 
 Giach. The proud triumvir lacked another world 
 To lose for thee, sweet Francy ! 
 
 Antho. Try ’em, how much ? — 
 
 Fran. Well, Anthony, when you can pause, awhile, 
 
 Just to take breath, you everlasting jabberer, 
 
 Allow me to inform you further — thus 
 The countess doth desire, that when arrives 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 107 
 
 A friend from Florence, whom she now expects, 
 
 You should immediately acquaint herself, 
 
 And not my lord the count — that he is here. 
 
 Antho. I w T ill forthwith — and rather had, by far. 
 
 My lord the count is grown so fierce and strange 
 I nothing like so little as to meet him : 
 
 ’Twas but the other day he called for me, 
 
 And bade me bring a glass of w T ater: — well, 
 
 He said ’twas bad ; on which I just remarked 
 It possibly was poisoned! — since such things, 
 
 I had been told, were common here in Rome !- — 
 
 He started up, and thundered at me so, 
 
 To get me gone ! — I staid for no more orders — 
 
 But tumbled over head and heels down here — 
 
 Curled up into a most compact close ball! — 
 
 As you might do {to Giach.) my ourang-outang-hedgehog ! 
 I think my lady will repent, ere long ; — 
 
 I wish, with all my heart, we ne’er had met — 
 
 Nor married these Italians, — that I do !- — 
 
 Giach. I must begone — affairs important call ! 
 
 The Countess di Castellanaria begged — 
 
 Antho. What ! — going to that lofty lady’s house— 
 Your Countess Cast-her-on-the-harriers-there ? 
 
 Fran. What is thy business there ? — acquaint us, pray ! 
 Giach. You know she hath the fairest, choicest flowers 
 That may be found at Rome in her vast gardens ; 
 
 And she still tells me, in her gracious way, 
 
 To come and gather nosegays for my lady — 
 
 And the Signora Flora: — ’tis most kind! 
 
 Antho. For my part — I do think that I have seen 
 Your Countess Cast-her-well-in-tlie-area, cast 
 Some sheep’s-eye stolen glances at our prince — 
 
 The noble Guido. — How is that, my mop-stick ? 
 
108 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Giach. And I well think the lady may perchance 
 Be deep in love, for I too oft have seen — 
 
 Fran. ( eagerly ,) What ! — Giachimo ? — 
 
 Antho. What? — Jackanapes! — out with it! 
 
 Giach. The coimtess looking most incessantly — 
 
 Intensely too, and with an anxious mien — 
 
 Sure proof she is outrageously in love — 
 
 At — her fair self — reflected in the glass ! — 
 
 Antho. How ! — Noodle ! — art thou making game of us ? — 
 I’ll tread thee out now like a twinkling spark ! 
 
 I’ll trample on thee for a long lank weed! 
 
 Giach. I am most serious ! — Ask Francesca now 
 If’tis not true, that when a lady falls 
 In love, she doubly falls in vanity ! — 
 
 For every feeling that she gives to him, 
 
 Her worshipped one ! she keeps ten for herself \ 
 
 And likes him in proportion as he yields 
 A woman's wealth — large crops of admiration ! 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Anto. Francesca ! is my lady’s health improved ? 
 
 Antho. My lady ! — Why! I thought it was my Lord 
 Was suffering with the queerums ! — how is this ? 
 
 Fran. Nay ! both indeed are slightly indisposed. 
 
 My lady hath a sharp attack of nerves; 
 
 A tenible malady — I know it well ! 
 
 ( affectedly ,) I suffer tortures often from this cause — 
 
 And grow hysterically sensitive. — 
 
 Anto. ( aside.) I like it not ! — I cannot comprehend 
 What may have passed of late — but something hath. 
 
 Have dark suspicions haply got abroad ? — 
 
 I have but one thing still to do ; — but one , 
 
 And that is, to be silent — close as death ! 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 109 
 
 Fran. Well ! Anthony ! — I must not stay indeed ! — 
 
 You have detained me here so very long 
 To listen to your never-ceasing prate — 
 
 You most incorrigible babbler ! — now, 
 
 You know, I’ve said a thousand times, I must, 
 
 I must indeed not stay on idling here — 
 
 Attending to your garrulous gossip ! — now 
 Release me, do ! — I must not stay, indeed — 
 
 So felicissima notte ! — Anthony. 
 
 {Exit Francisca. 
 
 Antho. Feller-cheese-is-more-knotty ! — stuff and por- 
 ridge ! 
 
 It seems indeed a mighty knotty point ! — 
 
 Dost feller me ? it sounds unseemly, quite 
 Improper to a person of my station ! 
 
 Come, my good Tony O ! — now I really must — 
 
 (I can no longer bear this ignorance) — 
 
 Entreat of you to let me know my rank ? 
 
 Anto. Your rank ? What mean ye ? 
 
 Antho. Why ! I know I am 
 
 A major major duomo ! but I lack 
 
 This knowledge which I therefore seek from thee: — 
 
 Say in what regiment — abroad or here — 
 
 Do I my new commission hold — and if 
 ’Tis in the cavalry or infantry ? 
 
 Giach. Oh! capital! delightful! ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Anto. Ha ! ha ! a wondrous puzzling question ’tis. 
 
 Oh ! in the cavalry, be very sure ; 
 
 You’ll have to mount your charger now ere long; 
 
 A stout one I should hope, for both your sakes. 
 
 Antho. I am rejoiced ’tis in the cavalry ! — 
 
 I like not walking much, especially 
 
 In this hot soddening clime — a horseback now 
 
110 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 I shall feel active, airy, light, and pleasant ! 
 
 I’ll mount the breach ! 
 
 Giach. Beware ! thou’lt break it down ! — 
 
 Antho. Your soldier is your true chameleon, he 
 Lives on the breath of glory and its smoke, — 
 
 A very palatable food — no doubt ; — 
 
 Though sometimes hurtful to the constitution ! 
 
 He wears her colours all — now pale to death 
 
 His heart’s core rasped and riddled through with shot, 
 
 And now flushed deep with gory crimsoned stains, 
 
 Or blue with honourable scars, or swarthed 
 And smutchy with the dim dusk sulphurous clouds 
 Of fiery war ! —Shall I be such chameleon ? — 
 
 Giach. A very corpulent chameleon, troth !— 
 
 You thrive on air! — 
 
 Antho. And you on airs ! — you ape ! — 
 
 You’re a nice article — you are : — begone 
 
 To your dear Countess Castor-oil-and-hartshorn-her ! 
 
 Giach. Good John roast Bull! I will evaporate thus ! — 
 
 Exit Giachimo. 
 
 Anto. And I must leave you Anthony as well ; 
 
 I have commissions to fulfil to-day — 
 
 For my good Lord : — I haste to seek the priest — 
 
 His worthy grave confessor — kind Anselmo. 
 
 Antho. And I may go and take my little nap : — 
 
 This clime is only fit for sloths, methinks, 
 
 Since ’tis impossible to do aught else 
 Than help each other to do — nothing here l 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
Scene //.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Scene II . — An Apartment in Count Montalba’s Palace. 
 
 Enter the Marchese Della Moria. 
 
 Della Moria. Methought that I should here Prince Guido 
 meet : 
 
 I have strange tidings for his private ear : 
 
 But the whole palace seems deserted quite ! 
 
 No stir of steps — nor voices : — it is strange ! 
 
 Strange too the change in poor Montalba’s mien 
 And manner : — haggard-wild his countenance, — 
 
 His eye is hollow, — ashy is his cheek, — 
 
 Save where at times a burning fever- spot 
 Proclaims that all is war — wild war within ! — 
 
 I understand it not — ’tis mystery all ! — 
 
 And with so lovely, so unmatched a bride, 
 
 Ne’er — ne’er yet saw these eyes a living form, 
 
 Or an ideal one of such heavenly beauty ! — 
 
 Happy Montalba ! — for he ought to be 
 The happiest of the blest ! If I had drawn 
 So bright a lot, I were indeed so ; — yes, — 
 
 Were I the husband of that peerless one 
 I should be more — pshaw ! — folly ! — it is vain. 
 
 To think of bright — impossibilities ! — 
 
 That gentle, shrinking Eva — with a voice 
 
 So silvery in its softness, that it seems 
 
 Heard only by the charmed sense of the heart ! — 
 
 Soh ! here is Guido ! 
 
112 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act f 
 
 Enter Guido. 
 
 Prince !— a word with thee ! 
 
 And instant ! — it concerns thy safety much. 
 
 Guido. And how ? 
 
 Moria. As I was passing yestereve, 
 
 Through a bye-street alone — I marked two men 
 Leaning beside an antique fountain — cloaked 
 Up to their chins, and wearing masks besides, 
 Engaged in earnest conversation close. — 
 
 They heard me not.— I caught tliy whispered name, 
 And listened breathlessly !— though what I heard, 
 Was heard by broken snatches, leaving much 
 That had elucidated more their parley, 
 
 It was enough to wake alarm for thee ! 
 
 Thus ran what I could glean of their discourse : — 
 
 « The young Prince Bellafiore ! — is’t to night ?” 
 This asked the one, the other answered him, 
 
 “ No not to-night “ To-morrow then, T trust,” 
 Rejoined the former speaker— “ May be so !” 
 
 Was the reply — then lower sank their tones — 
 
 Till presently some slight dispute arose, 
 
 And then they raised their voices :— one exclaimed, 
 “ Thou hadst the moiety of the booty, then !— 
 
 The captain shared it with thee ! — and thou knowst 
 Our last rich English family, ’twas thou 
 That hadst the sacking of their luggage all I— 
 
 ’Tis now my turn, and I will claim my right 
 Whate’er about his person we may find, 
 
 When he is seized ; ’tis mine by all our rules, 
 
 And by all laws of justice— and of honour!” 
 
 Then entered they into a long dispute— 
 
 Abuse — recriminations — threatenings — oaths — 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 113 
 
 Were wanting not; but I had heard enough, 
 
 And happily succeeded to elude 
 Their scrutiny, and wended on my way, 
 
 Resolved to seek thee in the morning ; since 
 ’Twas plain, that night at least, that all was safe ! — 
 
 I counsel thee, prince ! — for some time to come, 
 
 To move about most cautiously and armed l — 
 
 There must be some dark plot against thee hatched ! 
 
 Some villany afoot ! — Look to it well ! — 
 
 Guido. I thank thee for thy tidings and thy hints : 
 
 I will not go abroad without my arms ! — 
 
 It is most strange ! 
 
 Moria. Reports of thy vast wealth 
 
 Have doubtless fired the rogues’ cupidity ; 
 
 But they are baffled— since thou’rt now prepared ! — 
 
 Yet I would urge thee on thy guard to be : 
 
 There are some desperate wretches, who would pause — 
 Would stint at nothing, now abroad — ’tis said, 
 
 Driven from the adjacent country — their old haunts — 
 
 By rigorous measures, routed — checked — dispersed — 
 
 Till found they refuge in the streets of Rome ! 
 
 These in the city act their lawless deeds — 
 
 Even at our thresholds dare their ravages ! 
 
 And there commit their depredations, yet 
 All undiscovered, on the citizens ! — 
 
 This I believed not, I confess, till now ; 
 
 But it should seem it hath some touch of truth. 
 
 Enter Eva. 
 
 Eva. Guido, hast heard aught yet from Florence — say ? 
 Forgive me, noble marquis — I marked not 
 That you were by ! — Hast seen my lord to-day ? 
 
 Moria. Madam, not yet, I am but lately here. 
 
 Eva. Methinks ’twere best you should not see him, then ; 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 EVA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 He hath been indisposed most grievously, 
 
 And passed a restless night. I urged repose : 
 
 He now lies stretched upon the couch within. 
 
 Moria. ’Twere better he should know not I am here. 
 (Aside,) Heavens ! what a most angelic aspect ’tis ! — 
 New beauty seems to pass into her face 
 Each time the eyes do steal a look at her ! — 
 
 Farewell ! in the evening I will come again 
 And learn fresh tidings of thy husband’s health. 
 
 \JAxit Della Moria. 
 
 Eva. Did I not well, dear Guido ? — it were best 
 It should be known and thought he is unwell ; 
 
 Lest, were he all too suddenly removed 
 From his own friends, and from society — 
 
 Suspicions, gathering soon, may be afloat ; 
 
 And then — besides he is unwell indeed ! 
 
 His hands burn fearfully — his temples throb ! — 
 
 Guido. Sweet lady ! you have done all for the best 
 And bear up wondrously — but I could wish 
 Thou wouldst not wear thyself with watching thus ; 
 Nought can be done till worthy Reggio comes. 
 
 Eva. Ah! but each moment I expect him now. 
 
 My pulses toll as ’twere a funeral knell, 
 
 Yet far outrun the lazy, laggard chime — 
 
 Did I but count by them he should be here ! — 
 
 Alas! — my speech, I doubt, fantastic grows ; 
 
 From the complexion of his own, it takes 
 
 Its troubled colourings !— Wilt thou meet, my prince, 
 
 When first he comes, the good physician here ?— 
 
 Didst thou inform him, in those hasty lines, 
 
 Of our most heavy fears — of all the dread — 
 
 Th e — the— - 
 
 Guido. The mournful features of this case — 
 
 I gave a rapid outline — but will more 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 115 
 
 Explain — expose, if thou shouldst deem it best — 
 
 I nothing said of that dark haunting thought, 
 
 That phantasy which makes his heart its prey. 
 
 Eva. Oh ! caution him to shroud, with watchful care 
 The dreadful truth, from my beloved lord. 
 
 We must assure Montalba he is come 
 By chance to Rome ; — then let thy friend affect, 
 
 But from his looks, his illness to infer ; 
 
 To judge from outward signs of the inward strife. 
 
 Guido. This shall be done ! — 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 My heart’s bright sunbeam, haste 
 And shine away the shadows of our gloom. 
 
 Flora. Ah ! no ! — too much I share it — not yet come ? 
 Guido. Not yet — but fear not, he will soon be here. 
 
 Flora ! thou’rt pale and weary ! — 
 
 Flora. Tush ! — I charge thee 
 
 Think not on me ! look not on me ! ’tis nought ! 
 
 Think of her sufferings ! look at her changed form ! 
 
 My sorrow is but sympathy with hers ! 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. The Countess di Castellanaria waits. 
 
 Eva. Without delay admit her. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 ’Tis most kind 
 
 The tender interest that she takes in all 
 That thus concerns us ! — she is kind indeed — 
 
 And most affectionately grateful I ! — 
 
 Enter Giacinta. 
 
 Gia. I am much grieved to hear this sharp suspense 
 
 i 2 
 
116 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Is still continued — that he is not come, 
 
 Our worthy Reggio ! — It perhaps is well, 
 
 Since those who suffer in the dreadful way 
 That poor Montalba doth, are shrewdly quick 
 For ever to suspect — and to misdoubt. 
 
 Had his appearance followed quickly thus— 
 
 Hark there ! I heard methinks a noise of wheels, 
 
 A tramp of horses— ’tis most surely him ! 
 
 Look to the countess ! — Oh ! she faints ! she falls ! 
 
 (They lead her to a seat, she starts up.) 
 Eva. No ! I must fail not !— to Montalba straight 
 Must I repair— preparing him to meet 
 His ancient friend ! — and ye, Giacinta, Flora, 
 
 Hasten within ! — ’twere best that Guido should 
 First meet him — yet— how spins my tortured brain. 
 
 [Exeunt Giacinta and Flora. 
 
 Guido !— thou must come with me to my Lord, 
 
 Better wilt thou command thyself, and tell 
 The tidings of this new arrival too, 
 
 Than I can do — a tremour in my tone, 
 
 A change upon my cheek, and he might ’gin 
 To glean suspicions from my treacherous weakness, 
 
 Then canstthou here return to greet thy friend ! 
 
 Guido. With all thy wishes let me but comply !— 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (As they are going the Doctor enters at opposite side , con- 
 ducted by AnthonyJ 
 
 Antho. I will inform the gracious countess, sir, — 
 
 This way, I pray— that you now wait her pleasure. 
 
 [ Exit Anthony. 
 
 Reggio. And shall I meet indeed young Guido here ? 
 
 I have but rarely seen him since that night — 
 
 That night of doom and death !— and dread and doubt!— 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 117 
 
 How I once loved him ! — from his boyhood he 
 Was ever my delight ! — a blessed child ! — 
 
 And he was like a last-born babe to me ! 
 
 His health being something delicate, requiring 
 Incessant watchfulness. — I daily saw him — 
 
 How he would fly, dear cherub, to mine arms ! 
 
 And call me still his second father — so ! 
 
 And I now shrink from him with loathing e’en ! — 
 The hideousness of that most horrid doubt, 
 
 So nigh to certainty , doth frown between 
 And part us, and for ever ! — yet so weak, 
 
 So very weak my melting heart was still, 
 
 I could not bear to breathe the scantiest hint — 
 
 The slightest murmur of my deadly knowledge ! 
 Poor victim ! — poor Bianca ! — thou sleep’st well ; 
 But had I breathed the history of thy death — 
 
 How would thy princely father — how would all, 
 
 To thee by ties of blood and nature bound, 
 
 Have bowed beneath the crushing weight of woe, 
 That scarce can find a consolation here — 
 
 The knowledge that one loved one died a victim ! — 
 Another loved one lives — the criminal ! — 
 
 Guido ! — I hear that thou’rt approved of all — 
 High-hearted, noble, brave, free, frank, and proud, 
 Munificent and generous !— it may be ! 
 
 But thou’rt a demon yet, if thou indeed 
 Art thy poor sister’s black-soul’d murderer ! 
 
 And this by startling facts I am assured ! 
 
 Most certainly by poison ’twas she died ! 
 
 Staggered by symptoms unaccountable, 
 
 I prayed the father’s leave to ascertain 
 The immediate causes of her death deplored ; 
 Urging my mind’s sole satisfaction’s plea, 
 
118 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 As to what source that fatal illness owned. 
 
 Not hinting in the least I did suspect 
 She had been foully dealt with : — he agreed, 
 
 And placed beyond a doubt — was this dark fact — 
 
 She died hy poison ! — then whose murderous hand 
 Administered the death draught ? — was the question : — 
 
 One and one Tmly by her death could gain ! — 
 
 That one was — who ? — her brother ! — he sole heir 
 
 To almost regal wealth, at once became 
 
 To state, place, power, and honours high and proud, 
 
 He — only gained by her untimely fall ; 
 
 And Guilt and Guido seem too surely — one ! 
 
 I feel ’tis so ! — yet weak as childhood’s self 
 My heart leans still too much to mercy’s side ! 
 
 How could I bear my boy ! — my child ! — my flower ! 
 
 My darling and my nurseling of old years, 
 
 Should perish, and through my means on the scaffold, 
 Convicted too of so abhorred a crime ? — 
 
 Oh! saints defend me ! — it is he himself! 
 
 Enter Guido, who extends his hand to Reggio. 
 
 Guido. My best old friend ! what ! not a hand to give 
 To your spoilt Guido ? — nay ! ’twere most unkind ! 
 
 Come, ( embraces him,) I would chide thee soundly, had I 
 time, 
 
 But we are met on grievous business here. 
 
 My brief communication, half expressed 
 The deep affliction under which our friend, 
 
 The Count Montalba, is sore labouring now. 
 
 The countess will herself detail to you 
 The painful and precise particulars. 
 
 Thus much she hath commissioned me to say, 
 
 First, that on no account you must disclose 
 
Scene II. 
 
 EVA. 
 
 119 
 
 To her afflicted lord the reason why 
 You bide at Rome ; and secondly, she begs 
 That you will pledge yourself most solemnly 
 That no coercion, save where strictly needful, 
 
 Shall be attempted in this mournful case : 
 
 And yet another thing she doth entreat, 
 
 You will not hint at separating her 
 
 From her own rightful post — her husband’s side ! 
 
 Poor lady ! — you must pity her sad state, 
 
 And show her all indulgence, kindness, aid, 
 
 And feeling’s sympathy ! — She suffers much. — 
 
 Reg. I am the more induced to do so, since 
 I love her lord, and ever honoured him ! 
 
 Guido. ( aside,) His manner is much changed to me — so 
 chilled ! 
 
 So grave and distant ! — but it hath been thus 
 When we have met — which hath but seldom chanced, 
 
 E’er since my dearest sister’s death ; — as though 
 He thought my inward feelings must be changed, 
 
 Because my prospects and position are. 
 
 (To Reggio,) I need not recommend you to employ 
 Your deepest skill, for our dear patient’s sake ! 
 
 Nor warn you not to whisper one faint hint 
 Of his unhappiest, awful malady. 
 
 Reg. Assuredly you need not! — all my heart 
 Is listed on the hapless sufferer’s side ! — 
 
 Guido. Now will I seek the sorrowing countess — straight, 
 And lead her to this chamber. 
 
 Reg. It is well ! 
 
 {Exit Guido. 
 
 The same frank, open, fearless air and tone, 
 
 The aspect and the accost, and all the same : 
 
 He must be hardened past redemption, sure — 
 
120 
 
 EVA. 
 
 \_Act \ 
 
 If he hath such a sin upon his soul, 
 
 And yet above it such a face can wear ; 
 
 ’Tis inconceivable and terrible ! 
 
 If he hath such a sin ? — It must be so ! 
 
 Were there not other circumstances joined, 
 
 In dark array, to point him out the man ? 
 
 Did not the Countess di Castellanaria 
 Observe to me how evermore he watched 
 To give his sister each cool chrystal draught — 
 
 As though through brotherly affection’s zeal, 
 
 (The countess, this conceiving as the cause ?) 
 
 Not this alone — a thousand things appeared 
 To witness ’gainst him with the trumpet’s tone ! — 
 
 Yes ! — Guilt ! — black Guilt and Guido must be one ! 
 Montalba ! — poor Montalba ! — thy sad state 
 Scarce claims my thoughts, so much on him they brood, 
 The assassin of his sister — and thy bride ! 
 
 Enter Countess and Guido. 
 
 Guido. The kind physician, who hath hastened here, 
 Obedient to your wishes and commands. 
 
 With sympathizing moumfulness awaits 
 Your orders, lady, and your will attends! 
 
 Eva. I am most grateful to thy friend, that thus 
 He hath precipitated here his steps : 
 
 Beseech thee, Sir, one moment to attend 
 While I dispose of matters with the Prince. 
 
 Guido ! — our kind Giacinta, knowing well 
 
 It is my earnest wish that Flora hence 
 
 Should be removed, while these most painful scenes 
 
 (Which I far better shall support alone) 
 
 Take place within the palace, hath proposed 
 That thou shalt her accompany ere long — 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 121 
 
 Escorting to Giacinta’s home, where both 
 May well remain, till what time I shall send 
 To seek you there, when all is o’er, and tranquil, 
 
 And pray you to return to this abode ! 
 
 Do not, I beg, dispute this point with me — 
 
 I am most fixed, most firm in this resolve. 
 
 Dear Flora still is slightly delicate — 
 
 Too sensitive to brave such fearful scenes. — 
 
 ’Twere vain to strive to shake me — this besides, 
 
 I wish ail hushed and silenced. — 
 
 Guido. Yet, but think, 
 
 How wilt thou need affection’s kind support, 
 
 And friendship’s services, and prompt devotion*— 
 
 At this sad crisis ! — Oh ! vouchsafe to hear ! 
 
 Beseech thee be advised ! — thou art too rash 
 To enter thus on such a trial sore, 
 
 Alone ! 
 
 Eva. My heart must be so ever, since 
 None — none can share its loss, or match its love : 
 
 The immeasurable misery that o’erpowers 
 My soul in its abandoned singleness — 
 
 Must make me henceforth evermore alone, 
 
 In one unbroken solitude of soul ! — 
 
 No more ! my prince, I am determined thus ! 
 
 And without witnesses, save one, whose help 
 Can sole to him avail, thus sole to me , — 
 
 Thy worthy friend — will act my fearful part. 
 
 Guido. Since it is thus ’twere vain to urge thee more — 
 It seems like cold desertion — harsh neglect ! 
 
 But thou knows’t ’tis not so ! — and must I yield ? 
 
 Eva. Thou must ! — kind Guido ! — and full soon, I pray, 
 Conduct my gentle Flora from this house. 
 
 Guido. I must obey thee, though I fear herself 
 
122 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Will much oppose — and much resist this plan. 
 
 Eva. Convey my earnest wishes to her now ! 
 
 [Exit Guido. 
 
 I do delay like one about to embark 
 On a tempestuous sea of billowy strife — 
 
 And yet pause timidly upon the shore 
 Of mine engulphing enterprise of grief ! — 
 
 I pray thee, sir ! be seated. ( They sit doivn.) 
 
 Thou’rt aware 
 
 Of our most dire suspicions ! — 
 
 Reg. Madam ! — yes ! — 
 
 I fear it must be a soul-harrowing task 
 For thee to enlarge on all the symptoms shown 
 Of late by thy unhappy consort ; yet 
 None could £o well, I doubt, fulfil that task! 
 
 Eva. I shrink not from it — or if I do shrink, 
 
 The sense of this mere selfishness of suffering 
 Will but the more uprouse me to o’ercome 
 That woman- weakness 1 — 
 
 Reg. Have these symtoms been 
 
 More frequent lately and more marked and strong ? 
 
 Eva. They have long gradually been deepening on, 
 
 Even without intermission have increased, 
 
 At times his strong, insidious malady 
 Hath made precipitated progress — then 
 Less suddenly pressed foward, might appear 
 Brought haply to a slight but treacherous pause ; 
 
 Yet ’twas not so ! — or if it was — ’twas but 
 A breathing moment, which appeared, alas ! 
 
 To lend but new strength to the following phrenzy. 
 
 Reg. Hath he displayed dislike unto thyself? 
 
 Impatience at thy kindnesses — disgust 
 At thy once much-loved presence ? 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 123 
 
 Eva. Oh ! no ! no ! 
 
 Stay ! in one instance — that I will relate 
 
 I’ the course of our sad communing— oh ! no ! — 
 
 He ne’er hath showed dislike nor change towards me, 
 
 Save in the impatient sallies of the soul — 
 
 Which like chance-scattered arrows, here and there 
 Flew far and wide — none aimed at — striking all ! — 
 
 Reg. I understood thou hadst had to bear with much. 
 Eva. Endurance hath made up my life of late ! 
 
 But not from his unkindness — he hath ne’er 
 Been grievously unkind to me ! — though oft 
 I’ the hurry and the wildness of his soul, 
 
 The impetuosities and heat of thought, 
 
 He hath said things that have much racked my heart. 
 
 No matter ! — they ne’er rankled there, at least ! — 
 
 Reg. ( aside.) The wounded dove thinks not of her own 
 hurt, 
 
 Made strong through the unabated tenderness, — 
 
 Through the unextinguishably exquisite 
 And passionate affections that controul ! — 
 
 Though ’twere immedicably deep — that wound — 
 
 She feels the blood that quickens round her heart — 
 
 Not that which gushes from it ! — ( to EvaJ hath he seemed 
 To bear himself of late, despite all this, — 
 
 Still with his wonted health ? 
 
 Eva. Except the flush 
 
 Of fever — and the outwearying restlessness, 
 
 Which chases slumber from his throbbing temples ; 
 
 Except for this — and yet his aspect shows 
 As there were corporal suffering too, so changed, 
 
 The last few days, especially, I fear ! — 
 
 He hath become attenuated — pallid — 
 
 And changed in features as in countenance. 
 
 Reg. Doth some prevailing phantasy appear 
 
124 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 To be as the orbed moon of his mind’s strong tides ? — 
 Some one particular, especial theme 
 Goad him to fury on the slightest hint, 
 
 And draw forth all his latent heat of mind ? 
 
 Eva. Yes, a most fearful and distracting dream ! — 
 
 A most intolerable imagining! 
 
 ( Aside. Why is’ t with a peculiar weight of woe 
 I do approach this portion of my tale ? 
 
 Ah ! ’tis because it stamps the fatal truth 
 Beyond my skill to doubt! — for I have sought, 
 
 With patience and with skill, to carve and shape 
 Some probability of sweet escape 
 From these o’erpowering horrors.) — Yes ! he doth 
 Nurse a most dark delusion in his mind, 
 
 Which I will tell to thee anon ; but first 
 I pray thee to assure me solemnly, 
 
 Distinctly, and with full, unwavering faith, 
 
 That whatsoe’er the upshot yet may be 
 Of his dread phrenzy, thou wilt never seek 
 To part me from my special place — his side ! 
 
 There is my world ! — though true that world’s eclipsed, 
 
 Its darkest dust is worth the stars to me ! — 
 
 There is my life ! — though it be wrung with anguish ; — 
 
 To breathe another air were not to be ! — 
 
 Existence else were universal death ! 
 
 Give me that pledge, that promise — I will be 
 Whate’er thou bid’st me in his presence still ! — 
 
 Talk him to rest — or stay there, taciturn 
 As the cold grave : — that were a princely house, 
 
 Compared with what the maniac’s cell must be ! 
 
 Oh ! heaven ! — Oh ! heaven ! — and can I speak that word ? 
 And can I think that thing and breathe and live ? — 
 
 Give me the promise ! — mould me as thou wilt — 
 
 I will but look and move as thou advisest. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 125 
 
 I will e’en strive to feel — to rule my soul 
 And rushing heart — as thou dost counsel me ! — 
 
 Despoil mine eye of all its tenderness, 
 
 If it should better suit to seem more stern ! — 
 
 Deny me not ! — I will not let thee speak, 
 
 Because I see what thy dark speech would be, 
 
 I interdict thine interdiction thus !- — 
 
 I will not leave him — while I yet may live. 
 
 In fine, I tell thee that we must not part ! 
 
 Refuse me not ! — it were indeed in vain ! 
 
 Reg. Ev’n if thy lord’s recovery should depend 
 On such a separation for awhile ? — 
 
 Eta. Thou staggerest me — for that most wished-for end 
 What wT)uld I not confront — what not endure 
 Of agony — of torture ? — and believe 
 To leave him w r ere to drain the deepest lees, 
 
 To plunge in the profoundest depths of both. — 
 
 Must I, indeed, then leave him ? — lose myself — 
 
 That I but know through thoughts of love for him — 
 
 And duteous waiting on his every wish ! — 
 
 Oh ! worst, unprecedented doom of ruin ! — 
 
 Say ! must this be ? — 
 
 Reg. Nay! lady! I trust not! — 
 
 But cannot yield a positive reply 
 
 Till I have seen thy husband. — Pray unfold 
 
 What is this haunting phantasm of his thought, 
 
 Whose governing influence rules his transport’s tide. 
 
 Eva. A wild and phrenzied and most dire conception 
 He doth believe — my poor Montalba doth — 
 
 That he — thou knew’st the fair young maid, methinks, 
 
 The youthful Princess Bianca Bellafiore ? — 
 
 Reg. Ev’n from her earliest youth — to her last hour ! 
 Eva. And know’st she was betrothed to my dear lord, 
 
1*26 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V . 
 
 And died ev’n while the marriage crowns were wreathing. 
 
 Reg. None know as well as I do, all that hangs 
 To the most heavy history of her death ! — 
 
 Eva. My husband, with distempered rage insane, 
 
 He — that would harm not — the least living thing ! — 
 
 Swore, with deep, solemn oaths, to me, of late, 
 
 And doubtless doth believe with his whole soul, 
 
 He murdered — poisoned her, his promised bride ! 
 
 Reg. ( Starting from liis seat.) Ha! — ye! — Almighty 
 heavens ! hear that ! — Is’t so ? — 
 
 Eva. ( rising J Alas! my heart dies — dies 1 — within — me 
 now. 
 
 Dost think from this his fierce disorder proved 
 Incurable ? — But spare me ! mercy ! say but no ! 
 
 Ah ! mercy ! — mercy ! dos’t thou all despair ? 
 
 Lives there no hope ? — no remedy ? — no aid ? — 
 
 Tell me — at once ! — and kill me : — oh ! but speak ! 
 
 ( Sinks down on her chair.) 
 Reg. ( agitatedly J Sweet lady ! — peace ! — I know not ! — 
 oh ! be still ! — 
 
 (My own brave Guido !) — nay — I nothing know — 
 
 I fear there are strange things ! — (my high-souled boy ! — ) 
 Poor lady ! — (he is innocent !) 
 
 Eva. Great Heaven ! 
 
 Thou wilt not answer me ! — Is there yet hope ? 
 
 Break me not thus on doubt’s revolving wheel ! — 
 
 Now hope— now fear— now firmness — now distrust ! — 
 
 Reg. Oh ! lady! — ask me not! — (thou injured virtue ! — 
 My guiltless, guiltless one !) — I must not stay. 
 
 ’Tis most imperative, ( aside.) — I must absolve 
 This dreadful duty! — Not a moment — no ! 
 
 I must not lose one moment, lest my soul, 
 
 Once more unsteeled, should into ruth relapse. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 127 
 
 I dare not hesitate — away ! — 
 
 Eva. And what! — 
 
 How says’t thou ? — wouldst thou see him now at once ? 
 
 Let me conduct thee then, ( rising from her seat.) 
 
 Reg. Not so — not so ! 
 
 Methinks ’twere more advisable to w r ait — 
 
 On further thoughts, methinks it w 7 ere more meet ! 
 
 This sudden and precipitated journey — 
 
 Its hurry and disorder — make me most 
 Unfit to see my noble patient yet — 
 
 (Heavens ! mine own Guido ! cleared, — cleared — spotless ! 
 stainless !) — 
 
 Dear lady ! I will wait on thee ere long — 
 
 I — I — in truth I will return full soon. 
 
 (My gallant boy ! — but thou, Montalba ! — thou ! — ) 
 
 [ Exit Reggio. 
 
 Eva. Small consolation doth he give me thus ! 
 
 Where, where must I now bend my tearful gaze ? 
 
 Oh ! where must I for touch of comfort look ? 
 
 He seems perplexed by all I have described, 
 
 And no opinion will pronounce. — Ah ! me — 
 
 What noise was that ? — I shake at every sound. 
 
 Some grisly, supernatural terror seems 
 
 To paralyze my senses — I must haste 
 
 To my most mournful post — must seek my lord, 
 
 And like a trembling sentinel, remain 
 A heavy watch to keep o’er his chance words 
 And looks and movements, and to ward off all 
 That might, perchance, jar harshly on his soul, 
 
 Already from its own fair course so warped. 
 
 Ah ! he is here ! 
 
 Enter Montalba. 
 
 Mont. Dow r n, down, ye deadliest thoughts ! — 
 
128 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 I will not scare her softness with your gloom. 
 
 Still, still how strange her ’haviour ! when I breathed 
 My blood-defiled confession in her ear ! — 
 
 Eva, mine own, — I pray thee lose no time 
 In penning some few lines, in duteous vein, 
 
 To my dear father he complains how oft 
 We do omit this duty — chief of late. 
 
 How cans’t thou meet mine eye with such calm kindness ? 
 How canst thou brook my voice — when — when— thou 
 know’st — 
 
 How bear my presence ? — nay — -be still! wild conscience ! 
 
 Eva. I will obey thee, and rejoin thee here 
 In some few minutes space. 
 
 [Exit Eva. 
 
 ]\Iont. How strange it is ! — 
 
 Her sweetness and unaltered tenderness — 
 
 Her most unruffled gentleness and mien 
 Of melancholy— hushed serenity 
 Appear to rack with agonizing throes — 
 
 More than the wildest torrent of reproach — 
 
 The fiercest outbreak of aversion — horror, 
 
 Or ice of sternliest alienation could ! — 
 
 How is’t she shows not more abhorrence:— wore— 
 
 She showeth none-' at my unheard-of deed 
 Of giant-guilt ! — Is’t from indifference born 
 Of aught I do or have done — all her soul 
 Absorbed in thrilling interest for another. 
 
 This cannot be ! for woman’s natural sense, 
 
 The instinctive hate of crime, would teach her must , 
 
 With loathing to recoil from such a fiend 
 As I have owned myself to be, to her ! 
 
 ’Tis a refinement in this retribution 
 A keen perfection in my punishment— 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 129 
 
 The injurious ingenuity of infliction — 
 
 The delicate and deadly finish given 
 
 To the dread chastisement of my black crime ! — 
 
 That her unchanged affection — at the least — 
 
 That which appears so — should most minister 
 To my unuttered anguish of remorse. 
 
 ’Tis like the Indian tortures — thus they wring — 
 
 Not with huge, stunning strokes — but long-drawn pangs; 
 Not crashing through the frame — the up-stirred flesh curd- 
 ling 
 
 With piercing pincers ’stead of hacking hatchets. 
 
 Re-enter Eva. 
 
 Eva. Enrico, I have done thy bidding. — Say, 
 
 Wilt thou, beloved, thyself subjoin a line ? — 
 
 Mont. Nay ! my sweet scribe !— -since business calls me 
 hence. 
 
 I am about to found and to endow 
 A mighty monastery at Florence, straight— 
 
 And vast donations, largesses immense 
 Shall drain my coffers for that holy house, 
 
 Which I would make most prosperous and most affluent. 
 There orisons shall still be offered up — 
 
 For me and mine — tliy innocence — my guilt ; — 
 
 Though, but in general way, with all our house ! 
 
 And yearly (it doth soothe my tortured soul 
 To dwell upon these thoughts !) shall be performed 
 A funeral service for the virgin dead ! 
 
 The sacrificed — the martyr’d — she — the murdered ! — 
 
 Aye — masses for her spirit — said and sung, 
 
 Shall be repeated there to the end of time ! — 
 
 With prayers from all that grave community. — 
 
 Oh ! may this something lighten of its load 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 My withered soul ! — and in some slender sort 
 Even reconcile my mind and thoughts to grace ! 
 
 Eva ! —thou wilt not stay me, nor oppose 
 In this desire — my fortune’s greater part, 
 
 To dedicate to this high duty thus !— 
 
 Eva. I never will oppose thee, that thou know’st 1 
 Mont. If I so steeped in the infamy of erime, 
 
 Am not unworthy to pronounce such words — 
 
 Oh ! hear me say, Heaven bless thee — bless — thee — bless ! 
 (shuddering J It hisses into curses on my lips ! — 
 
 Eva. ( gently J Oh, no ! it falls like spring-dew on my 
 soul! — 
 
 Mont. Well ! — well ! Anselmo waits without for me : 
 
 I do remember me he waits without, 
 
 On these grave matters to confer at once : 
 
 I must not here detain him. Would, ah ! would 
 This hallowed edifice erected were — 
 
 Erected, and endowed, and flourishing — 
 
 And those most solemn masses thrilling through 
 Mv listening soul ! — the still small voice, half hushed, 
 
 That whispers ever to that soul o’er wrung — 
 
 “ The deed ! — the deed ! — the hideous deed’s despair !” — 
 Besides — oblations, alms I do propose 
 Widely through Rome and Florence to distribute ! — 
 Anselmo waits — and I must hence — sweet wife ! — 
 
 Eva. Where shalt thou meet him ? — good my Lord — I 
 pray ? 
 
 Mont. In mine own chamber’s quiet privacy. 
 
 [Exit Montalba. 
 
 Eva. The leech delayeth tediously ! — I feel 
 Like some lost wretch, that hath himself prepared 
 For the last pang of dying ! — kneeling down 
 Beside the block, with the axe uplifted o’er him, 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 131 
 
 That will not fall — to crush — and to release him ! 
 
 Yet seems each stir — each movement — as a death ! — 
 
 Re-enter Reggio. 
 
 Reg. Ha ! lady ! — thou’rt yet here ! — I pray thee, say — 
 Hast thou the young* Prince Guido lately seen ? — 
 
 Eva. ( coldly.) I have not — but unnecessary seems 
 His presence now : — I would thy thoughts were more 
 Directed to my suffering husband ! 
 
 Reg. Ah ! 
 
 They are indeed ! but fain would I awhile 
 With the Prince Guido have consulted, ere — 
 
 ( aside. Great gracious heaven ! — must I first break this 
 news, 
 
 These ghastly fatal tidings to her ear ? 
 
 Courage ! ’tw T ere best to speak at once — at once ! ) 
 
 Unhappy lady ! — tremble not; — be calm. 
 
 Eva. Not tremble ! and thyself thou art shivering like 
 A leaf o’ th’ shaken aspen ! — and more white 
 Than the sad shroud, or sadder brow of death. 
 
 I see ! — I see ’tis hopeless ! — yes ! thou art come 
 To blast mine ev’ry hope ! — pronounce despair ! — 
 
 Pronounce it — then ! — and let me know the worst ! 
 
 Reg. Dear lady ! — hist ! — thy husband is not mad ! 
 
 Eva. (joyfully.) Not mad! — what think’st thou ’tis some 
 passing dream ? 
 
 Some harmless aberration — faint and slight ? 
 
 Oh, joy !— Methought I was to hear despair! 
 
 Reg. ( solemnly.) Thou hast the worst to hear — the dead- 
 liest — worst ! — 
 
 Prepare thyself ! — alas ! — I do repeat 
 
 Those withering words ! — thy husband is not mad ! 
 
 Himself hath not deceived — nor thee— nor me ! 
 
 k 2 
 
132 
 
 EVA. 
 
 | [Act V. 
 
 Weigh all their horrid meaning’s hideousness — 
 
 Till thou shalt pray that he were mad indeed ! 
 
 No dream !— no phrenzy ! — no distemper— none ! — 
 
 Oh ! — I have stunned her into stone ! — she stands 
 All hues of life struck from her aspect’s stillness ! 
 
 Nay, lady ! — speak ! — weep ! — shriek !— but stand not thus! 
 As the image of amazed despair’s Life-Death ! 
 
 Eva. ( starting J What darest thou hint, old man ? — what 
 darest thou mean ? — 
 
 Not mad ! — I swear — that he is mad — he is ! — 
 
 Away i — I’ll say it ! — shriek it to the world, 
 
 And tell it out to all ! — he’s raving mad ! 
 
 Thou dar’st not doubt it ! — look not so on me ! 
 
 With that appalling pity ! — he is mad ! — 
 
 I stake my soul, and its eternal weal 
 
 On that stern truth for evermore ! — do’st hear ? — 
 
 I say to thee he's mad / — most hopelessly. 
 
 I say it, shout it— till my voice, grown hoarse, 
 
 Sounds like his muttered ravings ! Since he’s mad. 
 
 He is ! — unsay thy horrid words of doom ! 
 
 Swear it to me — thyself— himself— all — all ! 
 
 Aye ! — in the world’s ear shout it ! — he is mad ! 
 
 Reg. Would that he were ! — I cannot hint such hope ! 
 Eva. Am /becoming so ? — my brain is scorched ! — 
 
 My heart is all in darkness ! — who art thou ? 
 
 Thou ruthless man, that whisperest to my soul 
 Perdition it had never dreamed before ! 
 
 Swear he is mad with me ! — ho ! bear him off! 
 
 Chain him and scourge him ! — stripes and echoing blows ! 
 All that most haunted me with horrors, late — 
 
 The solitary cell — the bolts and bars — 
 
 The dungeon-den— the pallet heaped with straw, 
 
 Those howling wretches round — those shrieks those 
 
 
 groans — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 133 
 
 Those sharp-hissed blasphemies — those threateniugs fierce — 
 The gnashing teeth, the unspeculative eye, 
 
 The depth of all debasement and disgrace, 
 
 The lazar-house of lost humanity, 
 
 And the unimaginable outrages, 
 
 The abominations of barbarity, 
 
 The common spectacle in careless eyes, 
 
 The horrible parade of ruin there, — 
 
 A holiday amusement for the heartless ! 
 
 These things crowd back on my tormented thought, 
 
 And seem beatitude to this which blasts me ! 
 
 A vision that shuts out the heavens above. 
 
 Makes the sun blackness — checks the liberal air, 
 
 Till ’tis one choking thick stagnation ! So — 
 
 A cell, but not the maniac’s! — and a chain 
 But not the lunatic’s I — a sharp, sure stroke — 
 
 But not the lacerations of the lash ! — - 
 
 Heavens ! Heavens ! — the world hath withered from my 
 feet! 
 
 [ Faints. 
 
 Reg. Poor sufferer ! why ! ’tis better thus — what, ho ! — 
 Within there ! — haste ! — haste ! — help ! — your lady’s ill ! — 
 
 Enter Francesca and Servants. 
 
 Look to the lady ! — One of you at once 
 Conduct me to the presence of the count ! 
 
 Bid the lieutenant and his guards await — 
 
 I will instruct them in their duty soon. — 
 
 Oh ! heaviest day of unexampled gloom. 
 
 [ Exit with a Servant. 
 
 Fran. Ah ! my poor lady ! — yet look up ! look up ! 
 
 What dire event hath happened ? — So ! she moves ! 
 
 Eva. ( starts up. ) They say he is not mad ! — ’tis they that 
 rave ! 
 
] 34 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 They too are phrenzied — worse than he is ! — no 
 They cannot that , for he is howling mad ! 
 
 Raving and raging, horrible and awful ! 
 
 Most hopelessly, irrevocably mad ! 
 
 Dy’e hear it all, your master is distraught ? 
 
 Remember, I have told ye — he is mad ! 
 
 And must at once be dragged from hence — removed ; 
 Dragged — ironed and pinioned — to the asylum ; — yea ! 
 There — to the asylum — midst the outrageous wretches 
 That howl their hearts away ! — Speak — swear it !— -swear . r 
 All of ye swear he is most raging mad ! — 
 
 Fatally !— furiously !— bear witness all ! 
 
 Enter Giacinta. 
 
 Oh ; my Giacinta ! — thou wilt swear it— thou ! 
 
 Thou know’st Montalba’s mad incurably. 
 
 Gia. ’Tis thou hast told me so ! — 
 
 Eva. Thou dost not doubt it ? — 
 
 That weak old man from Florence hath been here — 
 
 And having heard my history’s long details, 
 
 With ghastly mockery, swears he doth not rave,- — 
 
 Gia. Thou didst not tell him all ! thou didst withhold 
 That dire confession ? 
 
 Eva. Nothing! — nothing ! — No ! 
 
 That is the proof! — the confirmation ! — that ! — 
 
 He is mad, thou know’st it! — and I know it — mad ! — 
 
 Gia. Alas! — I fear not so ! — beware how thou 
 Dost tell him thou didst think it ! — be most sure 
 He never will believe it — never — never ! 
 
 And I can bear not witness to thy tale. 
 
 ( Aside,) Now must I play a deep, deep part ! — confess 
 To her I did suspect him, but believed, 
 
 From her assurance, he was now distraught- — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 135 
 
 And hoped and thought that Reggio had not made 
 The dark discovery of the atrocious deed ; 
 
 And never would, unless she did disclose it! — 
 
 She must not to Montalba breathe my name. 
 
 Eva. Dost thou desert me too, Giaeinta ? Thou ? — 
 
 Art leagued against me ? art suborned ? — art sworn ! 
 
 Who ! — who will help me ? — I will run through Rome, 
 Proclaiming to the general ear he’s mad ! 
 
 For he is so — if e’er man was so yet. 
 
 Gia. How much I cautioned thee, and all in vain ! 
 
 Myself suspected there had been foul play — 
 
 But hoped that Reggio was deceived, ne’er dreamed, 
 
 That thou wouldst tell it. — Think, oh ! Eva! think! — 
 Think well what thou hast done ! betrayed thy lord ! 
 Condemned him to an ignominious death ! — 
 
 ( aside J Oh ! full, deep, royal riches of revenge ! — 
 
 Eva. Death ! — why what is it ? — have men ever died ? — 
 Then how doth life inhabit yet this heart ? 
 
 ’Tis plain that death hath abdicated nature ! — 
 
 Enter Montalba followed by Reggio. Lieutenant , and 
 Guards . 
 
 Mont, to Eva. Soh ! thou art there ! thou true and duteous 
 wife ! 
 
 ’Twas very meet — I own, — and feel ’twas right — 
 
 Thy hand should give me to the deathman’s gripe ! 
 
 Thou , for whose sake I thus immersed my soul 
 In seas of sin — whose scarlet stains — 
 
 Eva. Thou’rt mad ! 
 
 Show them — my husband ! thou art stark, stark mad ! 
 
 The wild, clenched hands ! — the gnashing teeth ! — the eye, 
 Rolling in red-filmed phrenzy all — 
 
 Mont. Peace ! peace ! — 
 
136 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Insult me not with this most foul pretence ! — 
 
 And loathed parade of worst effrontery : — 
 
 Thou never thoughtst me mad ! — vile feint ! vain fetch! 
 
 To cloak the monstrous wrong of thy betrayal, 
 
 Though well imagined in its treacherous trickery : 
 
 Thou wouldst not have all the outraged world exclaim, 
 
 The wife betrayed the husband ! — gave him up 
 To justice, and the headsman, and the scaffold ! 
 
 The ingenious artifice I must admire, 
 
 But cannot hug the cloud — and be deceived ! 
 
 Eva. My husband !— Oh ! my husband ! — 
 
 Mont. Right well played ! 
 
 What ! thou pretend’st to love me, Hypocrite ! 
 
 So ! art in love with murder ! — it may be 
 Some dark attraction thou mayst see in all 
 This hideous circumstance of funeral horror, 
 
 Which thou wouldst trumpet thus to the echoing world ! — 
 Or haply art in love with Deaths — and think’st 
 Thou wilt look on me with more tenderness, 
 
 When the eye no longer can glance back to thine, — 
 
 The breath that bless’d thee ne’er again shall flutter — 
 
 The lip can never more sigh, love for love — 
 
 And the soul’s shadow passes from its glass — 
 
 The countenance — as breath doth from the mirror! 
 
 As that last dying breath from the unstained chrystal ! — 
 Strange amorous fancy this ! — Think’st I believe it ? 
 
 Aye ! wring those hands ! blood glues their palms together ! 
 Thy husbancTs ! — and the blood too that he shed 
 For thy sole sake — thou murd’ress of the murderer! — 
 
 And toss those arms, whose dark embrace was — death ! — 
 Beat that black heart — far hollower than the grave, — 
 
 And tear thy hair — it should be writhing snakes — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 137 
 
 And hissing serpents, beauteous Gorgon ! — off ! 
 
 Eva. Burst — heart ! — my husband ! — ( Falls on her knees 
 before him.) 
 
 Mont. Off! I tell thee, off ! 
 
 When I am dying, through thy loving deed — 
 
 Then> vampire ! come and suck my heart’s-blood, then ! — 
 Not now — thou scorpion-smiler ! canst not wait? 
 
 Wait for the full feast of thy dark delight — 
 
 The fruits of thy fiend-execrated falsehood ! — 
 
 (For e’en the very demons loathe thy deed, 
 
 And seem like white-stoled angels near thy soul, 
 
 Shutting their gates against thee with a curse !) 
 
 Wait! wait! I say ! — if thou canst deign to pause 
 Till I am gone — and thou in Guido’s arms ! — 
 
 Aye ! what ! — thou dost not start ! — thou knowst it’s true — 
 That I am sacrificed to this, thy love ; 
 
 Oh ! deep concerted webs of wickedness ! — 
 
 Oh ! murderous weaver of these mingled meshes ! — 
 
 Reg. I swear thou wrong’st her! — 
 
 Mont. Peace ! accomplice ! peace ! 
 
 Thou wert her kind assistant in this work ; 
 
 The web’s well wrought ; but ’tis so finely finished, 
 
 That, look ! ’tis all transparent, — truth shines through it ! 
 
 Oh, Eva! thou, the adored, and now the accursed! 
 
 False heart ! foul mind ! thou faithless, fatal thing ! — 
 
 Eva. Curse on ! curse on ! — I feared in my worst pangs, — 
 I feared thou wouldst forgive me ! — that, Oh ! that 
 I never could have borne ! — Thy scorn ! — thy hate ! 
 
 Aye ! thy injustice are so many mercies ! 
 
 But thy forgiveness were the o’erflowing drop ! — 
 
 No ! — no !- — thou’rt not unjust ! — I merit all ! 
 
 Kill me ! Oh ! kill me ! soul and body kill ! 
 
 My sin’s the consummation of all crime, 
 
138 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 All devilish instincts must have woke in me, 
 
 To urge me on to that most deadly error ! — 
 
 Yes ! yes ! the fiends in their fierce flames abhor me ! — 
 
 And shut their gates against my blacker soul ! — 
 
 Say not — I knew not of it! — Nature’s self 
 Should have some warning felt ! Oh ! dead, dumb sense ! 
 Dumb, dead, and blind-bound spirit ! — the earthquake comes, 
 But there are portents heralding its presence. — 
 
 This, my unconscious crime, frowns more colossal, 
 
 In deadly hideousness, in murderous mystery — 
 
 Than all the conscious — preconcerted crimes, 
 
 That man — confronting condemnation’s worst — 
 
 E’er yet committed — or e’er yet conceived ! — 
 
 [At this moment Guido rushes in, wounded slightly , 
 and disordered , bearing Flora in his arms . 
 
 Guido. My life! — my love! — my bride! — my own be- 
 trothed one ! 
 
 Look up ! — thou’rt safe ! 
 
 ( Sees the group before him — stops amazed.) 
 
 What means this strangest scene ? 
 Montalba ! — guards ! — and Eva’s very ghost — 
 
 So death-like ashy pale ! — 
 
 Mont. It means thus much ! — 
 
 In these few words — the murderer of thy sister 
 Behold in me ! 
 
 Guido. ( Staggering back.) Heavens ! 
 
 Mont. In this woman’s shape 
 
 The fiend that could betray him ! — yet — ha! — hist 
 Who calledst thou thy love ! thy bride ! reply ? 
 
 Who is thy bride ? — thy love ? — dost clasp her ? 
 
 Guido. Aye ! 
 
 Oh ! I am staggered {-—sickening with this shock ! 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 139 
 
 And must T take this horror to my soul ; 
 
 Wert thou indeed then Bianca’s murderer ? 
 
 Mont. Yes ! — 
 
 And thine , poor Eva ! — injured, outraged wife ! — 
 
 Flora, ( starts up ,) What dreadful thing hath thrill’d 
 
 upon my ear 
 
 What awful scene is opening on my vision ? 
 
 Why, Eva ! Eva ! — is’t then thus ? — Oh, ruin ! — 
 
 Reg. to Guido. And could I thee suspect, my noblest boy ! 
 Guido. Thou didst! — first now I thread thy conduct’s 
 maze ! — 
 
 Reg. ( aside J My noble, faultless boy! — my guiltless, 
 wronged one ! 
 
 [Gia. pale and trembling is about silently 
 to steal out , but is stopped by Guido. 
 Guido. Nay ! — pause !— Giacinta ! — here thy presence 
 seems 
 
 Required, — most urgently. — Strange things have chanced 
 Myself and Flora, near thy palace gardens, 
 
 Where thou hadst left us for some five brief minutes — 
 Beside a fountain, whose cool wave had tempted, 
 
 Were suddenly attacked by three masked men ; 
 
 To whom I did oppose resistance fierce, — 
 
 Most fortunately with my arms provided, — 
 
 While Flora’s piercing shrieks — there roughly seized 
 By these foul ruffians — happily were heard 
 By Della Moria — passing not far off* ; — 
 
 He flew to render his assistance ! — soon 
 We mastered then, these miscreants: — two escaped — 
 
 The third, w T ho seemed their leader, deeply hurt, 
 
 Lies bleeding on the pavement; ( turns to Giacinta;) and 
 methinks, 
 
 If I not strangely erred — he stammered out 
 
140 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act r. 
 
 Thy name, when urged to own his motive — there ! 
 
 [Gia. totters against a pillar for support. 
 Gia. Such villains ever seek, in their foul deeds, 
 
 To implicate some high and noble name ! 
 
 Guido. Lieutenant ! — two of thy good guard I ask, 
 
 To accompany my steps, and bear the burthen 
 Of the hurt ruffian to this house ! 
 
 Lieut. My prince ! 
 
 These men will follow you — the rest and I, 
 
 Awaiting your return, move not from hence. — 
 
 [Guido and Two Guards Exeunt. 
 Gia. ( aside.) Black ruin stares at me from ev’ry side ! 
 But I am strong and dreadless to the last ! 
 
 Mont. My Eva ! no, not mine, thy place is heaven ! 
 
 And I am of the accursed. 
 
 Eva. Hush ! hush ! — or curse me ! 
 
 Not thy forgiveness, any thing but that ! — 
 
 Strike me ! Oh, strike me dead now at thy feet ! 
 
 If such a miserable wretch can die ! 
 
 Mont. Thou angel of all love and purity, 
 
 Why didst not clear thyself when I accused 
 Thy spotless heart of being Guido’s fee ? 
 
 Eva. I clear myself ! — I pray heap curse on curse ! 
 
 I could not bear thy pardon nor thy blessing ! 
 
 Soh! — Soh ! — the judge, the scaffold — and the grave ! 
 
 The victim, where ? — the monster-murd’ress — who ? — 
 
 Mont. Nay, Eva ! thou hast been thus the unconscious 
 cause, 
 
 The unwilling and the unwitting cause, beloved, 
 
 Of this catastrophe and gloomiest end 
 
 To all my sufferings ! — wilt not smoothe nor soothe 
 
 My path — my perilous passage to the grave ? 
 
 Eva. Oh ! most beloved one — wilt thou slay me now 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 EVA, 
 
 141 
 
 With this thy pardon ? 
 
 Mont. Say such words no more — 
 
 For my last comfort say not such again ! — 
 
 I charge thee by thy love — thy love for me ! 
 
 Nor more reproach thyself — I cannot bear it 1 — 
 
 Thou bright, thou sovereign excellence of virtue ! — 
 
 Thou dove of never-changing gentleness ! — 
 
 Good angels guard thee for their own pure Band — 
 
 And endless blessings strew thy spotless paths, 
 
 And smile around thee everlastingly ! — 
 
 Know’st thou, my Eva ! ’tis in thy sole power 
 To make me go to my most shameful grave 
 With something almost kin to comfort yet : 
 
 Even earthly comfort ; — wilt thou swear to me 
 Thou wilt accede to whatsoe’er I ask ? 
 
 Eva. How can I learn to oppose thee — did I ever ? — 
 Needs it to swear ? — Oh ! Cruel ! — needs it that ? 
 
 Mont. Remember, then, and disappoint me not, 
 
 When I call on thee — Eva ! my beloved ! — 
 
 For I will call on thee — and deeply claim 
 Thy blessed promise, Eva — mine adored. 
 
 Eva. Oh ! those sweet words, like keen-edged swords, they 
 smite ! — 
 
 Rain bitterness once more upon my head — 
 
 Oh ! no ! — thou bidd’st me bear thy dear forgiveness ! — 
 
 And I will gird my soul to endure it thus. 
 
 But ’tis too torturingly delicious — still ! — 
 
 And doth excruciate this unworthy heart 
 
 With too much love’s and too much sorrow’s pangs ! — 
 
 Enter Guido and Della Moria, with the two Guards 
 and the wounded Brigand , Ludovic, and Count 
 Giulio Monzano. 
 
142 EVA. [Act V . 
 
 Giu. ( to Gia.) Woe ! woe ! Giacinta ! I have heard the 
 whole— 
 
 Thy spy, the page, hath told me all, alas !— 
 
 Haste ! — fly with me ere ’tis too late — oh ! come ! — 
 
 Gia. No — urge me not — for I feel rooted here ! 
 
 Besides, they watch me — they suspect : — peace ! — peace ! — 
 Moria. Alas ! — Montalba ! — is it thus with thee ? 
 
 Mont. Hast measured the awful mountain of my guilt ? — 
 Hast fathomed the ebbless tides of my despair ? — 
 
 Moria. Guido hath told me all. — Heaven pardon thee ! — 
 ’Tis horrible ! — ’tis hideous ! — but thou art human ; 
 
 And human passions do begin where fiends 
 Leave off dismayed, and but look on amazed ! — 
 
 And thou’rt about to expiate thy black crime ! 
 
 Heaven’s saints of grace have mercy on thy soul ! 
 
 Giulio. ( to Gia.) I do implore thee, fly ! — nay ! be ad- 
 vised !— 
 
 Gia. But for the hope that all may yet be saved ! — 
 
 Could the blow now be struck — the alarm but given — 
 
 Could I elude their watchful scrutiny ! ( turns to go with 
 Giulio.) 
 
 Flora ( to Gia.) Nay, stay, Giacinta— thou shalt not es- 
 cape ! — 
 
 Guido. Reggio — I pray thee — bind this ruffian’s hurt — 
 Staunch the wide wound — ( to Guards ) — bring water — so ! — 
 ’tis well. 
 
 Gia. ( to Giulio.) Go thou ! — thou’rt not suspected ; — 
 at the least — 
 
 Thou’rt implicated not in this assault. — 
 
 (Alas ! this Ludovic hath all our papers ! — ) 
 
 Thou may’st steal hence, methinks, yet unobserved — 
 
 I fear no hope is left ! — if all is lost, — 
 
 Fly to the frontiers — there remain concealed ; — 
 
Scene /.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 143 
 
 Some chance, — some change may yet befriend — no more ! — 
 No more ! — if thou dost love me — hence ! at once ! — 
 
 [Exit Giulio. 
 
 Guido. Now search the villain ! — 
 
 [Giacinta steals round to where the Brigand is lying. 
 
 Hark ! he strives to speak. 
 
 Ludo. Signiors ! — the countess* 
 
 [ Giacinta springs at him , and grasps him by the throat. 
 Gia. Speak not — or thou diest ! 
 
 Ho ! give them here ! — the papers ! — yield ! or die ! — 
 
 Ludo. ( struggling.) Help ! help ! — unhand me • 
 
 Guido. Do your duty, guards ! — • 
 
 Keep back the lady — search the prisoner — Soh ! 
 
 Lieutenant, take these papers. 
 
 Ludo. It was her — 
 
 The Countess di Castellanaria who 
 Commanded us to seize yourself, my prince ! — 
 
 And the young maid, and bear ye to our dens, 
 
 Far in the mountains, — and to strike and slay, 
 
 If ye resisted — Ho ! I choke, — I faint ! 
 
 And — nay ! I can no more.— Help ! help !— / die ! 
 
 The black blood gushes in such spouting streams ! 
 
 Guido. Giacinta ! — but I sound thy sea of hate ! 
 
 Hate, — born of treacherous and the unworthiest love ! 
 
 Gia. ( turning from him to Ludo.) Aye ! choke and die ! 
 — thou recreant craven ! — die ! 
 
 Thou murder-mongering slave — thou miscreant Judas ! 
 
 Ere from that foul, black blood spring serpent-broods, 
 
 To empoison earth with thy contagious life ! — 
 
 Ludo. Is’t so ? ungrateful and ungracious sorceress ! — 
 
 Yet one word more — she heads these threatened feuds, 
 Whose dark details yon papers will unfold, 
 
 As I conjecture, though I ne’er have op’d them ; 
 
 And since thou spurn’st me in my mortal hour, 
 
144 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Have at thee — thus — though I should die i’the deed! 
 
 [The Brigand raises himself on his elbow , then flings his 
 poniard at her , which she escapes , and overcome with 
 the exertion , he groans and dies. 
 
 Gia. ( aside,) Death art so coy, so chary ! — ’twere ill- 
 missed ! — 
 
 Lieut. This death’s unfortunate — since it had been well 
 He had survived to give more evidence ! — - 
 Signors, these papers do contain, in full, 
 
 Particulars of a most villainous plot 
 
 And foul conspiracy — designed — hatched here — 
 
 Aimed ’gainst the Imperial Austrian Government !— 
 
 Most chiefly in Venetian Lombardy 
 
 With minor plots, and treasonous schemes combined. 
 
 The Countess di Castellanaria’s name 
 Appears conspicuous at the head and front, 
 
 Throughout these revolutionary scrolls. 
 
 Thus in strict custody must she be placed, 
 
 Until such time as shall be further known 
 The pleasure of the Imperial Government ; 
 
 Also of Tuscany — where likewise seems 
 Some outbreak contemplated — and besides 
 Must we advise straight with the authorities 
 O’ the administration of the Sicilies — 
 
 For Naples doth appear inwoven with 
 These projects of rebellion. — Nay, no doubt, 
 
 On further searching through these documents, 
 
 Rome will be found to be not left untouched. 
 
 So widely branching seems this treasonous tree ! 
 
 So thick the ramifications from this root ! 
 
 Flora ( to Guido.) Where is that youthful Frenchman ? — 
 doubtless he 
 
 Was in this plot engaged. 
 
 Guido. But now r I met him, 
 
 t 
 
Scene II] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 145 
 
 Posting with furious flying speed, from Rome, 
 
 Haply upon some secret mission sent. 
 
 Gia. ( to Mont, in a sombre tone.) Hast thou no stone to 
 throw at me ? — ’twere strange ! — 
 
 Mont. Fear not, Giacinta — I will ne’er betray thee ! 
 
 Gia. Thou hast done that enough already — wretch ! 
 
 And driven me to despair’s worst recklessness, 
 
 Goading me on to these stern deeds of ill ! — 
 
 For through the treachery of thy loveless heart 
 My life and soul w r ere made one angry gloom. — 
 
 I built this temple of ambition all, 
 
 From shattered ruins of the shrine of love! — 
 
 Mont. Upbraid me not ! — this scarce should be the hour 
 For vain recriminations and reproach! — 
 
 Gia. All hours for that! — years — time — the eternity ! — 
 Yes! — I’ll upbraid thee as thy conscience should. 
 
 Mont. And doth — could’st know r my pangs thou wert 
 content ! 
 
 Enter De Totjrs and Della Moria, guarded by a Sergeant 
 and several men. 
 
 Serg. Lieutenant! — Seeing suddenly emerge 
 From out this house, (where we w r ell knew your errand,) 
 
 With stealth and fluttered mien, a cloaked-up man, 
 
 Betraying doubt and anxious indecision 
 In every step and gesture, w^e thought good 
 To seize him straightforth, and convey to you ! — 
 
 This youthful stranger too, it seems, let fall 
 Some words exciting wonder and suspicion, 
 
 Last night, among a throng of jovial friends ; 
 
 And being lately seen to leave the city 
 
 In flying haste, was followed, seized, and searched, 
 
 And proved the bearer of seditious papers. 
 
 Lieut. Good ! reach the waitings here. — 
 
 De Tours. Unhand me, friends, 
 
146 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 I wish not, on mine honour, to escape. 
 
 One day ’tis Sun — another day ’tis Storm : 
 
 The true French heart can bear and breast them both ! 
 
 Gia. Brave stranger . f — Shame !^-we are vanquished !— - 
 DeTours. Vanquished! No! — 
 
 ’Tis not a French thought, nor a French word that ! 
 
 We are thus the losers of this day’s light lottery, 
 
 Baulked of our Hope by Circumstance and Chance, 
 
 The unspiritually o’erruling Deities — 
 
 Of all things and events — and — be it so ! 
 
 I pray you, gentlemen ! unhand me — see! 
 
 You have given a most ungraceful set and air 
 To this loose cloak. — You have no Artistic eye ! — 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Anto. Alas! my master! is’t then thus indeed? 
 
 Is there no hope ? — is’t shown — that hideous truth ? — 
 
 Mont. My faithful, good Antonio, hast thou heard; — 
 
 Still shrink’st pot from me shuddering ? — 
 
 Anto. Know, then, know ! 
 
 Beloved master ! that I knew it all— - 
 But kept thy dreadful secret from thyself — 
 
 As all the world— r-I would not have thee dream 
 Thy guilt was bared before mine eyes. — Now, now 
 I have a solemn duty to perform — 
 
 And strictly will discharge it! — I denounce 
 And charge the Countess di Castellanaria — 
 
 As having been — aye ! not the accomplice only — - 
 In this dark deed of death — but more, yet more — 
 
 The originatress and promoter too 
 
 Of that dread crime ! — lord count ! I cannot save , 
 
 But I can show thy sin thus undesigned — 
 
 Thine unpremeditated crime, was more 
 
 From weakness and wild passion’s impulse born. 
 
 Artful suggestion and temptation’s goad, 
 
Scene II. \ 
 
 EVA. 
 
 U7 
 
 Than hardihood of the evil-purposed mind ! — 
 
 I pray ye all give ear to my dark tale. 
 
 Some days before the marriage of the count 
 With Bianca Bellafiore, was to be, 
 
 With circumstance of splendour, solemnized, 
 
 Passing by chance a door closed carelessly, 
 
 I heard the countess parleying with my lord. 
 
 It was a festa— all the household else 
 Were joining them in the out-doors revelry ; — 
 
 I listened — riveted by what I heard : — 
 
 Thus spake the countess to my lord — “ And what! 
 
 Hast ne’er heard of Venetian bracelets — nor 
 
 Of flower- wreathed bowls, with costly draughts within , — 
 
 A pearl than Cleopatra’s gem more rich, 
 
 A pearl that Cleopatra ne’er possessed, — 
 
 (Not till the asp dived for’t in her blue heart-veins ! — ) 
 Dissolved in the all-inestimable draught ! 
 
 This — shall the reveller, and ere long, endow 
 With peace eternal and the sweetest sleep — 
 
 Suffering, shame, sorrow, ne’er shall harm him more ! — 
 Exemption this shall bring from all the earth’s woes,— 
 And purchase blessings — ev’n from enemies ! — 
 
 All men’s good words and praises — since all Men 
 Abuse the Living — but admire — the Dead!” 
 
 Guido. Cold-hearted murderess — if not such in act, 
 
 In thought and in intent — Oh ! horrible! — 
 
 (Aside.) Was this the soul I thought athirst, — on fire, 
 
 For Freedom — glorious Freedom ? — sevenfold shame, 
 Thus to disgrace with guilt’s unsanctioned soul 
 The cause that Angels and the Archangels hail ! 
 
 Anto. The count abruptly turned and left her then, 
 Rendering not answer to these horrid words. 
 
 It chanced that at that crisis I was called 
 From Florence to Verona hastily, 
 
 W'here mine ag’d mother on her death-bed lay ; — 
 
i 48 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act 
 
 My thoughts were in her sufferings all absorbed. 
 
 When I returned to Florence I first heard 
 The affianced bride had suddenly been seized 
 By a most fearful illness — and had died ! — 
 
 Then I bethought me of that ghastly speech, 
 
 But breathed to none these dire suspicions — none — 
 
 Lest my dear master haply might be wronged. 
 
 ’Twas some time after, that, in deep discourse, 
 
 I marked the countess and my lord once more. 
 
 And felt resistlessly constrained to listen — 
 
 Deeming it touched on that sad mystery. 
 
 With vehement, sharp reproaches she assailed — 
 Upbraided him with keen and cutting taunts — - 
 “ Didst thou not ever show thy lack of love, 
 
 If to no other eyes — at least — to mine ? 
 
 How wert thou wont to heave heart-breaking sighs, 
 Choosing me ever for thy confidante ! ” 
 
 “ Alas ! Giacinta ! — must I — must I wed ?” 
 
 Could I interpret this into aught else 
 
 But hate of her through growing love for me ? — 
 
 And now forsooth — thy horror — thy remorse — 
 
 Conscience and conscience — faugh ! — that sickening prate 
 
 Guido. And I could think this creature starry bright ? 
 
 Ant. Then thus, my lord: — “But thou didst urge the deed 
 Nay ! laid the dread temptation in my way. 
 
 Showing the deathly poison that thou said’st 
 Thou ever borest about thee — lest some shock 
 Of sorrow should make life become a load 
 Intolerably heavy — haunted still 
 With some strange superstition of suspicions ; 
 
 And when thou heard’st Bianca’s gentlest steps, 
 
 Didst hurrying leave me with that mortal bane. — 
 
 There, there — at hand — to try me — tempt me — there! ” 
 This I most solemnly attest — and charge 
 The Countess di Castellanaria thus. A 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 147 * 
 
 Eva. Oh ! my Montalba ! half thy guilt is gone. 
 
 Gia. May the foul fiends yet double it and treble, 
 
 With wicked thoughts worse prompting thee — till death. — 
 De Tours. Lady ! look up ! I nothing see, I own, 
 
 That doth condemn thee much, or criminate ! — 
 
 The stars were wrong perchance, but thou wert right ! 
 Extenuating Circumstances clear thee, — 
 
 In my sight clear thee utterly of guilt l 
 
 The charming young Bianca could not please 
 
 Her destined lord — his honour did oppose 
 
 All breach of faith — ’twere best that she should die, — 
 
 Best for all parties ; — for herself ’twas nought, — 
 
 She fell asleep in Beauty, Youth, and Hope ; 
 
 Her life— one Rose ! whose leaves — Love’s precious blushes, 
 Fell in their fragrance — fell in all their freshness, 
 
 By thy hand shaken from the stalk at once, 
 
 Uncankered and un withered — this was well !— 
 
 Then for the count a generous deed thou didst, 
 
 His life had else been sacrificed to sorrow ; 
 
 He would have grown morose, austere, cold, formal, 
 Wrinkled before his time, and bent and yellow ; 
 
 For discontent is evermore a foe 
 Both to the constitution and complexion. 
 
 Thyself, sweet lady, loved ! — and felt of course 
 Constrained to do thyself such act of justice ; 
 
 In short, the affair was unavoidable. 
 
 Full oft have I remarked — through life indeed — 
 
 That the most wicked acts have generally 
 The very worthiest motives; — did we thus 
 Sift to the bottom all our neighbours’ deeds, 
 
 We should assuredly discover still 
 
 That crimes — so called — are almost always virtues ; — 
 
 Murderers have mostly philanthropic motives ; 
 
 Thefts are oft done with excellent intentions — 
 
*148 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 And so on through the catalogue of crime ! 
 
 I doubt what some one said of madness late, 
 
 That ’twas the £tme were shut up — the insane loose, 
 
 Would hold to the innocent and guilty too, — 
 
 That is, to the unaccused, and to the arraigned ! — 
 
 The miscalled criminals are the ornaments 
 To human nature, and should leave their cells 
 To the occupation of the imagined virtuous! — 
 
 Lieut. Bear the male prisoners hence ! disarmed and 
 handcuffed. 
 
 De Tours. What ! Sir ! — allow me ! I can suffer not 
 This vile indignity! — Farewell ! Messieurs ! — 
 
 My destiny’s accomplished, that I feel. — 
 
 For Glory — Honour — Freedom — Fame — France — this ! 
 
 [Shoots himself . 
 
 Gia. Young fervent, fiery spirit ! — art thou flown ? — 
 Away ! — the die is cast — the game is up ! — 
 
 Well! — I have lost! — I stood the chance ! — and stand — 
 This, the adverse issue ! — as unshrinkingly ! — 
 
 My heart’s one adamant — my soul’s all ice — 
 
 And this rich sweetness of revenge — at least 
 Flatters my lips in this black cup of death ! — 
 
 Mont. Shame ! — shame ! — Giacinta ! — but thou rav’st. 
 (To Della Moria.) My friend! 
 
 I fain would speak some few last words with thee ! 
 
 Gia. The ashes of ruin are not bitter all, 
 
 Touched with the ambrosial taste of that revenge. 
 
 Stand up — thou tottering — faultering trembler ! — there — 
 Thou death-struck Eva ! — let me see thy face ! — 
 
 So ! it was thou that charmed him from my side — 
 
 And I have gently led thee by the hand ; 
 
 Taught thee and trained thee to my purposes, 
 
 Till thou’st erected for thy much-loved lord — 
 
 Erected part by part — and piece by^iece, 
 
Scene //.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 149 
 
 With skill and tender care and watchful zeal, 
 
 The scaffold of his shame-embittered death ! 
 
 Nor wert thou happy in the officious work. 
 
 I revelled in thine agonies of soul, 
 
 When thou wert mourning o’er Montalba mad ! 
 
 And could’st believe I thought the same as thee ? — • 
 
 Poor fool ! much, much too easy prey — scarce worth 
 
 The trouble of this torturing ; — yet I die 
 
 The happier that I leave thee wretched here ! — 
 
 Though scarcely can I hate thee as I would ! 
 
 Thou chill, insipid image — cut in clay ! 
 
 Flora. Such happiness outmeasures our vast woe 
 With withering throes of cankered bitterness ! 
 
 Gia. Great — glorious scheme ! — and borne through glori- 
 ously ! — 
 
 To make the adoring wife the unconscious means 
 Of bringing ruin, shame — and such a death — 
 
 And worse than such a death — a Memory slain — 
 
 On her lost husband’s head ! — 
 
 Eva. Oh ! murder me ! — 
 
 As thou didst Bianca! — murder me ! — stab home ! — 
 
 But strike! — strike home! — strike heart-deep! — and at 
 once ! — 
 
 Mont, (to Gia.) Silence, Giacinta! — check thine impious 
 tongue ! 
 
 Lest Heaven should smite thee dead with angry thunder! 
 
 Gia. Let heaven rain thunderbolts upon me ! — see ! 
 
 They fall not — Ho ! — (snatches the poniard from the floor.) 
 
 I will forestall them thus ! [Stabs herself and dies. 
 Mont. Delivered from a demon thus seems the earth ! 
 Guido. And can that life’s tempestuousness lie hushed ? — 
 Be mercy showered on her — she never showed ! — 
 
 Mont. ( to Eva.) My pitying angel of forgiveness ! — now, 
 
150 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 E’en now I claim thy solemn promise : — hear ! 
 
 First know, I make compliance with my will — 
 
 Of my forgiveness the one great condition ! 
 
 Eva. Thou knowest compliance must anticipate 
 Thine every hinted wish ! — 
 
 [Montalba takes her hand and joins it with Della Moria's. 
 
 Mont. Thus-— then ! — not so ! — 
 
 Nay ! start not back, with that bewildered look 
 Of eloquent anguish ! — Promise me, even now 
 Promise me thou wilt one day be his bride ! 
 
 He doth comply — wilt thou resist and brave me ? 
 
 Eva. Oh ! thou canst never mean it ! — 
 
 Mont. Solemnly !— 
 
 And wish it fervently ! — Consent at once — 
 
 Consent to these espousals ! — or once more 
 Will I withdraw my pardon — once more launch 
 My curse against thee. — Dearest 1 for my sake 
 I pray thee — do implore thee — by thy love ! — 
 
 What ! — shall I go to mine untimely grave — 
 
 My deep, dishonoured, foul and blood-stained grave, 
 
 With this most crushing thought upon my soul — 
 
 Both have I blighted, ruined, murdered both ! — 
 
 Bianca and Eva \—both destroyed — undone — 
 
 Murdered the one i’ the body — but yet worse — 
 
 The other in the soul — whose peace I wrecked — 
 
 Whose hopes I crushed — whose life I made all death ! — 
 
 Eva. (wildly JAlas ! alas ! — what heard I ! — what is this ? — 
 Dread altar for the espousals of the wretched — 
 
 Dark temple for the marriage -rites — thy grave — 
 
 Wreathe the poor victim for the sacrifice 
 With funeral fitness — 
 
 Mont. Silence ! — hear me out — 
 
 If thou hast e’er loved me thou’lt love him too ! — 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 151 
 
 If tliou dost love me now thou’lt try to love him ; 
 
 If thou wilt love my memory — thou must love him ! — 
 
 He is my very self of happier days ! — 
 
 He is my nobler self — when innocence 
 
 Was white at my young soul, my nature seemed 
 
 Glassed in the clear, pure waters of his being ! — 
 
 The chrystal there yet gleams in every wave, 
 
 My billowy soul heaves thrice incarnadined — 
 
 Give me the promise ! — give it me at once ! 
 
 Moria. Nay, hush, my friend — ’tis more than she can bear ! 
 Mont. Wilt thou not smoothe my passage to the grave ? 
 Eva ! I told thee still ’twas in thy power 
 To pour one drop of comfort in my cup ! — 
 
 And thou refusest me ! — then all my soul 
 Shall go remorseless to the abyss of ruin ! — 
 
 Eva. Talk not so wildly ! — take my hand ! — ’tis thine, 
 Thine own ! — do with it as thou wilt — but bless me ! 
 
 Mont. My heavenly Love ! the sharpness of this death— 
 The bitterness of this abhorrent doom 
 I can smile from me now ! — can wave away ! — 
 
 Submit in silence, and in peace expire ! — 
 
 My noble, noblest friend — yes ! he is all 
 That yet should make thy final happiness ! — 
 
 Aye ; he is all, and more than all that makes 
 
 Nobility without its title ! — still 
 
 He hath, with lineage high as his own heart — 
 
 All worldly circumstance of honour too — 
 
 All worldly gift, and grace, state, power and wealth ! — 
 
 Eva. Oh ! speak not of this world — ’tis all one waste !— 
 Mont. Eva ! If e’er thou lov’dst me — then , Oh ! then 
 I charge thee love him ! and in him love me ! 
 
 He is my second loftier self ! — I knew 
 I was inferior ever in the gifts 
 
152 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [ Act V. 
 
 Of mind and intellect — but heart to heart 
 We felt — we fevered — in life’s holier days — 
 
 For all things high and true and bright and pure !— 
 
 Love me an hundred fold yet more in him ! 
 
 At least — give me this promise — I beseech, 
 
 That thou for my sake, sweet, wilt try to love — 
 
 Then still, for my sake, yield thy hand — as heart ! — 
 
 Eva. Alas ! do with me what thou wilt — thine own ! 
 Mont. Now I am happier than I e’er have been 
 Since that tremendous hour ! — yet my poor father ! — 
 
 Thou only ! — but away with these vain thoughts — 
 
 Enough ! — I will not now unman myself! 
 
 My happiness before was worst despair. 
 
 If e’er I dreamed of joy I felt ’twas false — 
 
 Myself and madness knew ’twas mockery all ! — 
 
 And jarred it into misery; for remorse, 
 
 Fevering the o’erboiling fountains of the soul, 
 
 Makes the dread madness of the raging heart ! — 
 
 Enter Anselmo, the Friar. 
 
 Anselmo. Most true, my son! but raise thine eyes to 
 Heaven I 
 
 Let madness of remorse become now changed 
 To grace of sweet repentance’ healing power ! 
 
 Thou hast ta’en steps thy peace with Heav’n to make; 
 
 Thou hast full lately with zeal’s fervour made 
 
 Some reparation ! — dedicating half 
 
 Of thy vast fortune to the Church’s good ! — 
 
 ’Twas a most saintly, true munificence ! — 
 
 Now without murmuring meet thy chastisement, 
 
 And go in penitence — to sleep in peace. — 
 
 Still at thy side, till thy last mortal hour, 
 
 Will I be found to administer, as due, 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 EVA. 
 
 153 
 
 All consolations for thy suffering spirit ! — 
 
 And, lo ! in the offices of piety, 
 
 In the exercise of solemn duties thus — 
 
 E’en in thy dungeon thou shalt glimpse more joy 
 Than e’er thou triedst to think thine own, ere yet 
 This dread disclosure of thy crime was made, 
 
 And dead remorse grew waken’d, warm’d — raised — kindled, 
 By full confession, to a live repentance ! — 
 
 Mont. Father ! thou’rt right ! — my soul’s dark gates 
 unlocked — 
 
 I feel that all the Christian flows again ! — 
 
 Crime cannot know a joy — nor snatch a hope! — 
 
 Nor feed on peace — nor lull itself in trust ! — 
 
 Sin in triumphal pomp of glorying state, 
 
 Might unopposed and uncondemned, ascend 
 The Throne of the orb-throng’d Universes all, 
 
 And so be trebly tortured, since self -cursed !— 
 
 Eva! — yet mine one moment ! — to my soul] 
 
 [She springs forward , and falls heavily at his feet. 
 Flora. She faints! — she falls!— Oh ! Saints in Heaven! — 
 she dies! — 
 
 The blood is flowing from her lips ! — Woe ! — woe ! — 
 
 Some artery sure in the o'erwrung frame hath burst ! 
 
 Mont. Oh ! God !— what dreadful change is this ! — 
 look up t 
 
 What ! — blood! — I did not shed it ! — I am crushed ! — 
 
 Eva l—^my Eva ! — Mine ! — Awake ! — return ! — 
 
 Mine all !— mine only ! — mine — for evermore ! 
 
 Gui. Thou lovely sufferer ! — all thy pains are past ! 
 
 Mont. Return ! — awake ! — Oh, Eva ! — nay ! — s© best ! 
 Thee sorrow never more shall wring and wound ! 
 
 Thy woes are past — all, all thy woes are o’er ! 
 
154 
 
 EVA. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Guido ! I thank thee for that thought — that thought — 
 Eva in Heaven ! — thou Sainted One and saved — 
 
 Thou Angel among Angels ! — plead for me 
 Plead for the Sinner ! — for the Mourner plead — 
 
 Thou — the Innocent — the Ill-fated One ! — on Earth ! 
 Thou more than Bless’d and Bright and Free — above ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Joseph Rickerby, Printer, Sher bourn Lane.