Chapter 7

Room in the Palace. Enter BLASCO.BLASCO.I have sucked this Ferdinand. Duke Philip bearsSecret despatches sealed, not to be brokenSave on emergency; from which I gatherThat if emergency arise, this PhilipWill be our viceroy. Palicio being escapedMust make the emergency.—Then, where am I?560Packed off to Spain with Hugo’s broken service,To answer his impeachment. ’Tis high timeI cast by these old friends, such as they are,And turn my face to the rising sun, this Philip.I see the way too. Manuel’s love for ConstanceHath roused again his former love for herTo a burning jealousy; if I feed thatI win his ear, and make my foe his foe.As for Palicio, should he hold backI have a way with him, and can contrive570He shall seize Hugo, or himself be seized,As may suit best. The mischief set on foot,Philip must break his seals; and I come inWith him as friendly to the people’s rights,And trusted servant of the crown. By heav’n,I shall deserve their credit. See, here he comes.Enter Philip.Good morrow to your grace.PHILIP.Good morrow, Blasco.Bl.I served thy father well.Ph.I know it, Blasco.What of it now?Bl.I do not urge my serviceLooking for recompense; I do not ask580So much as that your grace remember meAt court, to mention my forgotten nameIn the new king’s ear; as, When I was in SicilyI saw old Blasco; nay, ’twas for good-willI served, and now ’tis that I want a masterWhich bids me speak. If but your grace could find meEmployment worth my wits, I would serve well.Ph.I’ll think of it.Bl.Let your grace know my lifeSpent in this court should make my loyaltyMore than a counsellor. In this rebellion590I know where Hugo fails, where Manuel leans;Could blow upon the flame or snuff it out,Could bring you to the leaders.Ph.Honest Blasco,Thou know’st the world.Bl.I know that one who comesTo make peace in a quarrel that he knows not,Needs other knowledge than he is like to getFrom either party. The strings of policyAre coiled in private chambers; if your graceWould pull at these ...Ph.True. If thou serve me thusI’ll take instruction.Bl.Let your grace now prove meIn any question.600Ph.This, then. We in SpainSupposed that your revolt stood on two legs,Over-taxation and the hate of Hugo;And had its claim for justice countenancedBy Manuel’s voice: but coming here, I findThat he and Hugo’s daughter are betrothed.Now here’s a private matter, which, I take it,Involves the public. Say, doth Manuel playHis policy on Hugo, or hath HugoTrumped up a match with Manuel to supportHis failing credit?Bl.They are not betrothed, your grace.611What passes between lovers is unknown:But this is sure, Hugo withholds consent,And doth so to win Manuel to his side.Ph.Doth not that win him?Bl.Nay.Ph.Then I concludeHe loves not.Bl.Nay, indeed; it gives me painTo witness his indifference; for the ladyDeserves the best.Ph.Stay, count. RememberIn what has passed that word may well blame me.Bl.I hearken not to idle tales. Your grace620May be punctilious; but in Manuel’s instanceThere’s no excuse.Ph.I care not what men say.And now it hurts me more to hear thee blameAnother for the fault I stumbled in,Than if ’twas said of me. I need thy knowledge.Look, thou canst serve me; and I let none serveFor nothing. Take my purse (gives it); thou mayst have needTo spend so much for me.Bl.I thank your grace.I shun no obligation, and I am poor.Ph.True, all men are so. Come now to my chamber,Where we may talk in private.630Bl.(aside).’Tis well begun.[Exeunt.SCENE · 3A room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO reclining on a long chair half-dressed. Daylight nearly excluded: one candle burns.PALICIO.I seem to have lived a life in these few days;To have died, and waked in no less strange a place,Than where I think departed spirits will flyIn doom of death and unendurable silenceAfter their day of doing. Oh! ’tis strangeWhat just the shedding a few drops of bloodWill bring about—to loosen a handkerchief,And on her undiscoverable journeyThe soul sets forth. Nay, but to bleed so far640As I have done, breeds fancies much akinTo death; else would my spirit more revolt’Gainst this enforcèd quiet and idleness:This blocking of my life just on the stirAnd hurry of hope, when all my operationsPressed to success. I am surely very weak,That I can lie and fret not, when I hearThe distant cries, passing from street to street,Which tell how prompt and ripe my people wereFor this their lost occasion. (Knocking heard.) Some one knocks.Nay, the key turns. ’Tis Manuel.MARGARET(at door).650May I come in?Pal.(aside). Ah! who is this? Who’s there?[Covering himself.Mar.(entering).’Tis only I,Manuël’s sister. I have come to seeIf I can do you any service, lady.Pal.He did not send you?Mar.Nay, but I may hopeI shall not seem to intrude, thus waiting on you.Pal.(aside). What’s to be done?Mar.The room is dark. I fear you are ill.Pal.I am hurt and must not stir.Mar.Then lying hereIn pain you must want help and company.’Tis well I came. May I draw back the curtains?660Pal.Nay, there was reason, madam, why your brotherShut door and window: I have enemies.Mar.Alas, alas!I can shew equal care. First to relock the door.(Aside, going to door.) She is a lady.Pal.(aside).’Tis the famous Margaret.Mar.Now let me light these candles.[Stage brightens.Pal.(aside). Surely in God’s paradise, that rest of souls,His angels and pure spirits look and speakAnd move like this. O wonder! Wherefore comes she?And how to keep her but a moment longer670From the discovery? and how to tell her?Mar.Now while I sit.[Finds gown on the chair.... Why, oh! ’tis drenched with blood,Your gown. Are you so hurt?Pal.A sword-thrust, lady.Mar.A sword-thrust. Ah!Pal.Thou earnest unadvised,Lady: I wore the gown; if that deceived thee.Yet ’twas but a disguise to save my life.I am Palicio.Mar.Sir!Pal.Escaped from prisonAnd my pursuers hither. Thy brother’s kindnessHides me from death awhile.Mar.I pray thy pardon.’Twas not mere idle curiosity680That made my fault; but made I’ll mend it, sir,As soon as may be.[Going.Pal.(springing up). Stay, nay, put down that key.I bid thee stay. Thou hast forced my secret. HearThe whole, and when thou hast heard I shall not fearThe unlocking of thy lips.Mar.Why, sir, the thingMy brother means to hide is hidden to me.Pal.’Tis not alone my life ...Mar.Ah! see the blood is trickling down thy hand!Pal.Pest! it hath started freshly.Mar.Cannot I help thee?Pal.Ay, ’tis the bandage on this arm.Mar.To tie it?Pal.My moving hath displaced it.690Mar.See, alas!The ill I have done. Sit, I will bind it for thee.Pal.Myself I cannot.Mar.Nay. Tell thou me how.Pal.Here, round this pad. As tightly as thou wilt.Nay, tighter yet.Mar.Shall I not harm thee?Pal.Tighter.Mar.I cannot pull it tighter.Pal.Knot it so.’Twill do: the blood hath ceased.Mar.Oh, I am glad.Do not thou stir: see, now, to wash thine arm,I’ll bring thee water.[Goes for it.Pal.(aside).By heaven, where have I lived,Like a wild beast beneath the open skies,700In dens and caves, and never known the tasteOf this soft ravishment? The rich of the earthAre right: their bars and bolts are wisely wrought,Having such treasure in their closed chambers.Mar.Here ’tis. Reach forth thine arm.Pal.Nay, give’t to me.Stain not thy hands.Mar.I pray thee.Pal.As thou wilt.Mar.How did it happen?Pal.Wouldst thou hear it?Mar.Tell me.Pal.I had been two days in prison ...Mar.Tell me, first,How could they catch thee?Pal.Treachery: I was takenBy Hugo’s soldiers as I knelt at mass.710Three stole behind me, seized me by the arms,And dragged me forth. I knew I was betrayed;I had entered but that morning in the town;I was not known to them, nor did the hirelingsLook on my face. They led me straight to prison,Thrust me in a cell so dank and dark and small,That to be built alive into the graveWere not more horrible.Mar.Hugo would have killed thee.Pal.Or let me starve; or else some gentle mercy;Gouged my live eyeballs out, or lopped my hands.Mar.How couldst thou ’scape?Pal.Now thou wilt see our people721Have their account. The second night my gaolerBrought in a woman with a deed to sign.I knew my hope, and to her feigned reproachAnswered in anger back: but when she badeI took the deed, and felt beneath the paperA dagger’s edge. That was my key to heaven,Could I strike silently. To make occasion,I thrust her from me with an oath: she fell,As well she knew, against the foe, who stooping,730Stooped to his death and fell without a groan.Then quick she doffed her gown for my disguise,Telling me in few words how this was plannedBy friends who had seen me taken: they had not meansFor present rescue, but discovering soonWho had betrayed me, used his cursed nameWith the governour of the prison, to admitHer, his pretended wife, that she might claimSettlement of some debt before I died.So was it paid. Then we went forth together,740I in her woman’s garments, following her,Who wore the habit of the soldier slain:And she went clear: but I, for some suspicionWas questioned at the gate. Of those two men,One I slew straight: the other, as I struck,Thrust thro’ my arm, yet not so hurtfullyBut that he fell for it too. But thence alarmWas given: I fled pursued, and gat me clear,Leaping your garden wall.Mar.Who was the woman?Pal.One of our people.Mar.May her name be told?Pal.I never heard it.750Mar.Yet she knew thee well.I had been proud to have done her deed. I thinkThere are not many men as brave as she.Pal.O, lady, there are many, women and men,Sworn to risk life in our good cause.Mar.Alas,That such fine courage should be so misled!Pal.Misled? how, if I lead it?Mar.I had forgot.Pardon me, sir. It was my brother’s word.Pal.Ay, ’tis his word. And yet I honour Manuel.Were’t not for him there scarce would be a man760Of all our people who would reverenceJustice and order, and those other namesOf social welfare. ’Tis to him aloneWe have looked to give us these. But if he standWhere he can take our tyrants by the armAnd show them baits of righteousness, and lead themWhere they should go, shall we who lie beneathForbear to sting the laggard heel of justice,Or think it crime to obstruct the path of wrong?I blame not him that from his higher place770He finds offence in outcry and disorder:To such as without loss or shame outrideThe storms of shifting fortune this is easy.Mar.What dost thou but exasperate ill-will?Pal.Already our bread has been untaxed two days.Mar.And may be two days more.Pal.I have better hope,Or had: for if I had once provoked the SpaniardTo set his troops against us, all the nobles,Who now retired hold neutral parliament,Would then have joined the people, and compelled780The justice of our claim by force of arms.Mar.All, say’st thou?Pal.All save one or two, who are boughtWith Hugo’s money.Mar.Say’st thou bought?Pal.O lady,Unto their great dishonour they are bought,With sweated pence wrung from the labourer,Ere he can buy a loaf to feed his childrenOut of the corn his hands have sown and reaped.Is not this shame?Mar.’Tis shame.Pal.And shall PalicioSee this thing done, because he hath not office,Or those few paltry florins, which might turnThe scale for poor Sicilians?790Mar.Ah, indeed,I knew, I felt that thou wert right; and nowI see it: I never blamed thee.Pal.No, nor ManuelBlames me at heart, tho’ he forbid my means.Think, had I kept my old estate, and heHad fallen as I, should I not do as he,And he as I am doing?Mar.Oh, I think’Tis nobler to be poor. To share the sufferingOf them we pity ranks above redress.I am come to envy thee.Pal.And certain it is,800They who have least to lose will venture most.Mar.Yet those that have can give. What’s the best hopeOf this rebellion?Pal.We would make thy brotherViceroy in place of Hugo.Mar.Will that be?Pal.Here I know nothing, save that nought is done.Mar.Is there no leader then but thee?Pal.The peopleAre limbs without a head.Mar.When will thy woundBe healed?Pal.Thy brother says that any surgeonCould mend it quickly, but that his own skill,Which knows the injury, was never practised810To find out and to bind the wounded vessel,Which, being unhelped of art, may run to death.Mar.To death! And hath he sent no surgeon?Pal.Nay,That were the greater risk for him and me.Mar.Not so, if he could cure thee. I shall bring one.[As going.Pal.It cannot be.Mar.Thou mayst believe there’s noneIn all Palermo but myself could do it:Yet can I do it.Pal.Speak with Manuel first.Mar.Oh! I shall tell him all. He will consent.’Tis well I came. No surgeon for thee! Ah!I go.Pal.Thou wilt return?820Mar.Be sure, be sure.And with the leech.[Exit.Pal.She is gone.[Scene shuts across.SCENE · 4In Manuel’s house. MARGARET and MANUEL meeting.MARGARET.Brother, what wilt thou say? Wilt thou forgive me?Hear me confess.MANUEL.What now, my mischief-maker?Mar.I have seen Palicio.Man.Hey! ’twas thy evil geniusLed thee that way.Mar.I thinking him a woman,Offered some service: whereupon he told meWho he was, all his story, and of his wound.Man.I am sorry; I should have warned thee, for the knowledgeMakes thee so far accomplice; and I know notHow ’twill be taken when ’tis known.830Mar.O, brother,Thou hast done nobly.Man.I will tell to theeMy motives.Mar.Nay, I need no motives.Man.Hear them.Palicio’s life is forfeit, for he has killedThree of his guards: but to the dangerous deedHe had provocation, such as I should holdClears him of crime: wherefore I take upon meTo force a loan of Justice while she sleeps,For fear a thief should rob her: to this, moreover,The claim of kinship binds me,—nay, be patient,840And hear me out.—Already our disordersHave been reported at the Spanish court;The enquiry set on foot will much endamageHugo’s good name: I doubt not we shall haveAnother viceroy, and the revolutionWill justify the movers.Mar.Oh! all that,Be as it may, will never cure his wound.He needs a surgeon: we must find a surgeon.Man.No: he must lie concealed till I procureHis pardon. His discovery now were death.Mar.But if I bring one secretly?850Man.How secretly?Better cry down the streets the man is here:That might escape attention.Mar.I know a man.Have I not sometimes shewn thee certain sonnetsWrit in Sicilian speech?Man.Eh! Michael Rosso?Mar.’Tis he. I think he’d love to do my biddingIn a more dangerous matter. Give me leave,I’ll bring him here to-night.Man.I had thought of him,But shrank from taxing his good-will. And yet—(Aside.) For his own sake ’twere kind ... and Margaret asks it ...860Secrets, they say, discover sympathies.—(Aloud.) Ay, ’tis well thought of.Mar.I can answer for him.Man.I see. Yet there’s no cause why he should know.Escort him blindfold hither; let PalicioHave his face covered. Let him ask no questions:And when ’tis done convey him blindfold back.’Twere best he should not know.Mar.O, brother, I thank thee.Man.Why, girl, thou’rt crazed.Mar.May I not go at once?Man.Nay, wait till dusk; and see, take here my seal,Since thou must go alone: ’twill be thy freedom870From any questionings of any people.Use all precautions, and impose on RossoSacredest secrecy: ’tis thou and heMust carry it thro’. Be careful.Mar.I will put onSome common clothing, and disguise my face.I thank thee.[Exit.Man.The girl’s in love. Now, bravo Rosso!I wish thee well. There’s not a purer spiritFleshed in all Sicily; nay, nor a manI’d sooner call brother. Why, ’twas my choice,Long urged in vain. That chanceth in an hour880Which comes not in nine years. ’Tis very true,Fancy resents all judgment, and another’sWill often kill it quite. Now, when I lookedRather for anything than my own wish,—heigh-ho!’Tis I that stand in the way. I must discourage it.Enter Philip(with some papers).Ah, Philip.PHILIP.Let me give you back the papers.I have read them.Man.Well?Ph.The viceroy’s guilt is plain.Your purpose cannot be to press this count.Man.If the complaints, which I have already made,Be quashed at court, I shall.Ph.’Tis peculation890So gross, ’twould ruin Hugo to expose it.Wished you to break with him,—yet his disgraceCannot be nothing to you: I should marvelYou had no associations, no affections,Shocked at the thought.Man.To interests manifoldAs manifest, Justice is blind. If SpainRemove not Hugo on the charges laid,I have shewn thee what’s to follow. Would you avert it,Press his dismissal. I must to the palace.Guard thou the papers for me till I am back.[Exit.Ph.These papers are conviction. Blasco is right:901He loves not. That is clear; for he would ruinHer father. Then again my rivalryAvowed,—ay, if he had an ear, avowed,—He doth not see. So cold, how could he win her?Or wish to win her? She is mine.—And yet I would’Twere any man but Manuel. Ah! who comes?’Tis she. Now may I prove her.Enter Constance with Servant.CONSTANCE(to servt.).If she be not within, prithee enquire909Where she is gone. I will await thee here.[Exit servt.I have been most foolish. (Seeing Philip.) Philip!Ph.Yes, ’tis I.Constance.Con.What wouldst thou?Ph.(kneeling).I entreat a favour,Which is to me the one boon in the world.Con.Rise, sir, what is’t?Ph.That I may speak, nor leaveLove’s wound unhealed.Con.’Twere well to seal forgiveness,Companion of forgetfulness. Say, therefore.The few words that are due.Ph.Tho’ I repent,Repentance cannot own forgetfulness.It pleads forgiveness in the name of love.Con.How in that name?Ph.Constance, I love thee still.Con.Sir!920Ph.Oh! ’tis true ...Reproach me not, Constance: my evil lifeI have quite renounced. I used it but to learnThe wisdom of that other. I come backFrom folly and idleness and evil days.Whate’er hath been, Constance, I have not left thee:There hath been nothing near thee, nothing like thee,Nothing but thee: and I return to find theeMore beautiful than ever ...Con.Pray you, sir,Remember.Ph.Let me speak.Con.When thou didst ask to speak,I looked for that one word, which thou in honour931Wert, to amend thy silence, bound to speak.’Twas in thy power to salve thy breach of faithWith full and free renouncement. Thine earlier illI had then forgiven: for if thou art not changed,Philip, I am: then I was ignorant—Maybe we both were—both mistook; but thouDidst add an injury, and to-day thou addestAnother worse. Knowing me now betrothed,How canst thou offer to renew thy love?940Ph.O, Constance, Manuel doth not, cannot, love theeAs I.Con.I pray he doth not.Ph.Hear me, Constance!Con.Nay, sir; no more.[Exit.Ph.My passion hath arousedPassion in her; and that must work for me.Is it likely such a temper would sit downAnd eat cold fare at Manuel’s feast of reason?She will be mine. Ay, tho’ she said betrothed—Once ’twas to me. So now to see her father;He’s but a market where I rule with ease.The papers! By heav’n, I had left them lying![Stoops.Ha!Blood! blood upon the floor! I have knelt in blood—951Here were an omen, were I superstitious.—And scarcely dry. This city hath fallen accurst.There is nothing spoke of ... Ah! but what if thisShould be the track they seek? PalicioTook shelter here! Impossible. Even BlascoThought not so ill of Manuel. Yet the otherUnder the wall, and this within the house ...They tally. Peace! I will go search the garden.[Exit.SCENE · 5Room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO as before (sitting).PALICIO.To stand true to a cause because ’tis noble,960Tho’ it be thankless; to command a peopleAgainst a tyranny, and teach their armsTo enforce the reasonable rights of life,Beneath the crushing bond of wealth and power;—To be an outcast, but to leave a nameUntarnished and beloved, remembered long;—That was my choice, my hope. Can I now waver?Shall I—having so well begun—Step up into a throne above the throng,And smiling on them from the hated height,970Take life at ease? Nay, when ’tis reasoned so,’Tis hideous.—But, oh! thou treacherous enemy,Thou selfish and unanswerable passion,That bluntest resolution, and criest downThe voice of virtue! Margaret, Margaret!Would I had never seen thee, or believedI could not win thee. If I now could fly,I might go free.Squarcialupu, who has appeared at the window, gradually thrusting his head between the curtains, and peering round, enters.SQUARCIALUPU.Sq.Captain!Pal.Ha! Squarcialupu!Why, what! how com’st thou here? what dost thou?Sq.Hush!Pal.Begone, I pray.Sq.Nay, now I have found thee, captain.Thine arm is it only?Pal.A prick in the arm.980Sq.So, so!Then thou canst come.Pal.Tell me, how didst thou learnThat I was here?Sq.We guessed it from thy track.Pal.O, God! I’m tracked?Sq.Thy blood is on the wall.I undertook to tell thee. In the duskI scaled this window at the back of the house:Had my old luck, captain. Make haste and fly.Pal.Stay, stay! I cannot. Is it known to anyI am hiding here?Sq.What use to stay for that?Come ere they know it.Pal.I cannot.990Sq.I can help thee.Pal.Nay, ’tis not that, altho’ I am bled to death.’Tis honour holds me.Sq.Honour will not helpManuel nor thee, if they should search his house.But if thou fliest ...Pal.I may not.Sq.That’s no wordWhere life’s at stake. What shall I tell thy men?Pal.Where are they?Sq.At the news of thy escapeThey gathered on the hills, and wait thee there.I met a man in the town an hour ago,Who said he had seen thee riding on the road1000To Monreale. All the folk’s astir.Pal.I cannot come.Sq.Give me not such a word.Who would believe I had seen thee, if I saidPalicio lieth safe in Manuel’s house,And saith he cannot come?Pal.Begone, I bid thee,Lest thou be found here.Sq.Nay, I’ll not be gone.’Tis but some twenty feet: I’ll lift thee down.The street is watched.Pal.Hark, Squarcialupu, tell me;Is’t true I’m tracked?Sq.’Tis certain.Pal.Then I thinkIf Manuel knew of this ... Hark, I will come.1010Go thou and tell my men that I will come.To-morrow morning let them look to find meAt Monreale. If I come not thenLet none look for me more. But if I comeAll shall be well. Go thou and tell them this.Sq.Come, captain, while thou mayst.Pal.I bid thee go.Obey me at once.Sq.(whistles at window and is answered). I have thy promise.To-morrow we shall see thee.[Exit.Pal.But for this cursed woundI had fled. To cure it must I risk my soul?1019Fool that I was, had I escaped with himI might have found a surgeon—now when she comesI will say nothing. Nothing ... yet, that’s no hope;For seeing her I must love her: and if I failTo win her wholly, I must lose my soulShe is here. (Aside.) Ah! what is this?Enter Margaret, with Rosso blindfold.MARGARET(to Rosso).You now are in the room. Stand in your place.While I make ready. (To Pal.) Let me wrap this clothAbout thy face. Lie ever still, and speak not.(To Rosso.) Your eyes, sir, are at liberty.ROSSO(unbandaging).Coming hither,I thought ’twould make a pretty poem to tell1030Of one, whose cruel mistress ne’er allowedThe meanest favour, till he dreamed one nightThat he was blind, and she, in pity of him,Led him forth by the hand where he would go,But left him suddenly; whereat he awoke,And wished no more to see ...Mar.Now, sir Apollo, come. Here lies your patient.Give him your aid, and tell your poem after.Ros.Well, let us see. Ay, here is all I need.Set them thus on the table, and here the light,1040So. (arranging). ’Tis the right arm. (unbinding.) Ah! when was this done?Mar.Have you forgot, sir? questions are forbidden.Ros.See, thou must hold his arm for me. Press hereThy fingers; firmly,—so. Thou dost not faintAt sight of blood?Mar.Nay, nay. And yet I know not.If there be much, I faint.Ros.(operating).I had forgottenI might not question;—’tis a surgeon’s habit.—First,—for where all are eager with their tale,—’Tis only courteous to invite the telling:—But chiefly—that it stablishes his judgment—1050Built on appearances,—and banishesConjecture from experience;—as ’twould nowFor me,—should this man say,—’twas yesterdayThe wound was made;—and he that dealt it meStood on my left,—and thro’ my arm outstretched,—In attitude of striking at another,—Thrust with—a sword.—Stir not, ’tis nearly done.—But I withdrew my arm ere he his weapon.—Loose not thy grasp: loose not!Mar.Sir, my attentionWas taken by your story. Never speak:1060’Twill mar your work.Ros.’Tis a small thing. ’Tis done.’Twas an unlucky lunge that lanced thee there.(To Mar.) What thinkest thou of my story?Mar.’Twas but guessing.Ros.Nay, inference. ’Twere guess to say, the skillWhich staunched the running blood, but could no more,Might be thy brother’s: that this sunburnt arm,Fine skin, and youthful fibre, were the bodyOf John Palicio.Pal.(discovering). I am betrayed!Ros.Not so:Then had I held my tongue.Pal.True.—What’s thy name?Ros.My name is Rosso. Sling thine arm across:1070There must it rest until the wound be healed.Mar.You have guessed the secret, sir, which we withheldIn your respect. This is my brother’s house;This is Palicio. Guard now what you have learnedAs closely, I pray, as if we had freely told it.Ros.Not to thee, lady, though in this and allI am thy servant; yet not now to theeI speak, but to Giovànn Palicio;To whom I say he need not ask of mePromise or oath. The good I am proud to have doneI shall not spoil by blabbing.1080Pal.Thank thee, Rosso.Ros.Noble and brave Palicio, mayst thou prosper.[Bandaging his own eyes.Pal.Thank thee, I thank thee, Rosso. So now my armIs mended. By heaven! this surgery hath a trickWorth knowing, could one learn it easily.Ros.(blindfold). Come, lady, and lead me forth.Mar.Why, what is this?You know your way: there’s nothing now to hide.Ros.Didst thou not bargain with me to lead me back?Mar.But there’s no need.Ros.Yet will I claim my fee.Where is thy hand?Mar.Sir, you but trifle.Ros.And thouRefusest me in a trifle? Then I will dare (unbandaging)1091To raise my terms. If I may kiss thy handI’ll be content.Mar.’Tis I, sir, should kiss yours.’Tis that hath earned the homage: and I’ll be kind.That hath done well; and thus I kiss it. (Kisses Rosso’s hand.) Now,Go, go in peace: thou’rt paid.[Making him go out.[Exit Rosso.Pal.(sitting).Why didst thou that?Mar.He loves me.Pal.Wouldst thou be as kind to me,If I should love thee?Mar.But he sends me sonnets.Pal.I could write sonnets.Mar.Ah, but his are writIn pure Sicilian.Pal.’Tis my proper tongue.1100Mar.I have kept my promise, sir, and now must leave.Your wound is healed.Pal.I fear I scarce can thank thee,If ’tis thy word to go. Or, if thou stayestBut to cure wounds,—I have another woundI shewed thee not, which hath a deeper seat:This hand may cure it.Mar.Nay, what mean you, sir?Pal.Margaret, I love thee. There, thou hast it all.Thou hast stolen my soul. I thought—my pride, my hope—O, I thought wrong—’tis nothing. All I have done,Or would do, I cast aside: I love thee only.1010Mar.Giovanni.Pal.O, ’tis true, there’s nothing noble,Beautiful, sacred, dear, familiar to me,I hold now at a straw’s worth: body and soulI am thine, Margaret, I am thine. O, answer me!Mar.Giovanni, ’tis so strange. ’Tis best I go.Pal.Thou didst kiss Rosso’s hand.Mar.For love of thee.Didst thou not guess?Pal.O, then, my dearest, kiss meNow for myself. Can it be true thou lovest me?Mar.Alas! ’tis learned too quickly.Pal.Can I think it,Spite of my savage life, my outlawry,My poverty?Mar.O, what are these?1120Pal.Indeed,My blood is noble.Mar.These are not the checksOr lures of love. Nay, what is noble blood?What were’t to be a lion, and to flyThe hunter like a hare? And if man shewLess fearless fierce and hungry for the rightThan doth a beast for food, what is his titleTo be God’s image worth? That best nobilityHath no more claim.Pal.But canst thou share my life?Mar.I am restless for it.Pal.Leave thy rank? thy wealth?Mar.I have lived too long that counterfeit of life.I’ll strive like thee: something I’ll do, like thee,1132To lessen misery. Nay, if man’s curseHang in necessity, I have the heartTo combat that, and find if in some partFate be not vulnerable.Pal.O joy, my dearest:I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thoughtThat thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?Mar.There’s none can hinder it.Pal.O, blessed joy!Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,1140Finding the word so easy, what a mountainThere lies to lift? Pledging to me and mineThy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stingsWill plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.Mar.Try me, Giovanni.Pal.Wilt thou aid me, love,To fly to-night? By morning I may meetMy men at San Martino: all my schemesMay yet be saved.Mar.Ah! wilt thou go, Giovanni?Thou’rt yet too weak.Pal.My presence, not my strength,Is needed.Mar.Alas! I fear.Pal.What, Margaret, dost thou fear?Mar.Only for thee. Yet go; I can be with thee1151By noon. My brother has a little houseAt Monreale, where I am used to stayWhen the wish takes me. There I’ll go to-morrow,And thence can visit thee. Thou didst not meanI should not come? I shall not hinder thee.Pal.Nay, nay.Mar.I’ll let thee from the house to-night,And give thee money which will aid thee well.My brother need know nothing. I can makeThe journey thither in an hour, and chooseMy time to beg his grace.1160Pal.What do I owe thee!Freedom, and life, and love,—thy love ... O, Margaret,What I shall do will pay thee.Mar.I must leave:For Manuel else will question of my stay.Pal.My treasure lost so soon!Mar.I go to saveWhat we have won. Farewell.Pal.Say at what hourI may go hence; and how.Mar.At dead of night:’Tis safest then.Pal.And wilt thou come thyself?Mar.When the church bell with double stroke hath tolledThe death-knell of to-morrow’s second hour,1170While its last jar yet shelters in the ear,Listen: and at thy door when thou shalt catchA small and wakeful noise, such as is madeBy the sharp teeth of an unventurous mouse,Scraping his scanty feast when all is still,Come forth. Thou’lt meet my hand, and at the gateI’ll give thee what I have. Tied in thy bundleWill be a letter shewing thee the placeWhere thou must send me tidings. Now, farewell.Pal.Yet not farewell.Mar.To-night I shall not see thee:1180Nor must thou speak. So, till to-morrow’s sunLasts our farewell.Pal.Then with to-morrow, Margaret,My life begins.Mar.O, ’tis the greater joyFor me than thee.Pal.Ay, for the giver everHath the best share. And thus I kiss thee, love.Farewell.Mar.Be ready.Pal.Trust me.Mar.And take thy dagger.Farewell.[Going.

Room in the Palace. Enter BLASCO.

BLASCO.

I have sucked this Ferdinand. Duke Philip bearsSecret despatches sealed, not to be brokenSave on emergency; from which I gatherThat if emergency arise, this PhilipWill be our viceroy. Palicio being escapedMust make the emergency.—Then, where am I?560Packed off to Spain with Hugo’s broken service,To answer his impeachment. ’Tis high timeI cast by these old friends, such as they are,And turn my face to the rising sun, this Philip.I see the way too. Manuel’s love for ConstanceHath roused again his former love for herTo a burning jealousy; if I feed thatI win his ear, and make my foe his foe.As for Palicio, should he hold backI have a way with him, and can contrive570He shall seize Hugo, or himself be seized,As may suit best. The mischief set on foot,Philip must break his seals; and I come inWith him as friendly to the people’s rights,And trusted servant of the crown. By heav’n,I shall deserve their credit. See, here he comes.

I have sucked this Ferdinand. Duke Philip bears

Secret despatches sealed, not to be broken

Save on emergency; from which I gather

That if emergency arise, this Philip

Will be our viceroy. Palicio being escaped

Must make the emergency.—Then, where am I?

Packed off to Spain with Hugo’s broken service,

To answer his impeachment. ’Tis high time

I cast by these old friends, such as they are,

And turn my face to the rising sun, this Philip.

I see the way too. Manuel’s love for Constance

Hath roused again his former love for her

To a burning jealousy; if I feed that

I win his ear, and make my foe his foe.

As for Palicio, should he hold back

I have a way with him, and can contrive

He shall seize Hugo, or himself be seized,

As may suit best. The mischief set on foot,

Philip must break his seals; and I come in

With him as friendly to the people’s rights,

And trusted servant of the crown. By heav’n,

I shall deserve their credit. See, here he comes.

Enter Philip.

Good morrow to your grace.

PHILIP.

Good morrow, Blasco.

Bl.I served thy father well.

Ph.I know it, Blasco.What of it now?

Ph.I know it, Blasco.

What of it now?

Bl.I do not urge my serviceLooking for recompense; I do not ask580So much as that your grace remember meAt court, to mention my forgotten nameIn the new king’s ear; as, When I was in SicilyI saw old Blasco; nay, ’twas for good-willI served, and now ’tis that I want a masterWhich bids me speak. If but your grace could find meEmployment worth my wits, I would serve well.

Bl.I do not urge my service

Looking for recompense; I do not ask

So much as that your grace remember me

At court, to mention my forgotten name

In the new king’s ear; as, When I was in Sicily

I saw old Blasco; nay, ’twas for good-will

I served, and now ’tis that I want a master

Which bids me speak. If but your grace could find me

Employment worth my wits, I would serve well.

Ph.I’ll think of it.

Bl.Let your grace know my lifeSpent in this court should make my loyaltyMore than a counsellor. In this rebellion590I know where Hugo fails, where Manuel leans;Could blow upon the flame or snuff it out,Could bring you to the leaders.

Bl.Let your grace know my life

Spent in this court should make my loyalty

More than a counsellor. In this rebellion

I know where Hugo fails, where Manuel leans;

Could blow upon the flame or snuff it out,

Could bring you to the leaders.

Ph.Honest Blasco,Thou know’st the world.

Ph.Honest Blasco,

Thou know’st the world.

Bl.I know that one who comesTo make peace in a quarrel that he knows not,Needs other knowledge than he is like to getFrom either party. The strings of policyAre coiled in private chambers; if your graceWould pull at these ...

Bl.I know that one who comes

To make peace in a quarrel that he knows not,

Needs other knowledge than he is like to get

From either party. The strings of policy

Are coiled in private chambers; if your grace

Would pull at these ...

Ph.True. If thou serve me thusI’ll take instruction.

Ph.True. If thou serve me thus

I’ll take instruction.

Bl.Let your grace now prove meIn any question.

Bl.Let your grace now prove me

In any question.

600Ph.This, then. We in SpainSupposed that your revolt stood on two legs,Over-taxation and the hate of Hugo;And had its claim for justice countenancedBy Manuel’s voice: but coming here, I findThat he and Hugo’s daughter are betrothed.Now here’s a private matter, which, I take it,Involves the public. Say, doth Manuel playHis policy on Hugo, or hath HugoTrumped up a match with Manuel to supportHis failing credit?

Ph.This, then. We in Spain

Supposed that your revolt stood on two legs,

Over-taxation and the hate of Hugo;

And had its claim for justice countenanced

By Manuel’s voice: but coming here, I find

That he and Hugo’s daughter are betrothed.

Now here’s a private matter, which, I take it,

Involves the public. Say, doth Manuel play

His policy on Hugo, or hath Hugo

Trumped up a match with Manuel to support

His failing credit?

Bl.They are not betrothed, your grace.611What passes between lovers is unknown:But this is sure, Hugo withholds consent,And doth so to win Manuel to his side.

Bl.They are not betrothed, your grace.

What passes between lovers is unknown:

But this is sure, Hugo withholds consent,

And doth so to win Manuel to his side.

Ph.Doth not that win him?

Bl.Nay.

Ph.Then I concludeHe loves not.

Ph.Then I conclude

He loves not.

Bl.Nay, indeed; it gives me painTo witness his indifference; for the ladyDeserves the best.

Bl.Nay, indeed; it gives me pain

To witness his indifference; for the lady

Deserves the best.

Ph.Stay, count. RememberIn what has passed that word may well blame me.

Ph.Stay, count. Remember

In what has passed that word may well blame me.

Bl.I hearken not to idle tales. Your grace620May be punctilious; but in Manuel’s instanceThere’s no excuse.

Bl.I hearken not to idle tales. Your grace

May be punctilious; but in Manuel’s instance

There’s no excuse.

Ph.I care not what men say.And now it hurts me more to hear thee blameAnother for the fault I stumbled in,Than if ’twas said of me. I need thy knowledge.Look, thou canst serve me; and I let none serveFor nothing. Take my purse (gives it); thou mayst have needTo spend so much for me.

Ph.I care not what men say.

And now it hurts me more to hear thee blame

Another for the fault I stumbled in,

Than if ’twas said of me. I need thy knowledge.

Look, thou canst serve me; and I let none serve

For nothing. Take my purse (gives it); thou mayst have need

To spend so much for me.

Bl.I thank your grace.I shun no obligation, and I am poor.

Bl.I thank your grace.

I shun no obligation, and I am poor.

Ph.True, all men are so. Come now to my chamber,Where we may talk in private.

Ph.True, all men are so. Come now to my chamber,

Where we may talk in private.

630Bl.(aside).’Tis well begun.

Bl.(aside).’Tis well begun.

[Exeunt.

A room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO reclining on a long chair half-dressed. Daylight nearly excluded: one candle burns.PALICIO.I seem to have lived a life in these few days;To have died, and waked in no less strange a place,Than where I think departed spirits will flyIn doom of death and unendurable silenceAfter their day of doing. Oh! ’tis strangeWhat just the shedding a few drops of bloodWill bring about—to loosen a handkerchief,And on her undiscoverable journeyThe soul sets forth. Nay, but to bleed so far640As I have done, breeds fancies much akinTo death; else would my spirit more revolt’Gainst this enforcèd quiet and idleness:This blocking of my life just on the stirAnd hurry of hope, when all my operationsPressed to success. I am surely very weak,That I can lie and fret not, when I hearThe distant cries, passing from street to street,Which tell how prompt and ripe my people wereFor this their lost occasion. (Knocking heard.) Some one knocks.Nay, the key turns. ’Tis Manuel.MARGARET(at door).650May I come in?Pal.(aside). Ah! who is this? Who’s there?[Covering himself.Mar.(entering).’Tis only I,Manuël’s sister. I have come to seeIf I can do you any service, lady.Pal.He did not send you?Mar.Nay, but I may hopeI shall not seem to intrude, thus waiting on you.Pal.(aside). What’s to be done?Mar.The room is dark. I fear you are ill.Pal.I am hurt and must not stir.Mar.Then lying hereIn pain you must want help and company.’Tis well I came. May I draw back the curtains?660Pal.Nay, there was reason, madam, why your brotherShut door and window: I have enemies.Mar.Alas, alas!I can shew equal care. First to relock the door.(Aside, going to door.) She is a lady.Pal.(aside).’Tis the famous Margaret.Mar.Now let me light these candles.[Stage brightens.Pal.(aside). Surely in God’s paradise, that rest of souls,His angels and pure spirits look and speakAnd move like this. O wonder! Wherefore comes she?And how to keep her but a moment longer670From the discovery? and how to tell her?Mar.Now while I sit.[Finds gown on the chair.... Why, oh! ’tis drenched with blood,Your gown. Are you so hurt?Pal.A sword-thrust, lady.Mar.A sword-thrust. Ah!Pal.Thou earnest unadvised,Lady: I wore the gown; if that deceived thee.Yet ’twas but a disguise to save my life.I am Palicio.Mar.Sir!Pal.Escaped from prisonAnd my pursuers hither. Thy brother’s kindnessHides me from death awhile.Mar.I pray thy pardon.’Twas not mere idle curiosity680That made my fault; but made I’ll mend it, sir,As soon as may be.[Going.Pal.(springing up). Stay, nay, put down that key.I bid thee stay. Thou hast forced my secret. HearThe whole, and when thou hast heard I shall not fearThe unlocking of thy lips.Mar.Why, sir, the thingMy brother means to hide is hidden to me.Pal.’Tis not alone my life ...Mar.Ah! see the blood is trickling down thy hand!Pal.Pest! it hath started freshly.Mar.Cannot I help thee?Pal.Ay, ’tis the bandage on this arm.Mar.To tie it?Pal.My moving hath displaced it.690Mar.See, alas!The ill I have done. Sit, I will bind it for thee.Pal.Myself I cannot.Mar.Nay. Tell thou me how.Pal.Here, round this pad. As tightly as thou wilt.Nay, tighter yet.Mar.Shall I not harm thee?Pal.Tighter.Mar.I cannot pull it tighter.Pal.Knot it so.’Twill do: the blood hath ceased.Mar.Oh, I am glad.Do not thou stir: see, now, to wash thine arm,I’ll bring thee water.[Goes for it.Pal.(aside).By heaven, where have I lived,Like a wild beast beneath the open skies,700In dens and caves, and never known the tasteOf this soft ravishment? The rich of the earthAre right: their bars and bolts are wisely wrought,Having such treasure in their closed chambers.Mar.Here ’tis. Reach forth thine arm.Pal.Nay, give’t to me.Stain not thy hands.Mar.I pray thee.Pal.As thou wilt.Mar.How did it happen?Pal.Wouldst thou hear it?Mar.Tell me.Pal.I had been two days in prison ...Mar.Tell me, first,How could they catch thee?Pal.Treachery: I was takenBy Hugo’s soldiers as I knelt at mass.710Three stole behind me, seized me by the arms,And dragged me forth. I knew I was betrayed;I had entered but that morning in the town;I was not known to them, nor did the hirelingsLook on my face. They led me straight to prison,Thrust me in a cell so dank and dark and small,That to be built alive into the graveWere not more horrible.Mar.Hugo would have killed thee.Pal.Or let me starve; or else some gentle mercy;Gouged my live eyeballs out, or lopped my hands.Mar.How couldst thou ’scape?Pal.Now thou wilt see our people721Have their account. The second night my gaolerBrought in a woman with a deed to sign.I knew my hope, and to her feigned reproachAnswered in anger back: but when she badeI took the deed, and felt beneath the paperA dagger’s edge. That was my key to heaven,Could I strike silently. To make occasion,I thrust her from me with an oath: she fell,As well she knew, against the foe, who stooping,730Stooped to his death and fell without a groan.Then quick she doffed her gown for my disguise,Telling me in few words how this was plannedBy friends who had seen me taken: they had not meansFor present rescue, but discovering soonWho had betrayed me, used his cursed nameWith the governour of the prison, to admitHer, his pretended wife, that she might claimSettlement of some debt before I died.So was it paid. Then we went forth together,740I in her woman’s garments, following her,Who wore the habit of the soldier slain:And she went clear: but I, for some suspicionWas questioned at the gate. Of those two men,One I slew straight: the other, as I struck,Thrust thro’ my arm, yet not so hurtfullyBut that he fell for it too. But thence alarmWas given: I fled pursued, and gat me clear,Leaping your garden wall.Mar.Who was the woman?Pal.One of our people.Mar.May her name be told?Pal.I never heard it.750Mar.Yet she knew thee well.I had been proud to have done her deed. I thinkThere are not many men as brave as she.Pal.O, lady, there are many, women and men,Sworn to risk life in our good cause.Mar.Alas,That such fine courage should be so misled!Pal.Misled? how, if I lead it?Mar.I had forgot.Pardon me, sir. It was my brother’s word.Pal.Ay, ’tis his word. And yet I honour Manuel.Were’t not for him there scarce would be a man760Of all our people who would reverenceJustice and order, and those other namesOf social welfare. ’Tis to him aloneWe have looked to give us these. But if he standWhere he can take our tyrants by the armAnd show them baits of righteousness, and lead themWhere they should go, shall we who lie beneathForbear to sting the laggard heel of justice,Or think it crime to obstruct the path of wrong?I blame not him that from his higher place770He finds offence in outcry and disorder:To such as without loss or shame outrideThe storms of shifting fortune this is easy.Mar.What dost thou but exasperate ill-will?Pal.Already our bread has been untaxed two days.Mar.And may be two days more.Pal.I have better hope,Or had: for if I had once provoked the SpaniardTo set his troops against us, all the nobles,Who now retired hold neutral parliament,Would then have joined the people, and compelled780The justice of our claim by force of arms.Mar.All, say’st thou?Pal.All save one or two, who are boughtWith Hugo’s money.Mar.Say’st thou bought?Pal.O lady,Unto their great dishonour they are bought,With sweated pence wrung from the labourer,Ere he can buy a loaf to feed his childrenOut of the corn his hands have sown and reaped.Is not this shame?Mar.’Tis shame.Pal.And shall PalicioSee this thing done, because he hath not office,Or those few paltry florins, which might turnThe scale for poor Sicilians?790Mar.Ah, indeed,I knew, I felt that thou wert right; and nowI see it: I never blamed thee.Pal.No, nor ManuelBlames me at heart, tho’ he forbid my means.Think, had I kept my old estate, and heHad fallen as I, should I not do as he,And he as I am doing?Mar.Oh, I think’Tis nobler to be poor. To share the sufferingOf them we pity ranks above redress.I am come to envy thee.Pal.And certain it is,800They who have least to lose will venture most.Mar.Yet those that have can give. What’s the best hopeOf this rebellion?Pal.We would make thy brotherViceroy in place of Hugo.Mar.Will that be?Pal.Here I know nothing, save that nought is done.Mar.Is there no leader then but thee?Pal.The peopleAre limbs without a head.Mar.When will thy woundBe healed?Pal.Thy brother says that any surgeonCould mend it quickly, but that his own skill,Which knows the injury, was never practised810To find out and to bind the wounded vessel,Which, being unhelped of art, may run to death.Mar.To death! And hath he sent no surgeon?Pal.Nay,That were the greater risk for him and me.Mar.Not so, if he could cure thee. I shall bring one.[As going.Pal.It cannot be.Mar.Thou mayst believe there’s noneIn all Palermo but myself could do it:Yet can I do it.Pal.Speak with Manuel first.Mar.Oh! I shall tell him all. He will consent.’Tis well I came. No surgeon for thee! Ah!I go.Pal.Thou wilt return?820Mar.Be sure, be sure.And with the leech.[Exit.Pal.She is gone.[Scene shuts across.

A room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO reclining on a long chair half-dressed. Daylight nearly excluded: one candle burns.

PALICIO.

I seem to have lived a life in these few days;To have died, and waked in no less strange a place,Than where I think departed spirits will flyIn doom of death and unendurable silenceAfter their day of doing. Oh! ’tis strangeWhat just the shedding a few drops of bloodWill bring about—to loosen a handkerchief,And on her undiscoverable journeyThe soul sets forth. Nay, but to bleed so far640As I have done, breeds fancies much akinTo death; else would my spirit more revolt’Gainst this enforcèd quiet and idleness:This blocking of my life just on the stirAnd hurry of hope, when all my operationsPressed to success. I am surely very weak,That I can lie and fret not, when I hearThe distant cries, passing from street to street,Which tell how prompt and ripe my people wereFor this their lost occasion. (Knocking heard.) Some one knocks.Nay, the key turns. ’Tis Manuel.

I seem to have lived a life in these few days;

To have died, and waked in no less strange a place,

Than where I think departed spirits will fly

In doom of death and unendurable silence

After their day of doing. Oh! ’tis strange

What just the shedding a few drops of blood

Will bring about—to loosen a handkerchief,

And on her undiscoverable journey

The soul sets forth. Nay, but to bleed so far

As I have done, breeds fancies much akin

To death; else would my spirit more revolt

’Gainst this enforcèd quiet and idleness:

This blocking of my life just on the stir

And hurry of hope, when all my operations

Pressed to success. I am surely very weak,

That I can lie and fret not, when I hear

The distant cries, passing from street to street,

Which tell how prompt and ripe my people were

For this their lost occasion. (Knocking heard.) Some one knocks.

Nay, the key turns. ’Tis Manuel.

MARGARET(at door).

650May I come in?

May I come in?

Pal.(aside). Ah! who is this? Who’s there?

[Covering himself.

Mar.(entering).’Tis only I,Manuël’s sister. I have come to seeIf I can do you any service, lady.

Mar.(entering).

’Tis only I,

Manuël’s sister. I have come to see

If I can do you any service, lady.

Pal.He did not send you?

Mar.Nay, but I may hopeI shall not seem to intrude, thus waiting on you.

Mar.Nay, but I may hope

I shall not seem to intrude, thus waiting on you.

Pal.(aside). What’s to be done?

Mar.The room is dark. I fear you are ill.

Pal.I am hurt and must not stir.

Mar.Then lying hereIn pain you must want help and company.’Tis well I came. May I draw back the curtains?

Mar.Then lying here

In pain you must want help and company.

’Tis well I came. May I draw back the curtains?

660Pal.Nay, there was reason, madam, why your brotherShut door and window: I have enemies.

Pal.Nay, there was reason, madam, why your brother

Shut door and window: I have enemies.

Mar.Alas, alas!I can shew equal care. First to relock the door.(Aside, going to door.) She is a lady.

Mar.Alas, alas!

I can shew equal care. First to relock the door.

(Aside, going to door.) She is a lady.

Pal.(aside).’Tis the famous Margaret.

Mar.Now let me light these candles.

[Stage brightens.

Pal.(aside). Surely in God’s paradise, that rest of souls,His angels and pure spirits look and speakAnd move like this. O wonder! Wherefore comes she?And how to keep her but a moment longer670From the discovery? and how to tell her?

Pal.(aside). Surely in God’s paradise, that rest of souls,

His angels and pure spirits look and speak

And move like this. O wonder! Wherefore comes she?

And how to keep her but a moment longer

From the discovery? and how to tell her?

Mar.Now while I sit.[Finds gown on the chair.... Why, oh! ’tis drenched with blood,Your gown. Are you so hurt?

Mar.Now while I sit.[Finds gown on the chair.

... Why, oh! ’tis drenched with blood,

Your gown. Are you so hurt?

Pal.A sword-thrust, lady.

Mar.A sword-thrust. Ah!

Pal.Thou earnest unadvised,Lady: I wore the gown; if that deceived thee.Yet ’twas but a disguise to save my life.I am Palicio.

Pal.Thou earnest unadvised,

Lady: I wore the gown; if that deceived thee.

Yet ’twas but a disguise to save my life.

I am Palicio.

Mar.Sir!

Pal.Escaped from prisonAnd my pursuers hither. Thy brother’s kindnessHides me from death awhile.

Pal.Escaped from prison

And my pursuers hither. Thy brother’s kindness

Hides me from death awhile.

Mar.I pray thy pardon.’Twas not mere idle curiosity680That made my fault; but made I’ll mend it, sir,As soon as may be.[Going.

Mar.I pray thy pardon.

’Twas not mere idle curiosity

That made my fault; but made I’ll mend it, sir,

As soon as may be.[Going.

Pal.(springing up). Stay, nay, put down that key.I bid thee stay. Thou hast forced my secret. HearThe whole, and when thou hast heard I shall not fearThe unlocking of thy lips.

Pal.(springing up). Stay, nay, put down that key.

I bid thee stay. Thou hast forced my secret. Hear

The whole, and when thou hast heard I shall not fear

The unlocking of thy lips.

Mar.Why, sir, the thingMy brother means to hide is hidden to me.

Mar.Why, sir, the thing

My brother means to hide is hidden to me.

Pal.’Tis not alone my life ...

Mar.Ah! see the blood is trickling down thy hand!

Pal.Pest! it hath started freshly.

Mar.Cannot I help thee?

Pal.Ay, ’tis the bandage on this arm.

Mar.To tie it?

Pal.My moving hath displaced it.

690Mar.See, alas!The ill I have done. Sit, I will bind it for thee.

Mar.See, alas!

The ill I have done. Sit, I will bind it for thee.

Pal.Myself I cannot.

Mar.Nay. Tell thou me how.

Pal.Here, round this pad. As tightly as thou wilt.Nay, tighter yet.

Pal.Here, round this pad. As tightly as thou wilt.

Nay, tighter yet.

Mar.Shall I not harm thee?

Pal.Tighter.

Mar.I cannot pull it tighter.

Pal.Knot it so.’Twill do: the blood hath ceased.

Pal.Knot it so.

’Twill do: the blood hath ceased.

Mar.Oh, I am glad.Do not thou stir: see, now, to wash thine arm,I’ll bring thee water.[Goes for it.

Mar.Oh, I am glad.

Do not thou stir: see, now, to wash thine arm,

I’ll bring thee water.[Goes for it.

Pal.(aside).By heaven, where have I lived,Like a wild beast beneath the open skies,700In dens and caves, and never known the tasteOf this soft ravishment? The rich of the earthAre right: their bars and bolts are wisely wrought,Having such treasure in their closed chambers.

Pal.(aside).By heaven, where have I lived,

Like a wild beast beneath the open skies,

In dens and caves, and never known the taste

Of this soft ravishment? The rich of the earth

Are right: their bars and bolts are wisely wrought,

Having such treasure in their closed chambers.

Mar.Here ’tis. Reach forth thine arm.

Pal.Nay, give’t to me.Stain not thy hands.

Pal.Nay, give’t to me.

Stain not thy hands.

Mar.I pray thee.

Pal.As thou wilt.

Mar.How did it happen?

Pal.Wouldst thou hear it?

Mar.Tell me.

Pal.I had been two days in prison ...

Mar.Tell me, first,How could they catch thee?

Mar.Tell me, first,

How could they catch thee?

Pal.Treachery: I was takenBy Hugo’s soldiers as I knelt at mass.710Three stole behind me, seized me by the arms,And dragged me forth. I knew I was betrayed;I had entered but that morning in the town;I was not known to them, nor did the hirelingsLook on my face. They led me straight to prison,Thrust me in a cell so dank and dark and small,That to be built alive into the graveWere not more horrible.

Pal.Treachery: I was taken

By Hugo’s soldiers as I knelt at mass.

Three stole behind me, seized me by the arms,

And dragged me forth. I knew I was betrayed;

I had entered but that morning in the town;

I was not known to them, nor did the hirelings

Look on my face. They led me straight to prison,

Thrust me in a cell so dank and dark and small,

That to be built alive into the grave

Were not more horrible.

Mar.Hugo would have killed thee.

Pal.Or let me starve; or else some gentle mercy;Gouged my live eyeballs out, or lopped my hands.

Pal.Or let me starve; or else some gentle mercy;

Gouged my live eyeballs out, or lopped my hands.

Mar.How couldst thou ’scape?

Pal.Now thou wilt see our people721Have their account. The second night my gaolerBrought in a woman with a deed to sign.I knew my hope, and to her feigned reproachAnswered in anger back: but when she badeI took the deed, and felt beneath the paperA dagger’s edge. That was my key to heaven,Could I strike silently. To make occasion,I thrust her from me with an oath: she fell,As well she knew, against the foe, who stooping,730Stooped to his death and fell without a groan.Then quick she doffed her gown for my disguise,Telling me in few words how this was plannedBy friends who had seen me taken: they had not meansFor present rescue, but discovering soonWho had betrayed me, used his cursed nameWith the governour of the prison, to admitHer, his pretended wife, that she might claimSettlement of some debt before I died.So was it paid. Then we went forth together,740I in her woman’s garments, following her,Who wore the habit of the soldier slain:And she went clear: but I, for some suspicionWas questioned at the gate. Of those two men,One I slew straight: the other, as I struck,Thrust thro’ my arm, yet not so hurtfullyBut that he fell for it too. But thence alarmWas given: I fled pursued, and gat me clear,Leaping your garden wall.

Pal.Now thou wilt see our people

Have their account. The second night my gaoler

Brought in a woman with a deed to sign.

I knew my hope, and to her feigned reproach

Answered in anger back: but when she bade

I took the deed, and felt beneath the paper

A dagger’s edge. That was my key to heaven,

Could I strike silently. To make occasion,

I thrust her from me with an oath: she fell,

As well she knew, against the foe, who stooping,

Stooped to his death and fell without a groan.

Then quick she doffed her gown for my disguise,

Telling me in few words how this was planned

By friends who had seen me taken: they had not means

For present rescue, but discovering soon

Who had betrayed me, used his cursed name

With the governour of the prison, to admit

Her, his pretended wife, that she might claim

Settlement of some debt before I died.

So was it paid. Then we went forth together,

I in her woman’s garments, following her,

Who wore the habit of the soldier slain:

And she went clear: but I, for some suspicion

Was questioned at the gate. Of those two men,

One I slew straight: the other, as I struck,

Thrust thro’ my arm, yet not so hurtfully

But that he fell for it too. But thence alarm

Was given: I fled pursued, and gat me clear,

Leaping your garden wall.

Mar.Who was the woman?

Pal.One of our people.

Mar.May her name be told?

Pal.I never heard it.

750Mar.Yet she knew thee well.I had been proud to have done her deed. I thinkThere are not many men as brave as she.

Mar.Yet she knew thee well.

I had been proud to have done her deed. I think

There are not many men as brave as she.

Pal.O, lady, there are many, women and men,Sworn to risk life in our good cause.

Pal.O, lady, there are many, women and men,

Sworn to risk life in our good cause.

Mar.Alas,That such fine courage should be so misled!

Mar.Alas,

That such fine courage should be so misled!

Pal.Misled? how, if I lead it?

Mar.I had forgot.Pardon me, sir. It was my brother’s word.

Mar.I had forgot.

Pardon me, sir. It was my brother’s word.

Pal.Ay, ’tis his word. And yet I honour Manuel.Were’t not for him there scarce would be a man760Of all our people who would reverenceJustice and order, and those other namesOf social welfare. ’Tis to him aloneWe have looked to give us these. But if he standWhere he can take our tyrants by the armAnd show them baits of righteousness, and lead themWhere they should go, shall we who lie beneathForbear to sting the laggard heel of justice,Or think it crime to obstruct the path of wrong?I blame not him that from his higher place770He finds offence in outcry and disorder:To such as without loss or shame outrideThe storms of shifting fortune this is easy.

Pal.Ay, ’tis his word. And yet I honour Manuel.

Were’t not for him there scarce would be a man

Of all our people who would reverence

Justice and order, and those other names

Of social welfare. ’Tis to him alone

We have looked to give us these. But if he stand

Where he can take our tyrants by the arm

And show them baits of righteousness, and lead them

Where they should go, shall we who lie beneath

Forbear to sting the laggard heel of justice,

Or think it crime to obstruct the path of wrong?

I blame not him that from his higher place

He finds offence in outcry and disorder:

To such as without loss or shame outride

The storms of shifting fortune this is easy.

Mar.What dost thou but exasperate ill-will?

Pal.Already our bread has been untaxed two days.

Mar.And may be two days more.

Pal.I have better hope,Or had: for if I had once provoked the SpaniardTo set his troops against us, all the nobles,Who now retired hold neutral parliament,Would then have joined the people, and compelled780The justice of our claim by force of arms.

Pal.I have better hope,

Or had: for if I had once provoked the Spaniard

To set his troops against us, all the nobles,

Who now retired hold neutral parliament,

Would then have joined the people, and compelled

The justice of our claim by force of arms.

Mar.All, say’st thou?

Pal.All save one or two, who are boughtWith Hugo’s money.

Pal.All save one or two, who are bought

With Hugo’s money.

Mar.Say’st thou bought?

Pal.O lady,Unto their great dishonour they are bought,With sweated pence wrung from the labourer,Ere he can buy a loaf to feed his childrenOut of the corn his hands have sown and reaped.Is not this shame?

Pal.O lady,

Unto their great dishonour they are bought,

With sweated pence wrung from the labourer,

Ere he can buy a loaf to feed his children

Out of the corn his hands have sown and reaped.

Is not this shame?

Mar.’Tis shame.

Pal.And shall PalicioSee this thing done, because he hath not office,Or those few paltry florins, which might turnThe scale for poor Sicilians?

Pal.And shall Palicio

See this thing done, because he hath not office,

Or those few paltry florins, which might turn

The scale for poor Sicilians?

790Mar.Ah, indeed,I knew, I felt that thou wert right; and nowI see it: I never blamed thee.

Mar.Ah, indeed,

I knew, I felt that thou wert right; and now

I see it: I never blamed thee.

Pal.No, nor ManuelBlames me at heart, tho’ he forbid my means.Think, had I kept my old estate, and heHad fallen as I, should I not do as he,And he as I am doing?

Pal.No, nor Manuel

Blames me at heart, tho’ he forbid my means.

Think, had I kept my old estate, and he

Had fallen as I, should I not do as he,

And he as I am doing?

Mar.Oh, I think’Tis nobler to be poor. To share the sufferingOf them we pity ranks above redress.I am come to envy thee.

Mar.Oh, I think

’Tis nobler to be poor. To share the suffering

Of them we pity ranks above redress.

I am come to envy thee.

Pal.And certain it is,800They who have least to lose will venture most.

Pal.And certain it is,

They who have least to lose will venture most.

Mar.Yet those that have can give. What’s the best hopeOf this rebellion?

Mar.Yet those that have can give. What’s the best hope

Of this rebellion?

Pal.We would make thy brotherViceroy in place of Hugo.

Pal.We would make thy brother

Viceroy in place of Hugo.

Mar.Will that be?

Pal.Here I know nothing, save that nought is done.

Mar.Is there no leader then but thee?

Pal.The peopleAre limbs without a head.

Pal.The people

Are limbs without a head.

Mar.When will thy woundBe healed?

Mar.When will thy wound

Be healed?

Pal.Thy brother says that any surgeonCould mend it quickly, but that his own skill,Which knows the injury, was never practised810To find out and to bind the wounded vessel,Which, being unhelped of art, may run to death.

Pal.Thy brother says that any surgeon

Could mend it quickly, but that his own skill,

Which knows the injury, was never practised

To find out and to bind the wounded vessel,

Which, being unhelped of art, may run to death.

Mar.To death! And hath he sent no surgeon?

Pal.Nay,That were the greater risk for him and me.

Pal.Nay,

That were the greater risk for him and me.

Mar.Not so, if he could cure thee. I shall bring one.[As going.

Pal.It cannot be.

Mar.Thou mayst believe there’s noneIn all Palermo but myself could do it:Yet can I do it.

Mar.Thou mayst believe there’s none

In all Palermo but myself could do it:

Yet can I do it.

Pal.Speak with Manuel first.

Mar.Oh! I shall tell him all. He will consent.’Tis well I came. No surgeon for thee! Ah!I go.

Mar.Oh! I shall tell him all. He will consent.

’Tis well I came. No surgeon for thee! Ah!

I go.

Pal.Thou wilt return?

820Mar.Be sure, be sure.And with the leech.[Exit.

Mar.Be sure, be sure.

And with the leech.[Exit.

Pal.She is gone.

[Scene shuts across.

In Manuel’s house. MARGARET and MANUEL meeting.MARGARET.Brother, what wilt thou say? Wilt thou forgive me?Hear me confess.MANUEL.What now, my mischief-maker?Mar.I have seen Palicio.Man.Hey! ’twas thy evil geniusLed thee that way.Mar.I thinking him a woman,Offered some service: whereupon he told meWho he was, all his story, and of his wound.Man.I am sorry; I should have warned thee, for the knowledgeMakes thee so far accomplice; and I know notHow ’twill be taken when ’tis known.830Mar.O, brother,Thou hast done nobly.Man.I will tell to theeMy motives.Mar.Nay, I need no motives.Man.Hear them.Palicio’s life is forfeit, for he has killedThree of his guards: but to the dangerous deedHe had provocation, such as I should holdClears him of crime: wherefore I take upon meTo force a loan of Justice while she sleeps,For fear a thief should rob her: to this, moreover,The claim of kinship binds me,—nay, be patient,840And hear me out.—Already our disordersHave been reported at the Spanish court;The enquiry set on foot will much endamageHugo’s good name: I doubt not we shall haveAnother viceroy, and the revolutionWill justify the movers.Mar.Oh! all that,Be as it may, will never cure his wound.He needs a surgeon: we must find a surgeon.Man.No: he must lie concealed till I procureHis pardon. His discovery now were death.Mar.But if I bring one secretly?850Man.How secretly?Better cry down the streets the man is here:That might escape attention.Mar.I know a man.Have I not sometimes shewn thee certain sonnetsWrit in Sicilian speech?Man.Eh! Michael Rosso?Mar.’Tis he. I think he’d love to do my biddingIn a more dangerous matter. Give me leave,I’ll bring him here to-night.Man.I had thought of him,But shrank from taxing his good-will. And yet—(Aside.) For his own sake ’twere kind ... and Margaret asks it ...860Secrets, they say, discover sympathies.—(Aloud.) Ay, ’tis well thought of.Mar.I can answer for him.Man.I see. Yet there’s no cause why he should know.Escort him blindfold hither; let PalicioHave his face covered. Let him ask no questions:And when ’tis done convey him blindfold back.’Twere best he should not know.Mar.O, brother, I thank thee.Man.Why, girl, thou’rt crazed.Mar.May I not go at once?Man.Nay, wait till dusk; and see, take here my seal,Since thou must go alone: ’twill be thy freedom870From any questionings of any people.Use all precautions, and impose on RossoSacredest secrecy: ’tis thou and heMust carry it thro’. Be careful.Mar.I will put onSome common clothing, and disguise my face.I thank thee.[Exit.Man.The girl’s in love. Now, bravo Rosso!I wish thee well. There’s not a purer spiritFleshed in all Sicily; nay, nor a manI’d sooner call brother. Why, ’twas my choice,Long urged in vain. That chanceth in an hour880Which comes not in nine years. ’Tis very true,Fancy resents all judgment, and another’sWill often kill it quite. Now, when I lookedRather for anything than my own wish,—heigh-ho!’Tis I that stand in the way. I must discourage it.Enter Philip(with some papers).Ah, Philip.PHILIP.Let me give you back the papers.I have read them.Man.Well?Ph.The viceroy’s guilt is plain.Your purpose cannot be to press this count.Man.If the complaints, which I have already made,Be quashed at court, I shall.Ph.’Tis peculation890So gross, ’twould ruin Hugo to expose it.Wished you to break with him,—yet his disgraceCannot be nothing to you: I should marvelYou had no associations, no affections,Shocked at the thought.Man.To interests manifoldAs manifest, Justice is blind. If SpainRemove not Hugo on the charges laid,I have shewn thee what’s to follow. Would you avert it,Press his dismissal. I must to the palace.Guard thou the papers for me till I am back.[Exit.Ph.These papers are conviction. Blasco is right:901He loves not. That is clear; for he would ruinHer father. Then again my rivalryAvowed,—ay, if he had an ear, avowed,—He doth not see. So cold, how could he win her?Or wish to win her? She is mine.—And yet I would’Twere any man but Manuel. Ah! who comes?’Tis she. Now may I prove her.Enter Constance with Servant.CONSTANCE(to servt.).If she be not within, prithee enquire909Where she is gone. I will await thee here.[Exit servt.I have been most foolish. (Seeing Philip.) Philip!Ph.Yes, ’tis I.Constance.Con.What wouldst thou?Ph.(kneeling).I entreat a favour,Which is to me the one boon in the world.Con.Rise, sir, what is’t?Ph.That I may speak, nor leaveLove’s wound unhealed.Con.’Twere well to seal forgiveness,Companion of forgetfulness. Say, therefore.The few words that are due.Ph.Tho’ I repent,Repentance cannot own forgetfulness.It pleads forgiveness in the name of love.Con.How in that name?Ph.Constance, I love thee still.Con.Sir!920Ph.Oh! ’tis true ...Reproach me not, Constance: my evil lifeI have quite renounced. I used it but to learnThe wisdom of that other. I come backFrom folly and idleness and evil days.Whate’er hath been, Constance, I have not left thee:There hath been nothing near thee, nothing like thee,Nothing but thee: and I return to find theeMore beautiful than ever ...Con.Pray you, sir,Remember.Ph.Let me speak.Con.When thou didst ask to speak,I looked for that one word, which thou in honour931Wert, to amend thy silence, bound to speak.’Twas in thy power to salve thy breach of faithWith full and free renouncement. Thine earlier illI had then forgiven: for if thou art not changed,Philip, I am: then I was ignorant—Maybe we both were—both mistook; but thouDidst add an injury, and to-day thou addestAnother worse. Knowing me now betrothed,How canst thou offer to renew thy love?940Ph.O, Constance, Manuel doth not, cannot, love theeAs I.Con.I pray he doth not.Ph.Hear me, Constance!Con.Nay, sir; no more.[Exit.Ph.My passion hath arousedPassion in her; and that must work for me.Is it likely such a temper would sit downAnd eat cold fare at Manuel’s feast of reason?She will be mine. Ay, tho’ she said betrothed—Once ’twas to me. So now to see her father;He’s but a market where I rule with ease.The papers! By heav’n, I had left them lying![Stoops.Ha!Blood! blood upon the floor! I have knelt in blood—951Here were an omen, were I superstitious.—And scarcely dry. This city hath fallen accurst.There is nothing spoke of ... Ah! but what if thisShould be the track they seek? PalicioTook shelter here! Impossible. Even BlascoThought not so ill of Manuel. Yet the otherUnder the wall, and this within the house ...They tally. Peace! I will go search the garden.[Exit.

In Manuel’s house. MARGARET and MANUEL meeting.

MARGARET.

Brother, what wilt thou say? Wilt thou forgive me?Hear me confess.

Brother, what wilt thou say? Wilt thou forgive me?

Hear me confess.

MANUEL.

What now, my mischief-maker?

Mar.I have seen Palicio.

Man.Hey! ’twas thy evil geniusLed thee that way.

Man.Hey! ’twas thy evil genius

Led thee that way.

Mar.I thinking him a woman,Offered some service: whereupon he told meWho he was, all his story, and of his wound.

Mar.I thinking him a woman,

Offered some service: whereupon he told me

Who he was, all his story, and of his wound.

Man.I am sorry; I should have warned thee, for the knowledgeMakes thee so far accomplice; and I know notHow ’twill be taken when ’tis known.

Man.I am sorry; I should have warned thee, for the knowledge

Makes thee so far accomplice; and I know not

How ’twill be taken when ’tis known.

830Mar.O, brother,Thou hast done nobly.

Mar.O, brother,

Thou hast done nobly.

Man.I will tell to theeMy motives.

Man.I will tell to thee

My motives.

Mar.Nay, I need no motives.

Man.Hear them.Palicio’s life is forfeit, for he has killedThree of his guards: but to the dangerous deedHe had provocation, such as I should holdClears him of crime: wherefore I take upon meTo force a loan of Justice while she sleeps,For fear a thief should rob her: to this, moreover,The claim of kinship binds me,—nay, be patient,840And hear me out.—Already our disordersHave been reported at the Spanish court;The enquiry set on foot will much endamageHugo’s good name: I doubt not we shall haveAnother viceroy, and the revolutionWill justify the movers.

Man.Hear them.

Palicio’s life is forfeit, for he has killed

Three of his guards: but to the dangerous deed

He had provocation, such as I should hold

Clears him of crime: wherefore I take upon me

To force a loan of Justice while she sleeps,

For fear a thief should rob her: to this, moreover,

The claim of kinship binds me,—nay, be patient,

And hear me out.—Already our disorders

Have been reported at the Spanish court;

The enquiry set on foot will much endamage

Hugo’s good name: I doubt not we shall have

Another viceroy, and the revolution

Will justify the movers.

Mar.Oh! all that,Be as it may, will never cure his wound.He needs a surgeon: we must find a surgeon.

Mar.Oh! all that,

Be as it may, will never cure his wound.

He needs a surgeon: we must find a surgeon.

Man.No: he must lie concealed till I procureHis pardon. His discovery now were death.

Man.No: he must lie concealed till I procure

His pardon. His discovery now were death.

Mar.But if I bring one secretly?

850Man.How secretly?Better cry down the streets the man is here:That might escape attention.

Man.How secretly?

Better cry down the streets the man is here:

That might escape attention.

Mar.I know a man.Have I not sometimes shewn thee certain sonnetsWrit in Sicilian speech?

Mar.I know a man.

Have I not sometimes shewn thee certain sonnets

Writ in Sicilian speech?

Man.Eh! Michael Rosso?

Mar.’Tis he. I think he’d love to do my biddingIn a more dangerous matter. Give me leave,I’ll bring him here to-night.

Mar.’Tis he. I think he’d love to do my bidding

In a more dangerous matter. Give me leave,

I’ll bring him here to-night.

Man.I had thought of him,But shrank from taxing his good-will. And yet—(Aside.) For his own sake ’twere kind ... and Margaret asks it ...860Secrets, they say, discover sympathies.—(Aloud.) Ay, ’tis well thought of.

Man.I had thought of him,

But shrank from taxing his good-will. And yet—

(Aside.) For his own sake ’twere kind ... and Margaret asks it ...

Secrets, they say, discover sympathies.—

(Aloud.) Ay, ’tis well thought of.

Mar.I can answer for him.

Man.I see. Yet there’s no cause why he should know.Escort him blindfold hither; let PalicioHave his face covered. Let him ask no questions:And when ’tis done convey him blindfold back.’Twere best he should not know.

Man.I see. Yet there’s no cause why he should know.

Escort him blindfold hither; let Palicio

Have his face covered. Let him ask no questions:

And when ’tis done convey him blindfold back.

’Twere best he should not know.

Mar.O, brother, I thank thee.

Man.Why, girl, thou’rt crazed.

Mar.May I not go at once?

Man.Nay, wait till dusk; and see, take here my seal,Since thou must go alone: ’twill be thy freedom870From any questionings of any people.Use all precautions, and impose on RossoSacredest secrecy: ’tis thou and heMust carry it thro’. Be careful.

Man.Nay, wait till dusk; and see, take here my seal,

Since thou must go alone: ’twill be thy freedom

From any questionings of any people.

Use all precautions, and impose on Rosso

Sacredest secrecy: ’tis thou and he

Must carry it thro’. Be careful.

Mar.I will put onSome common clothing, and disguise my face.I thank thee.[Exit.

Mar.I will put on

Some common clothing, and disguise my face.

I thank thee.[Exit.

Man.The girl’s in love. Now, bravo Rosso!I wish thee well. There’s not a purer spiritFleshed in all Sicily; nay, nor a manI’d sooner call brother. Why, ’twas my choice,Long urged in vain. That chanceth in an hour880Which comes not in nine years. ’Tis very true,Fancy resents all judgment, and another’sWill often kill it quite. Now, when I lookedRather for anything than my own wish,—heigh-ho!’Tis I that stand in the way. I must discourage it.

Man.The girl’s in love. Now, bravo Rosso!

I wish thee well. There’s not a purer spirit

Fleshed in all Sicily; nay, nor a man

I’d sooner call brother. Why, ’twas my choice,

Long urged in vain. That chanceth in an hour

Which comes not in nine years. ’Tis very true,

Fancy resents all judgment, and another’s

Will often kill it quite. Now, when I looked

Rather for anything than my own wish,—heigh-ho!

’Tis I that stand in the way. I must discourage it.

Enter Philip(with some papers).

Ah, Philip.

PHILIP.

Let me give you back the papers.I have read them.

Let me give you back the papers.

I have read them.

Man.Well?

Ph.The viceroy’s guilt is plain.Your purpose cannot be to press this count.

Ph.The viceroy’s guilt is plain.

Your purpose cannot be to press this count.

Man.If the complaints, which I have already made,Be quashed at court, I shall.

Man.If the complaints, which I have already made,

Be quashed at court, I shall.

Ph.’Tis peculation890So gross, ’twould ruin Hugo to expose it.Wished you to break with him,—yet his disgraceCannot be nothing to you: I should marvelYou had no associations, no affections,Shocked at the thought.

Ph.’Tis peculation

So gross, ’twould ruin Hugo to expose it.

Wished you to break with him,—yet his disgrace

Cannot be nothing to you: I should marvel

You had no associations, no affections,

Shocked at the thought.

Man.To interests manifoldAs manifest, Justice is blind. If SpainRemove not Hugo on the charges laid,I have shewn thee what’s to follow. Would you avert it,Press his dismissal. I must to the palace.Guard thou the papers for me till I am back.[Exit.

Man.To interests manifold

As manifest, Justice is blind. If Spain

Remove not Hugo on the charges laid,

I have shewn thee what’s to follow. Would you avert it,

Press his dismissal. I must to the palace.

Guard thou the papers for me till I am back.[Exit.

Ph.These papers are conviction. Blasco is right:901He loves not. That is clear; for he would ruinHer father. Then again my rivalryAvowed,—ay, if he had an ear, avowed,—He doth not see. So cold, how could he win her?Or wish to win her? She is mine.—And yet I would’Twere any man but Manuel. Ah! who comes?’Tis she. Now may I prove her.

Ph.These papers are conviction. Blasco is right:

He loves not. That is clear; for he would ruin

Her father. Then again my rivalry

Avowed,—ay, if he had an ear, avowed,—

He doth not see. So cold, how could he win her?

Or wish to win her? She is mine.—And yet I would

’Twere any man but Manuel. Ah! who comes?

’Tis she. Now may I prove her.

Enter Constance with Servant.

CONSTANCE(to servt.).

If she be not within, prithee enquire909Where she is gone. I will await thee here.

If she be not within, prithee enquire

Where she is gone. I will await thee here.

[Exit servt.

I have been most foolish. (Seeing Philip.) Philip!

Ph.Yes, ’tis I.Constance.

Ph.Yes, ’tis I.

Constance.

Con.What wouldst thou?

Ph.(kneeling).I entreat a favour,Which is to me the one boon in the world.

Ph.(kneeling).I entreat a favour,

Which is to me the one boon in the world.

Con.Rise, sir, what is’t?

Ph.That I may speak, nor leaveLove’s wound unhealed.

Ph.That I may speak, nor leave

Love’s wound unhealed.

Con.’Twere well to seal forgiveness,Companion of forgetfulness. Say, therefore.The few words that are due.

Con.’Twere well to seal forgiveness,

Companion of forgetfulness. Say, therefore.

The few words that are due.

Ph.Tho’ I repent,Repentance cannot own forgetfulness.It pleads forgiveness in the name of love.

Ph.Tho’ I repent,

Repentance cannot own forgetfulness.

It pleads forgiveness in the name of love.

Con.How in that name?

Ph.Constance, I love thee still.

Con.Sir!

920Ph.Oh! ’tis true ...Reproach me not, Constance: my evil lifeI have quite renounced. I used it but to learnThe wisdom of that other. I come backFrom folly and idleness and evil days.Whate’er hath been, Constance, I have not left thee:There hath been nothing near thee, nothing like thee,Nothing but thee: and I return to find theeMore beautiful than ever ...

Ph.Oh! ’tis true ...

Reproach me not, Constance: my evil life

I have quite renounced. I used it but to learn

The wisdom of that other. I come back

From folly and idleness and evil days.

Whate’er hath been, Constance, I have not left thee:

There hath been nothing near thee, nothing like thee,

Nothing but thee: and I return to find thee

More beautiful than ever ...

Con.Pray you, sir,Remember.

Con.Pray you, sir,

Remember.

Ph.Let me speak.

Con.When thou didst ask to speak,I looked for that one word, which thou in honour931Wert, to amend thy silence, bound to speak.’Twas in thy power to salve thy breach of faithWith full and free renouncement. Thine earlier illI had then forgiven: for if thou art not changed,Philip, I am: then I was ignorant—Maybe we both were—both mistook; but thouDidst add an injury, and to-day thou addestAnother worse. Knowing me now betrothed,How canst thou offer to renew thy love?

Con.When thou didst ask to speak,

I looked for that one word, which thou in honour

Wert, to amend thy silence, bound to speak.

’Twas in thy power to salve thy breach of faith

With full and free renouncement. Thine earlier ill

I had then forgiven: for if thou art not changed,

Philip, I am: then I was ignorant—

Maybe we both were—both mistook; but thou

Didst add an injury, and to-day thou addest

Another worse. Knowing me now betrothed,

How canst thou offer to renew thy love?

940Ph.O, Constance, Manuel doth not, cannot, love theeAs I.

Ph.O, Constance, Manuel doth not, cannot, love thee

As I.

Con.I pray he doth not.

Ph.Hear me, Constance!

Con.Nay, sir; no more.[Exit.

Ph.My passion hath arousedPassion in her; and that must work for me.Is it likely such a temper would sit downAnd eat cold fare at Manuel’s feast of reason?She will be mine. Ay, tho’ she said betrothed—Once ’twas to me. So now to see her father;He’s but a market where I rule with ease.The papers! By heav’n, I had left them lying![Stoops.Ha!Blood! blood upon the floor! I have knelt in blood—951Here were an omen, were I superstitious.—And scarcely dry. This city hath fallen accurst.There is nothing spoke of ... Ah! but what if thisShould be the track they seek? PalicioTook shelter here! Impossible. Even BlascoThought not so ill of Manuel. Yet the otherUnder the wall, and this within the house ...They tally. Peace! I will go search the garden.

Ph.My passion hath aroused

Passion in her; and that must work for me.

Is it likely such a temper would sit down

And eat cold fare at Manuel’s feast of reason?

She will be mine. Ay, tho’ she said betrothed—

Once ’twas to me. So now to see her father;

He’s but a market where I rule with ease.

The papers! By heav’n, I had left them lying![Stoops.

Ha!

Blood! blood upon the floor! I have knelt in blood—

Here were an omen, were I superstitious.—

And scarcely dry. This city hath fallen accurst.

There is nothing spoke of ... Ah! but what if this

Should be the track they seek? Palicio

Took shelter here! Impossible. Even Blasco

Thought not so ill of Manuel. Yet the other

Under the wall, and this within the house ...

They tally. Peace! I will go search the garden.

[Exit.

Room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO as before (sitting).PALICIO.To stand true to a cause because ’tis noble,960Tho’ it be thankless; to command a peopleAgainst a tyranny, and teach their armsTo enforce the reasonable rights of life,Beneath the crushing bond of wealth and power;—To be an outcast, but to leave a nameUntarnished and beloved, remembered long;—That was my choice, my hope. Can I now waver?Shall I—having so well begun—Step up into a throne above the throng,And smiling on them from the hated height,970Take life at ease? Nay, when ’tis reasoned so,’Tis hideous.—But, oh! thou treacherous enemy,Thou selfish and unanswerable passion,That bluntest resolution, and criest downThe voice of virtue! Margaret, Margaret!Would I had never seen thee, or believedI could not win thee. If I now could fly,I might go free.Squarcialupu, who has appeared at the window, gradually thrusting his head between the curtains, and peering round, enters.SQUARCIALUPU.Sq.Captain!Pal.Ha! Squarcialupu!Why, what! how com’st thou here? what dost thou?Sq.Hush!Pal.Begone, I pray.Sq.Nay, now I have found thee, captain.Thine arm is it only?Pal.A prick in the arm.980Sq.So, so!Then thou canst come.Pal.Tell me, how didst thou learnThat I was here?Sq.We guessed it from thy track.Pal.O, God! I’m tracked?Sq.Thy blood is on the wall.I undertook to tell thee. In the duskI scaled this window at the back of the house:Had my old luck, captain. Make haste and fly.Pal.Stay, stay! I cannot. Is it known to anyI am hiding here?Sq.What use to stay for that?Come ere they know it.Pal.I cannot.990Sq.I can help thee.Pal.Nay, ’tis not that, altho’ I am bled to death.’Tis honour holds me.Sq.Honour will not helpManuel nor thee, if they should search his house.But if thou fliest ...Pal.I may not.Sq.That’s no wordWhere life’s at stake. What shall I tell thy men?Pal.Where are they?Sq.At the news of thy escapeThey gathered on the hills, and wait thee there.I met a man in the town an hour ago,Who said he had seen thee riding on the road1000To Monreale. All the folk’s astir.Pal.I cannot come.Sq.Give me not such a word.Who would believe I had seen thee, if I saidPalicio lieth safe in Manuel’s house,And saith he cannot come?Pal.Begone, I bid thee,Lest thou be found here.Sq.Nay, I’ll not be gone.’Tis but some twenty feet: I’ll lift thee down.The street is watched.Pal.Hark, Squarcialupu, tell me;Is’t true I’m tracked?Sq.’Tis certain.Pal.Then I thinkIf Manuel knew of this ... Hark, I will come.1010Go thou and tell my men that I will come.To-morrow morning let them look to find meAt Monreale. If I come not thenLet none look for me more. But if I comeAll shall be well. Go thou and tell them this.Sq.Come, captain, while thou mayst.Pal.I bid thee go.Obey me at once.Sq.(whistles at window and is answered). I have thy promise.To-morrow we shall see thee.[Exit.Pal.But for this cursed woundI had fled. To cure it must I risk my soul?1019Fool that I was, had I escaped with himI might have found a surgeon—now when she comesI will say nothing. Nothing ... yet, that’s no hope;For seeing her I must love her: and if I failTo win her wholly, I must lose my soulShe is here. (Aside.) Ah! what is this?Enter Margaret, with Rosso blindfold.MARGARET(to Rosso).You now are in the room. Stand in your place.While I make ready. (To Pal.) Let me wrap this clothAbout thy face. Lie ever still, and speak not.(To Rosso.) Your eyes, sir, are at liberty.ROSSO(unbandaging).Coming hither,I thought ’twould make a pretty poem to tell1030Of one, whose cruel mistress ne’er allowedThe meanest favour, till he dreamed one nightThat he was blind, and she, in pity of him,Led him forth by the hand where he would go,But left him suddenly; whereat he awoke,And wished no more to see ...Mar.Now, sir Apollo, come. Here lies your patient.Give him your aid, and tell your poem after.Ros.Well, let us see. Ay, here is all I need.Set them thus on the table, and here the light,1040So. (arranging). ’Tis the right arm. (unbinding.) Ah! when was this done?Mar.Have you forgot, sir? questions are forbidden.Ros.See, thou must hold his arm for me. Press hereThy fingers; firmly,—so. Thou dost not faintAt sight of blood?Mar.Nay, nay. And yet I know not.If there be much, I faint.Ros.(operating).I had forgottenI might not question;—’tis a surgeon’s habit.—First,—for where all are eager with their tale,—’Tis only courteous to invite the telling:—But chiefly—that it stablishes his judgment—1050Built on appearances,—and banishesConjecture from experience;—as ’twould nowFor me,—should this man say,—’twas yesterdayThe wound was made;—and he that dealt it meStood on my left,—and thro’ my arm outstretched,—In attitude of striking at another,—Thrust with—a sword.—Stir not, ’tis nearly done.—But I withdrew my arm ere he his weapon.—Loose not thy grasp: loose not!Mar.Sir, my attentionWas taken by your story. Never speak:1060’Twill mar your work.Ros.’Tis a small thing. ’Tis done.’Twas an unlucky lunge that lanced thee there.(To Mar.) What thinkest thou of my story?Mar.’Twas but guessing.Ros.Nay, inference. ’Twere guess to say, the skillWhich staunched the running blood, but could no more,Might be thy brother’s: that this sunburnt arm,Fine skin, and youthful fibre, were the bodyOf John Palicio.Pal.(discovering). I am betrayed!Ros.Not so:Then had I held my tongue.Pal.True.—What’s thy name?Ros.My name is Rosso. Sling thine arm across:1070There must it rest until the wound be healed.Mar.You have guessed the secret, sir, which we withheldIn your respect. This is my brother’s house;This is Palicio. Guard now what you have learnedAs closely, I pray, as if we had freely told it.Ros.Not to thee, lady, though in this and allI am thy servant; yet not now to theeI speak, but to Giovànn Palicio;To whom I say he need not ask of mePromise or oath. The good I am proud to have doneI shall not spoil by blabbing.1080Pal.Thank thee, Rosso.Ros.Noble and brave Palicio, mayst thou prosper.[Bandaging his own eyes.Pal.Thank thee, I thank thee, Rosso. So now my armIs mended. By heaven! this surgery hath a trickWorth knowing, could one learn it easily.Ros.(blindfold). Come, lady, and lead me forth.Mar.Why, what is this?You know your way: there’s nothing now to hide.Ros.Didst thou not bargain with me to lead me back?Mar.But there’s no need.Ros.Yet will I claim my fee.Where is thy hand?Mar.Sir, you but trifle.Ros.And thouRefusest me in a trifle? Then I will dare (unbandaging)1091To raise my terms. If I may kiss thy handI’ll be content.Mar.’Tis I, sir, should kiss yours.’Tis that hath earned the homage: and I’ll be kind.That hath done well; and thus I kiss it. (Kisses Rosso’s hand.) Now,Go, go in peace: thou’rt paid.[Making him go out.[Exit Rosso.Pal.(sitting).Why didst thou that?Mar.He loves me.Pal.Wouldst thou be as kind to me,If I should love thee?Mar.But he sends me sonnets.Pal.I could write sonnets.Mar.Ah, but his are writIn pure Sicilian.Pal.’Tis my proper tongue.1100Mar.I have kept my promise, sir, and now must leave.Your wound is healed.Pal.I fear I scarce can thank thee,If ’tis thy word to go. Or, if thou stayestBut to cure wounds,—I have another woundI shewed thee not, which hath a deeper seat:This hand may cure it.Mar.Nay, what mean you, sir?Pal.Margaret, I love thee. There, thou hast it all.Thou hast stolen my soul. I thought—my pride, my hope—O, I thought wrong—’tis nothing. All I have done,Or would do, I cast aside: I love thee only.1010Mar.Giovanni.Pal.O, ’tis true, there’s nothing noble,Beautiful, sacred, dear, familiar to me,I hold now at a straw’s worth: body and soulI am thine, Margaret, I am thine. O, answer me!Mar.Giovanni, ’tis so strange. ’Tis best I go.Pal.Thou didst kiss Rosso’s hand.Mar.For love of thee.Didst thou not guess?Pal.O, then, my dearest, kiss meNow for myself. Can it be true thou lovest me?Mar.Alas! ’tis learned too quickly.Pal.Can I think it,Spite of my savage life, my outlawry,My poverty?Mar.O, what are these?1120Pal.Indeed,My blood is noble.Mar.These are not the checksOr lures of love. Nay, what is noble blood?What were’t to be a lion, and to flyThe hunter like a hare? And if man shewLess fearless fierce and hungry for the rightThan doth a beast for food, what is his titleTo be God’s image worth? That best nobilityHath no more claim.Pal.But canst thou share my life?Mar.I am restless for it.Pal.Leave thy rank? thy wealth?Mar.I have lived too long that counterfeit of life.I’ll strive like thee: something I’ll do, like thee,1132To lessen misery. Nay, if man’s curseHang in necessity, I have the heartTo combat that, and find if in some partFate be not vulnerable.Pal.O joy, my dearest:I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thoughtThat thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?Mar.There’s none can hinder it.Pal.O, blessed joy!Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,1140Finding the word so easy, what a mountainThere lies to lift? Pledging to me and mineThy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stingsWill plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.Mar.Try me, Giovanni.Pal.Wilt thou aid me, love,To fly to-night? By morning I may meetMy men at San Martino: all my schemesMay yet be saved.Mar.Ah! wilt thou go, Giovanni?Thou’rt yet too weak.Pal.My presence, not my strength,Is needed.Mar.Alas! I fear.Pal.What, Margaret, dost thou fear?Mar.Only for thee. Yet go; I can be with thee1151By noon. My brother has a little houseAt Monreale, where I am used to stayWhen the wish takes me. There I’ll go to-morrow,And thence can visit thee. Thou didst not meanI should not come? I shall not hinder thee.Pal.Nay, nay.Mar.I’ll let thee from the house to-night,And give thee money which will aid thee well.My brother need know nothing. I can makeThe journey thither in an hour, and chooseMy time to beg his grace.1160Pal.What do I owe thee!Freedom, and life, and love,—thy love ... O, Margaret,What I shall do will pay thee.Mar.I must leave:For Manuel else will question of my stay.Pal.My treasure lost so soon!Mar.I go to saveWhat we have won. Farewell.Pal.Say at what hourI may go hence; and how.Mar.At dead of night:’Tis safest then.Pal.And wilt thou come thyself?Mar.When the church bell with double stroke hath tolledThe death-knell of to-morrow’s second hour,1170While its last jar yet shelters in the ear,Listen: and at thy door when thou shalt catchA small and wakeful noise, such as is madeBy the sharp teeth of an unventurous mouse,Scraping his scanty feast when all is still,Come forth. Thou’lt meet my hand, and at the gateI’ll give thee what I have. Tied in thy bundleWill be a letter shewing thee the placeWhere thou must send me tidings. Now, farewell.Pal.Yet not farewell.Mar.To-night I shall not see thee:1180Nor must thou speak. So, till to-morrow’s sunLasts our farewell.Pal.Then with to-morrow, Margaret,My life begins.Mar.O, ’tis the greater joyFor me than thee.Pal.Ay, for the giver everHath the best share. And thus I kiss thee, love.Farewell.Mar.Be ready.Pal.Trust me.Mar.And take thy dagger.Farewell.[Going.

Room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO as before (sitting).

PALICIO.

To stand true to a cause because ’tis noble,960Tho’ it be thankless; to command a peopleAgainst a tyranny, and teach their armsTo enforce the reasonable rights of life,Beneath the crushing bond of wealth and power;—To be an outcast, but to leave a nameUntarnished and beloved, remembered long;—That was my choice, my hope. Can I now waver?Shall I—having so well begun—Step up into a throne above the throng,And smiling on them from the hated height,970Take life at ease? Nay, when ’tis reasoned so,’Tis hideous.—But, oh! thou treacherous enemy,Thou selfish and unanswerable passion,That bluntest resolution, and criest downThe voice of virtue! Margaret, Margaret!Would I had never seen thee, or believedI could not win thee. If I now could fly,I might go free.

To stand true to a cause because ’tis noble,

Tho’ it be thankless; to command a people

Against a tyranny, and teach their arms

To enforce the reasonable rights of life,

Beneath the crushing bond of wealth and power;—

To be an outcast, but to leave a name

Untarnished and beloved, remembered long;—

That was my choice, my hope. Can I now waver?

Shall I—having so well begun—

Step up into a throne above the throng,

And smiling on them from the hated height,

Take life at ease? Nay, when ’tis reasoned so,

’Tis hideous.—But, oh! thou treacherous enemy,

Thou selfish and unanswerable passion,

That bluntest resolution, and criest down

The voice of virtue! Margaret, Margaret!

Would I had never seen thee, or believed

I could not win thee. If I now could fly,

I might go free.

Squarcialupu, who has appeared at the window, gradually thrusting his head between the curtains, and peering round, enters.

SQUARCIALUPU.

Sq.Captain!Pal.Ha! Squarcialupu!Why, what! how com’st thou here? what dost thou?

Sq.Captain!

Pal.Ha! Squarcialupu!

Why, what! how com’st thou here? what dost thou?

Sq.Hush!

Pal.Begone, I pray.

Sq.Nay, now I have found thee, captain.Thine arm is it only?

Sq.Nay, now I have found thee, captain.

Thine arm is it only?

Pal.A prick in the arm.

980Sq.So, so!Then thou canst come.

Sq.So, so!

Then thou canst come.

Pal.Tell me, how didst thou learnThat I was here?

Pal.Tell me, how didst thou learn

That I was here?

Sq.We guessed it from thy track.

Pal.O, God! I’m tracked?

Sq.Thy blood is on the wall.I undertook to tell thee. In the duskI scaled this window at the back of the house:Had my old luck, captain. Make haste and fly.

Sq.Thy blood is on the wall.

I undertook to tell thee. In the dusk

I scaled this window at the back of the house:

Had my old luck, captain. Make haste and fly.

Pal.Stay, stay! I cannot. Is it known to anyI am hiding here?

Pal.Stay, stay! I cannot. Is it known to any

I am hiding here?

Sq.What use to stay for that?Come ere they know it.

Sq.What use to stay for that?

Come ere they know it.

Pal.I cannot.

990Sq.I can help thee.

Sq.I can help thee.

Pal.Nay, ’tis not that, altho’ I am bled to death.’Tis honour holds me.

Pal.Nay, ’tis not that, altho’ I am bled to death.

’Tis honour holds me.

Sq.Honour will not helpManuel nor thee, if they should search his house.But if thou fliest ...

Sq.Honour will not help

Manuel nor thee, if they should search his house.

But if thou fliest ...

Pal.I may not.

Sq.That’s no wordWhere life’s at stake. What shall I tell thy men?

Sq.That’s no word

Where life’s at stake. What shall I tell thy men?

Pal.Where are they?

Sq.At the news of thy escapeThey gathered on the hills, and wait thee there.I met a man in the town an hour ago,Who said he had seen thee riding on the road1000To Monreale. All the folk’s astir.

Sq.At the news of thy escape

They gathered on the hills, and wait thee there.

I met a man in the town an hour ago,

Who said he had seen thee riding on the road

To Monreale. All the folk’s astir.

Pal.I cannot come.

Sq.Give me not such a word.Who would believe I had seen thee, if I saidPalicio lieth safe in Manuel’s house,And saith he cannot come?

Sq.Give me not such a word.

Who would believe I had seen thee, if I said

Palicio lieth safe in Manuel’s house,

And saith he cannot come?

Pal.Begone, I bid thee,Lest thou be found here.

Pal.Begone, I bid thee,

Lest thou be found here.

Sq.Nay, I’ll not be gone.’Tis but some twenty feet: I’ll lift thee down.The street is watched.

Sq.Nay, I’ll not be gone.

’Tis but some twenty feet: I’ll lift thee down.

The street is watched.

Pal.Hark, Squarcialupu, tell me;Is’t true I’m tracked?

Pal.Hark, Squarcialupu, tell me;

Is’t true I’m tracked?

Sq.’Tis certain.

Pal.Then I thinkIf Manuel knew of this ... Hark, I will come.1010Go thou and tell my men that I will come.To-morrow morning let them look to find meAt Monreale. If I come not thenLet none look for me more. But if I comeAll shall be well. Go thou and tell them this.

Pal.Then I think

If Manuel knew of this ... Hark, I will come.

Go thou and tell my men that I will come.

To-morrow morning let them look to find me

At Monreale. If I come not then

Let none look for me more. But if I come

All shall be well. Go thou and tell them this.

Sq.Come, captain, while thou mayst.

Pal.I bid thee go.Obey me at once.

Pal.I bid thee go.

Obey me at once.

Sq.(whistles at window and is answered). I have thy promise.To-morrow we shall see thee.[Exit.

Sq.(whistles at window and is answered). I have thy promise.

To-morrow we shall see thee.[Exit.

Pal.But for this cursed woundI had fled. To cure it must I risk my soul?1019Fool that I was, had I escaped with himI might have found a surgeon—now when she comesI will say nothing. Nothing ... yet, that’s no hope;For seeing her I must love her: and if I failTo win her wholly, I must lose my soulShe is here. (Aside.) Ah! what is this?

Pal.But for this cursed wound

I had fled. To cure it must I risk my soul?

Fool that I was, had I escaped with him

I might have found a surgeon—now when she comes

I will say nothing. Nothing ... yet, that’s no hope;

For seeing her I must love her: and if I fail

To win her wholly, I must lose my soul

She is here. (Aside.) Ah! what is this?

Enter Margaret, with Rosso blindfold.

MARGARET(to Rosso).

You now are in the room. Stand in your place.While I make ready. (To Pal.) Let me wrap this clothAbout thy face. Lie ever still, and speak not.(To Rosso.) Your eyes, sir, are at liberty.

You now are in the room. Stand in your place.

While I make ready. (To Pal.) Let me wrap this cloth

About thy face. Lie ever still, and speak not.

(To Rosso.) Your eyes, sir, are at liberty.

ROSSO(unbandaging).

Coming hither,I thought ’twould make a pretty poem to tell1030Of one, whose cruel mistress ne’er allowedThe meanest favour, till he dreamed one nightThat he was blind, and she, in pity of him,Led him forth by the hand where he would go,But left him suddenly; whereat he awoke,And wished no more to see ...

Coming hither,

I thought ’twould make a pretty poem to tell

Of one, whose cruel mistress ne’er allowed

The meanest favour, till he dreamed one night

That he was blind, and she, in pity of him,

Led him forth by the hand where he would go,

But left him suddenly; whereat he awoke,

And wished no more to see ...

Mar.Now, sir Apollo, come. Here lies your patient.Give him your aid, and tell your poem after.

Mar.Now, sir Apollo, come. Here lies your patient.

Give him your aid, and tell your poem after.

Ros.Well, let us see. Ay, here is all I need.Set them thus on the table, and here the light,1040So. (arranging). ’Tis the right arm. (unbinding.) Ah! when was this done?

Ros.Well, let us see. Ay, here is all I need.

Set them thus on the table, and here the light,

So. (arranging). ’Tis the right arm. (unbinding.) Ah! when was this done?

Mar.Have you forgot, sir? questions are forbidden.

Ros.See, thou must hold his arm for me. Press hereThy fingers; firmly,—so. Thou dost not faintAt sight of blood?

Ros.See, thou must hold his arm for me. Press here

Thy fingers; firmly,—so. Thou dost not faint

At sight of blood?

Mar.Nay, nay. And yet I know not.If there be much, I faint.

Mar.Nay, nay. And yet I know not.

If there be much, I faint.

Ros.(operating).I had forgottenI might not question;—’tis a surgeon’s habit.—First,—for where all are eager with their tale,—’Tis only courteous to invite the telling:—But chiefly—that it stablishes his judgment—1050Built on appearances,—and banishesConjecture from experience;—as ’twould nowFor me,—should this man say,—’twas yesterdayThe wound was made;—and he that dealt it meStood on my left,—and thro’ my arm outstretched,—In attitude of striking at another,—Thrust with—a sword.—Stir not, ’tis nearly done.—But I withdrew my arm ere he his weapon.—Loose not thy grasp: loose not!

Ros.(operating).I had forgotten

I might not question;—’tis a surgeon’s habit.—

First,—for where all are eager with their tale,—

’Tis only courteous to invite the telling:—

But chiefly—that it stablishes his judgment—

Built on appearances,—and banishes

Conjecture from experience;—as ’twould now

For me,—should this man say,—’twas yesterday

The wound was made;—and he that dealt it me

Stood on my left,—and thro’ my arm outstretched,—

In attitude of striking at another,—

Thrust with—a sword.—Stir not, ’tis nearly done.—

But I withdrew my arm ere he his weapon.—

Loose not thy grasp: loose not!

Mar.Sir, my attentionWas taken by your story. Never speak:1060’Twill mar your work.

Mar.Sir, my attention

Was taken by your story. Never speak:

’Twill mar your work.

Ros.’Tis a small thing. ’Tis done.’Twas an unlucky lunge that lanced thee there.(To Mar.) What thinkest thou of my story?

Ros.’Tis a small thing. ’Tis done.

’Twas an unlucky lunge that lanced thee there.

(To Mar.) What thinkest thou of my story?

Mar.’Twas but guessing.

Ros.Nay, inference. ’Twere guess to say, the skillWhich staunched the running blood, but could no more,Might be thy brother’s: that this sunburnt arm,Fine skin, and youthful fibre, were the bodyOf John Palicio.

Ros.Nay, inference. ’Twere guess to say, the skill

Which staunched the running blood, but could no more,

Might be thy brother’s: that this sunburnt arm,

Fine skin, and youthful fibre, were the body

Of John Palicio.

Pal.(discovering). I am betrayed!

Ros.Not so:Then had I held my tongue.

Ros.Not so:

Then had I held my tongue.

Pal.True.—What’s thy name?

Ros.My name is Rosso. Sling thine arm across:1070There must it rest until the wound be healed.

Ros.My name is Rosso. Sling thine arm across:

There must it rest until the wound be healed.

Mar.You have guessed the secret, sir, which we withheldIn your respect. This is my brother’s house;This is Palicio. Guard now what you have learnedAs closely, I pray, as if we had freely told it.

Mar.You have guessed the secret, sir, which we withheld

In your respect. This is my brother’s house;

This is Palicio. Guard now what you have learned

As closely, I pray, as if we had freely told it.

Ros.Not to thee, lady, though in this and allI am thy servant; yet not now to theeI speak, but to Giovànn Palicio;To whom I say he need not ask of mePromise or oath. The good I am proud to have doneI shall not spoil by blabbing.

Ros.Not to thee, lady, though in this and all

I am thy servant; yet not now to thee

I speak, but to Giovànn Palicio;

To whom I say he need not ask of me

Promise or oath. The good I am proud to have done

I shall not spoil by blabbing.

1080Pal.Thank thee, Rosso.

Pal.Thank thee, Rosso.

Ros.Noble and brave Palicio, mayst thou prosper.

[Bandaging his own eyes.

Pal.Thank thee, I thank thee, Rosso. So now my armIs mended. By heaven! this surgery hath a trickWorth knowing, could one learn it easily.

Pal.Thank thee, I thank thee, Rosso. So now my arm

Is mended. By heaven! this surgery hath a trick

Worth knowing, could one learn it easily.

Ros.(blindfold). Come, lady, and lead me forth.

Mar.Why, what is this?You know your way: there’s nothing now to hide.

Mar.Why, what is this?

You know your way: there’s nothing now to hide.

Ros.Didst thou not bargain with me to lead me back?

Mar.But there’s no need.

Ros.Yet will I claim my fee.Where is thy hand?

Ros.Yet will I claim my fee.

Where is thy hand?

Mar.Sir, you but trifle.

Ros.And thouRefusest me in a trifle? Then I will dare (unbandaging)1091To raise my terms. If I may kiss thy handI’ll be content.

Ros.And thou

Refusest me in a trifle? Then I will dare (unbandaging)

To raise my terms. If I may kiss thy hand

I’ll be content.

Mar.’Tis I, sir, should kiss yours.’Tis that hath earned the homage: and I’ll be kind.That hath done well; and thus I kiss it. (Kisses Rosso’s hand.) Now,Go, go in peace: thou’rt paid.[Making him go out.

Mar.’Tis I, sir, should kiss yours.

’Tis that hath earned the homage: and I’ll be kind.

That hath done well; and thus I kiss it. (Kisses Rosso’s hand.) Now,

Go, go in peace: thou’rt paid.[Making him go out.

[Exit Rosso.

Pal.(sitting).Why didst thou that?

Mar.He loves me.

Pal.Wouldst thou be as kind to me,If I should love thee?

Pal.Wouldst thou be as kind to me,

If I should love thee?

Mar.But he sends me sonnets.

Pal.I could write sonnets.

Mar.Ah, but his are writIn pure Sicilian.

Mar.Ah, but his are writ

In pure Sicilian.

Pal.’Tis my proper tongue.

1100Mar.I have kept my promise, sir, and now must leave.Your wound is healed.

Mar.I have kept my promise, sir, and now must leave.

Your wound is healed.

Pal.I fear I scarce can thank thee,If ’tis thy word to go. Or, if thou stayestBut to cure wounds,—I have another woundI shewed thee not, which hath a deeper seat:This hand may cure it.

Pal.I fear I scarce can thank thee,

If ’tis thy word to go. Or, if thou stayest

But to cure wounds,—I have another wound

I shewed thee not, which hath a deeper seat:

This hand may cure it.

Mar.Nay, what mean you, sir?

Pal.Margaret, I love thee. There, thou hast it all.Thou hast stolen my soul. I thought—my pride, my hope—O, I thought wrong—’tis nothing. All I have done,Or would do, I cast aside: I love thee only.

Pal.Margaret, I love thee. There, thou hast it all.

Thou hast stolen my soul. I thought—my pride, my hope—

O, I thought wrong—’tis nothing. All I have done,

Or would do, I cast aside: I love thee only.

1010Mar.Giovanni.

Mar.Giovanni.

Pal.O, ’tis true, there’s nothing noble,Beautiful, sacred, dear, familiar to me,I hold now at a straw’s worth: body and soulI am thine, Margaret, I am thine. O, answer me!

Pal.O, ’tis true, there’s nothing noble,

Beautiful, sacred, dear, familiar to me,

I hold now at a straw’s worth: body and soul

I am thine, Margaret, I am thine. O, answer me!

Mar.Giovanni, ’tis so strange. ’Tis best I go.

Pal.Thou didst kiss Rosso’s hand.

Mar.For love of thee.Didst thou not guess?

Mar.For love of thee.

Didst thou not guess?

Pal.O, then, my dearest, kiss meNow for myself. Can it be true thou lovest me?

Pal.O, then, my dearest, kiss me

Now for myself. Can it be true thou lovest me?

Mar.Alas! ’tis learned too quickly.

Pal.Can I think it,Spite of my savage life, my outlawry,My poverty?

Pal.Can I think it,

Spite of my savage life, my outlawry,

My poverty?

Mar.O, what are these?

1120Pal.Indeed,My blood is noble.

Pal.Indeed,

My blood is noble.

Mar.These are not the checksOr lures of love. Nay, what is noble blood?What were’t to be a lion, and to flyThe hunter like a hare? And if man shewLess fearless fierce and hungry for the rightThan doth a beast for food, what is his titleTo be God’s image worth? That best nobilityHath no more claim.

Mar.These are not the checks

Or lures of love. Nay, what is noble blood?

What were’t to be a lion, and to fly

The hunter like a hare? And if man shew

Less fearless fierce and hungry for the right

Than doth a beast for food, what is his title

To be God’s image worth? That best nobility

Hath no more claim.

Pal.But canst thou share my life?

Mar.I am restless for it.

Pal.Leave thy rank? thy wealth?

Mar.I have lived too long that counterfeit of life.I’ll strive like thee: something I’ll do, like thee,1132To lessen misery. Nay, if man’s curseHang in necessity, I have the heartTo combat that, and find if in some partFate be not vulnerable.

Mar.I have lived too long that counterfeit of life.

I’ll strive like thee: something I’ll do, like thee,

To lessen misery. Nay, if man’s curse

Hang in necessity, I have the heart

To combat that, and find if in some part

Fate be not vulnerable.

Pal.O joy, my dearest:I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thoughtThat thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?

Pal.O joy, my dearest:

I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thought

That thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?

Mar.There’s none can hinder it.

Pal.O, blessed joy!Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,1140Finding the word so easy, what a mountainThere lies to lift? Pledging to me and mineThy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stingsWill plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.

Pal.O, blessed joy!

Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,

Finding the word so easy, what a mountain

There lies to lift? Pledging to me and mine

Thy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stings

Will plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.

Mar.Try me, Giovanni.

Pal.Wilt thou aid me, love,To fly to-night? By morning I may meetMy men at San Martino: all my schemesMay yet be saved.

Pal.Wilt thou aid me, love,

To fly to-night? By morning I may meet

My men at San Martino: all my schemes

May yet be saved.

Mar.Ah! wilt thou go, Giovanni?Thou’rt yet too weak.

Mar.Ah! wilt thou go, Giovanni?

Thou’rt yet too weak.

Pal.My presence, not my strength,Is needed.

Pal.My presence, not my strength,

Is needed.

Mar.Alas! I fear.

Pal.What, Margaret, dost thou fear?

Mar.Only for thee. Yet go; I can be with thee1151By noon. My brother has a little houseAt Monreale, where I am used to stayWhen the wish takes me. There I’ll go to-morrow,And thence can visit thee. Thou didst not meanI should not come? I shall not hinder thee.

Mar.Only for thee. Yet go; I can be with thee

By noon. My brother has a little house

At Monreale, where I am used to stay

When the wish takes me. There I’ll go to-morrow,

And thence can visit thee. Thou didst not mean

I should not come? I shall not hinder thee.

Pal.Nay, nay.

Mar.I’ll let thee from the house to-night,And give thee money which will aid thee well.My brother need know nothing. I can makeThe journey thither in an hour, and chooseMy time to beg his grace.

Mar.I’ll let thee from the house to-night,

And give thee money which will aid thee well.

My brother need know nothing. I can make

The journey thither in an hour, and choose

My time to beg his grace.

1160Pal.What do I owe thee!Freedom, and life, and love,—thy love ... O, Margaret,What I shall do will pay thee.

Pal.What do I owe thee!

Freedom, and life, and love,—thy love ... O, Margaret,

What I shall do will pay thee.

Mar.I must leave:For Manuel else will question of my stay.

Mar.I must leave:

For Manuel else will question of my stay.

Pal.My treasure lost so soon!

Mar.I go to saveWhat we have won. Farewell.

Mar.I go to save

What we have won. Farewell.

Pal.Say at what hourI may go hence; and how.

Pal.Say at what hour

I may go hence; and how.

Mar.At dead of night:’Tis safest then.

Mar.At dead of night:

’Tis safest then.

Pal.And wilt thou come thyself?

Mar.When the church bell with double stroke hath tolledThe death-knell of to-morrow’s second hour,1170While its last jar yet shelters in the ear,Listen: and at thy door when thou shalt catchA small and wakeful noise, such as is madeBy the sharp teeth of an unventurous mouse,Scraping his scanty feast when all is still,Come forth. Thou’lt meet my hand, and at the gateI’ll give thee what I have. Tied in thy bundleWill be a letter shewing thee the placeWhere thou must send me tidings. Now, farewell.

Mar.When the church bell with double stroke hath tolled

The death-knell of to-morrow’s second hour,

While its last jar yet shelters in the ear,

Listen: and at thy door when thou shalt catch

A small and wakeful noise, such as is made

By the sharp teeth of an unventurous mouse,

Scraping his scanty feast when all is still,

Come forth. Thou’lt meet my hand, and at the gate

I’ll give thee what I have. Tied in thy bundle

Will be a letter shewing thee the place

Where thou must send me tidings. Now, farewell.

Pal.Yet not farewell.

Mar.To-night I shall not see thee:1180Nor must thou speak. So, till to-morrow’s sunLasts our farewell.

Mar.To-night I shall not see thee:

Nor must thou speak. So, till to-morrow’s sun

Lasts our farewell.

Pal.Then with to-morrow, Margaret,My life begins.

Pal.Then with to-morrow, Margaret,

My life begins.

Mar.O, ’tis the greater joyFor me than thee.

Mar.O, ’tis the greater joy

For me than thee.

Pal.Ay, for the giver everHath the best share. And thus I kiss thee, love.Farewell.

Pal.Ay, for the giver ever

Hath the best share. And thus I kiss thee, love.

Farewell.

Mar.Be ready.

Pal.Trust me.

Mar.And take thy dagger.Farewell.[Going.

Mar.And take thy dagger.

Farewell.[Going.

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