FULVIA: Our plans grow to fulfilment--are
No way misplanted?
CAPTAIN: Lady, all seems now
Seasonable for their expected fruit.
FULVIA: No accident appears to threat and thwart them?
CAPTAIN: Doubt not a fullest harvest of your hope.
The duke himself shall for this deed at last
Have benediction.
FULVIA: May it be! He's quick,
Though quicker in forgetting. I will move
Him as I may.
CAPTAIN: The kind and wise assaults
Your words shall make must move him, gracious lady.
_Enter HAEMON._
HAEMON: I seek the duke.
FULVIA (_dismissing CAPTAIN with a gesture_):
You would seek penitence
Were you less far in folly.
HAEMON (_as going_): O--if he's
Not here, then----
FULVIA: Sorrow too would strain your lips,
Not cold defiance.
HAEMON: Pardon: if you know,
Where is he?
FULVIA: Was it easy to o'erwhelm
Under the ruin of her dreams a sister?
HAEMON: Better beneath her dreams than under shame.
FULVIA: Your rashness cloaks itself in that excuse,
Your ruth, and your suspicion that has doomed
One innocent.
HAEMON: One innocent! His thought
Had but betrayal for her!
FULVIA: 'Tis the Greek
In you avows it, no true voice.
HAEMON: Then 'tis
My father murdered whose last moan I hear
Driven about me in this castle's gray
Cold spaces. And the dead speak not to lie.
FULVIA: No, no. You cannot brave your action with
The spur of that belief.
HAEMON: What want you of me?
FULVIA: This: ache and restlessness are on you.
HAEMON (_impatiently_): No.
FULVIA: And doubt begins in you that as a wolf
Will scent the wounded quarry of your conscience.
HAEMON: After he lured and wooed her under night
And secrecy?
FULVIA: Not running there will you
Escape its dread pursuit.
HAEMON: He frauded--duped
His father's trust!
FULVIA: Or there! But one refuge
Have you against its bitter ceaseless tooth,
And that above the wilds of self-deceit.
HAEMON: Why do you wind so sinuously about me?
No refuge can be from an hour that's done.
Shall we invert the glass or tilt the dial
To bring it back?
FULVIA: But if there were?
HAEMON: Where is
The duke--I will not bauble.
FULVIA: If there were?
HAEMON: I will no longer listen to the worm,
You set to feed upon me--torturing!
The sun melts to an end, and with the night
Antonio will not be.
FULVIA: Yet there is time.
HAEMON: The duke is fixed.
FULVIA: No matter: 'gainst the swell
And power of this peril you must lean.