SCENE.--_A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace.
Porch and entrance of Chapel, R. A semicircular
balcony, L., with balustrade and marble seats, and an
opening whence a flight of steps leads down to the
city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace;
from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is
seen a straight stretch of a canal; beyond the canal are
sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains,
L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the
coast._
_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country
folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the
Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_
_the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the
service of the Mass._
_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._
_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass.
Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room!
Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools!
_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room!
[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._
_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell!
[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._
Could ye not leave, this day of all the year,
Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas?
Could ye not leave, this once in seven years,
Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass.
Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart,
To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze.
Draws home her lord the Duke?
_Crowd._ Long live the Duke!
_Cesario._ The devil, then! Why darken his approach?
_Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his
viol)._ Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves
and fools have in common--to stand in their own
light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That
knave, now--he with the red nose and the black
eye--the Duke's colours, loyal man!--you clap
an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not
down in the city, hanging them out of window!
Go to: you are a soldier!
_Cesario._ And you a Fool, and on your own showing
stand in your own light.
_Gamba._ Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a
Fool. So should myself stand between the sun
and my shadow; whereas I am not myself--these
seven years have I been but the shadow of a
Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke.
_(Strikes his viol and sings.)_
"Bird of the South, my Rondinello----"
Flat-Flat!
_Cesario (calling up to watchman on the Chapel roof)._ Ho there! What news?
_A Voice._ Captain, no sail!
_Cesario._ Where sits
The wind?
_Voice._ Nor' west, and north a point!
_Cesario._ Perchance
They have down'd sail and creep around the flats.
_Gamba (tuning his viol)._ Flats, flats! the straight horizon, and the life
These seven years laid by rule! The curst canal
Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand
And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd!
Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat,
Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme--
Brooks at my feet, high glittering snows above.
What were thy music, viol, without a ridge?
[_Noise of commotion in the city below._
_Cesario_. Watchman, what news?
_A Voice_. Sir, on the sea no sail!
_One of the Crowd_. But through the town below a horseman spurs--
I think, Count Lucio! Yes--Count Lucio!
He nears, draws rein, dismounts!
_Cesario_. Sure, he brings news.
_Gamba_. I think he brings word the Duke is sick;
his loyal folk have drunk so much of his
health.
[_A murmur has been growing in the town below. It
breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes springing
up to the terrace._
_Enter Lucio._
_Lucio._ News! Where's the Regent? Eh? is Mass not said?
Cesario, news! I rode across the dunes;
A pilot--Nestore--you know the man--
Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point!
That's not a galley lost!
_Crowd._ Long live the Duke!
_Lucio._ Hark to the tocsin! I have carried fire--
Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind--
[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but
pauses at the sound of chanting within, and
comes back to Cesario._
Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame
Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare
Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes,
Believe!
_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long.
_Lucio._ As tapestry
Pricked out by women's needles; point-device
As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab,
Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues!
_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter?
_Lucio._ P'st! another lie
Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train
Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario,
My sister is a saint--and yet she married:
Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers,
Stick but to business in this naughty world!
Ah, well! the Duke comes home.
_Cesario._ And what of that?
_Lucio._ Release!
_Cesario._ Release?
_Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats
Deliver us, Good Lord!
_Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_
_Cesario._ Count Lucio,
These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed,
You were a child--a pretty, forward boy;
And I a young lieutenant of the Guard,
Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather,
I clenched my nails over an inward wound:
For that a something manlier than my years--
Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd,
Condemned me to promotion: I must bide
At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt,
But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed!
And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity,
Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir,
I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob--
Uptore my rooted sight--
There, there she stood;
Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe
Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed--
But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine;
So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!--
Reached me her hands to kiss ...
O royal hands!
What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell.
But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio--
Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me.
_Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister!
_Cesario._ 'But the court
Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers
Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?'
Yet if the money husbanded on feasts
Have fed our soldiery against the Turk,
Year after year, and still the State not starved;
Was't not well done? And if, responsible
To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God
Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?--
And well, though weary?
_Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister!
_Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio,
You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow,
Two hours ago I called on her and laid her
Under arrest.
_Lucio._ The devil! For what?
_Cesario._ For that
A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills
To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize
His dutiful return by shutting doors
And hanging out a ladder made of rope,
Or prove its safety by rehearsing it
Upon a heavier man.
_Lucio._ I'll go to her.
Oh, this is infamous!
_Cesario._ Nay, be advised:
No hardship irks the lady, save to sit
At home and feed her sparrows; nor no worse
Annoy than from her balcony to spy
(Should the eye rove) a Switzer of the Guard
At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch
And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit.
_Lucio._ Infamous! infamous!
_Cesario._ Enough, my lord:
The Regent!
[_Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds,
with voices of choir chanting the recessional.
The Court enters from Mass, attending the
Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She wears
a crown and heavy dalmatic. Her brother
Lucio, controlling himself with an effort, kisses
her hand and conducts her to the marble bench,
which serves for her Chair of State. She bows,
receiving the homage of the crowd; but, after
seating herself, appears for a few moments unconscious
of her surroundings. Then, as her
rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily
at her feet, she speaks._
_Regent._ So slips the chain linking this world with Heaven,
And drops me back to earth: so slips the chain
That hangs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross
Above pollution in the pure swept air
Whereunder frets this hive: so slips the chain--
_(She starts up)_--God! the dear sound! Was that his anchor dropped?
Speak to the watchman, one! Call to the watch!
What news?
_Cesario._ Aloft! What news?
_Voice above._ No sail as yet!
_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day,
And play false airs invented by the wind.
Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ...
_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see--
Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_
_Regent._ What chants the Fool?
_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle
Made by a silly poet on wives that stand
All night at windows listening the surf--
_Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_
_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news!
I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell
Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail,
And nearing fast!
_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio!
[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's
hand and speaks, petting it._
What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you.
But for yourself the hour, too, holds release.
_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at
Cesario)._ "Release?"
_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need
To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack
In guardianship, and by so much betrayed
My promise to our mother's passing soul.
Myself in cares immersed, I left the child
Among his toys--and turn to find him man--
But yet so much a boy that boyhood can
_(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio!
Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped
No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport,
Be playmates and invent new games, and old--
Wreath flowers for crowns--
[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him
wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the
Guard._
Cesario,
What are the suits?
_Cesario._ They are but three to-day,
Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons
For having struck the Guard.
_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think,
Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve,
Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted.
At this rate, in another year or two
You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?
_Prisoner._ I do.
_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you.
Your tavern, as it comes into our mind,
Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more,
You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups,
And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return.
_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price
Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man:
And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!'
But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay;
Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!
[_The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release
him._
_Regent._ What next?
_An Old Woman (very rapidly)._ Your Highness will not know me--Zia
Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was;
And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may,
On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet
As your Highness knows--and always true to pail
Until this Nicolo--
_Nicolo._ Lies! lies, your Highness!
_Old Woman._ Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye
On Serafina. She's my best of cows,
In stall with calf but ten days weaned.
_Nicolo._ Lies! lies!
_Old Woman._ I would your Highness saw her! When that thief
Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding
A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me,
To cool his tongue.
_Regent._ Ay--ay, the cow is sick,
I think; and mind me, being country-bred,
Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb
And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time.
If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter
The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own
Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay.
_Old Woman._ God bless your Highness!
_Nicolo._ God bless your Highness!
_Regent (taking up a fresh suit)._Why, what's here? "_Costanza,
Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him
And sueth to live separate, for neglect
And divers beatings, as to wit----_" H'm, h'm--
_Likewise to keep the child Geronimo,
Begotten of his body._ You defend
The suit, Giuseppe?
_A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders)._ As the woman will!
I'll not deny I beat her.
_Regent._ But neglect!
How came you to neglect her? Look on her--
The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance,
Hath never washed her body since she wed.
A beating we might pass. But how neglect
To take her by the neck unto the pump
And hold her till her wet and furious face
Were once again worth kissing? Well--well--well!
Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts:
_(To a Clerk)_ But--write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child."
_Young Peasant._ My lady--
_Wife._ Nay, my lady--
_Regent._ Eh? What's this?
_Wife._ The poor _bambino_! Nay, 'twas not the suit!
How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man--
_Young Peasant._ Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see--
_Regent._ An if my judgment suit you not, go home,
The pair. _(As they are going she calls the woman back.)_
Costanza! hath your husband erred
With other woman?
_Young Peasant_. Never!
_Wife_. I'll not charge him
With that.
_Regent_. But, yes, you may. This man hath held
Another woman to his breast.
_Wife_. Her name?
That I may tear her eyes!
_Regent_. Her name's Costanza.
The same Costanza that, with body washed,
With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes,
Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart.
Go home, poor fools, and find her!...
Heigh! No others? [_Heaves a sigh._
Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft--
Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked.
You only, Lucio--you, Lucetta--stay;
You for a while, Cesario.
[_Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc._
Heigh! that's over--
The last Court of the Regent; and the books
Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all,
Closed here for audit.
Nay, there's one thing more--
Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly,
You turned away, and still you bite your lip:
Signs that may short my preface. It concerns
The Countess Fulvia.
_Lucio_. Ha!
_Regent_. Go, bring her, Captain.
[_Exit Cesario_.
List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear,
First playmate-child, tending whose innocence
Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny
Youth to be loved and follow after love?
There is a love breaks like a morning beam
On the husht novice kneeling by his arms;
And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love,
Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio,
Follow not that!
_Lucio_. Why, who--who hath maligned
The Countess?
_Regent_ Not maligned. Lucetta, here--
_Lucio_. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue!
Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids?
_Regent_. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence.
_Lucio_. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue
Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man,
And I will smite his mouth--ay, slit his tongue--
That dares defame the Countess!
_Regent_. Stay: she comes.
[_Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending._
Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned
No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call
Our Captain paid you. Certain practices,
Which you may force me name, are charged upon
you
On testimony you may force me call
And may with freedom question.
_Fulvia_. I'll not question:
No, nor I will not answer.
_Lucio_. Then I'll answer!'
For me, for all, she is innocent!
_Regent_. For you?
We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath
Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you
Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw;
Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man.
_What_ man she will not say. Cesario
Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots.
Must we say more?
_Fulvia_. No need. Her fingering mind
Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid.
_Lucio_. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn
To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm;
The fatter, the more luscious.
_Regent. _ Lucio,
This woman nought gainsays.
_Fulvia (fiercely)._ As why should I?
I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow
My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring.
Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife
You'd banish me?
_Regent._ I do. Cesario,
See to it the City gate shuts not to-night.
And she this side.
_Fulvia (laughs recklessly)._ To-night? To-night's your own.
Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well
By the road, some seven miles beyond the town.
There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink
To the good Duke's disport. But have a care!
That cup's not yet to lip.
_Regent. _ Captain, remove her.
Lucio, remain.
_[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]_
_Lucio._ I'll not remain--When ice
Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done?
Sister, there be your books--peruse them. There
The sea-line--bide you so with back to it.
While the cold inward heat of cruelty
Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er
With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues.
God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find!
_[Exit Lucio]_
_Regent._ Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch
My glass, if haply I may tell.
_[Exit Lucetta.]_
Is't so?
And have these years enforced, encrusted me
To something monstrous, neither woman nor man?
My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load
You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself
Ruled the straight path the long account correct
As in these books, my ledgers....
[_While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps
in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He
tries his viol, and sings_.
SONG: _Gamba_.