ACT · I
SCENE · 1
Palermo. Reception-room in the Palace.
BLASCO and FERDINAND.
BLASCO.
Have you not been in Sicily before?
FERDINAND.
Never.
Bl.And, sir, what think you of Palermo?
Have you as fine cities in Spain?
Fer.Your city,
Approached by sea or from the roofs surveyed,
Smiles back upon the gazer like a queen
That hears her praise. Nearer to speak I’ll grudge not,
When I may nearer know: but since we came
There’s been no hour a stranger might dare shew
His face in the streets.
Bl.The time is now unquiet.
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Fer. Rather I’d say government given over
To murderous bandits, who range up and down
Unchecked: to whom the king’s commissioners
Were just the daintiest pricking. If I may brag
Of home, our cities are more orderly.
Bl. ’Tis a hot-blooded race, sir, full of stirrings,
Subject to fermentation, and like good wine
Ever the better for it.
Fer.But can you tell me
The real cause of these disturbances?
Bl. Nothing is easier, sir. Your viceroy, Hugo,
This is the point, is plunged in disesteem.
He has lost the fear and won the hate of the people.
Already, ere ye came, the news ye bring
Of the king being dead, was buzzed. Since at his death
His viceroy’s office falls to ground, our townsmen
Seize on this interval, wherein they hold
He hath no jurisdiction, to discredit him,
Kill him maybe, if nothing else will hinder
His reappointment. They but make the most
Of their occasion: that is all.
Fer.But how
Can a mere handful of such ruffians hold
The city, when the loyal troops are his?
Bl. ’Tis known to the people that their cause hath found
An ear in Spain: and here among the barons
Are many who wish well to the revolt.
Should Hugo push to extremes he might discover
Most potent enemies. Remember, sir,
’Twas a street scuffle in this very town,
That drave the French from Sicily.
Fer.The thought
Brings me no comfort.
Bl.Wherefore ’tis his policy
To meet the present rage by such concessions
As may be popular, and to give forth
The king is ill, not dead. ’Tis for this reason
No mass is sung nor mourning liveries worn:
To-night’s festivity, such as it is,
Hath only this pretence.
Fer.Are the two ladies
His daughters both?
Bl.The taller and the fairer,
The lady Constance, is his only daughter.
Your fine duke Philip, who comes now from court
With such a mightiness, was once her lover.
Fer. That doth not single her.
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Bl.But then it did.
She was his first. ’Twas when duke Philip’s father
Was viceroy here; Hugo was then chief justice,
And Manuel, who succeeded him, was only
Young Philip’s tutor;—he succeeds moreover
Now to his pupil’s leavings, and will marry
The long-forgotten Constance.
Fer.’Twas the other
I asked of, in white satin, she who sat
On Philip’s right at supper; who is she?
Bl. That, sir, is Margaret.
Fer.And who is Margaret?
Bl. Sister to Manuel.
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Fer.She far outshines
Her future sister.
Bl.They that can see have thought it:
And, sir, ’twill tax your better wit to add
A tittle to her full accustomed homage.
Your broken heart were but a pinch of pepper
Sprinkled on porridge. Now for full two years
Her reign hath made a melancholy madness
The fashion ’mongst our youth.
Fer.I should much like
To be presented.
Bl.O, sir, at your will.
Judge for yourself. See, here they come. (Aside.) A moth!
Fer. (aside). A very civil fellow.
[They retire to back.
Enter R. Hugo, Philip, Manuel, Margaret,
Constance and Livio.
HUGO.
I am sorry, your grace,
We make so small a party. For our poor
Reception, and for all shortcomings else,
Accuse the occasion.
PHILIP.
I think, your excellence,
I cannot play the guest. This house was once
So long my home, that here I look to find
As little ceremony as I fear I have shewn.
Hu. So should it be. Make it your home again.
Ph. I shall forget I have ever been away.
MANUEL.
Five years.
Ph.Ay, but five years of wandering,
Such as can but endear one’s home the more.
My memory still would serve me to walk blindfold
From any point of the city to these doors.
Man. What is your memory for our studies, Philip?
Ph. Too slippery for my profit. Yet the pleasure
Lives very brightly;—nay, I could but name
One deprivation I have more regretted.
MARGARET.
But now
My brother has a new philosophy.
Ph. Ah! If you share the secret, and I be thought
Worthy of initiation, may I hear it?
Mar. And welcome. Manuel, in his deep research
For the first cause and harmony of things,
Hit upon both together—they are one:
’Tis love. And now, since I profess it not,
And since ’twas learnt of you...
Man. (to Mar.).Hush, sister, hush!
Ph. I am very proud of such a pupil. (Aside.) Since
He has learned my love so readily, it may be
That he may catch my jealousy—
Hu.Come, duke,
Sit here by me. There’s more to talk of. Livio,
Fetch us the papers.
Philip crosses to L. and sits by Hugo.
Man. (crossing to R.). They must grant us, Constance,
A moment now. All day I have been away,
And yesterday I saw you not at all.
Can you forgive a lover so remiss?
CONSTANCE.
I fear I half deserve your fear.
Man.The time
Can be but short, but it shall make amends.
[They talk together.
Bl. (coming forward with Fer.). Fair lady Margaret,
Count Ferdinand of Vergas; I present him
At his desire.
Fer.Your ladyship’s true servant.
Mar. I am much honoured.
Fer.Lady, ’tis worth the pains
To cross from Spain to see you.
Mar.From that I guess
That you are a better sailor than the duke.
Fer. Nay, you judge wrong.
Mar.Have you then ate no dinner?
Fer. Now if I had not, I’d blame your stormy town
Before the sea for that: since we left ship
We are cabined in this house; to pass the door
Were to leap overboard in a whole gale.
Mar. I fear this is no country for you, sir,
If noises in the street keep you indoors.
LIVIO.
Take warning, count; Sicily’s fairest rose
Blooms on an angry plant.
Mar.But we can boast
Of warriors that for fragrance shame the rose.
(To Liv.) Is’t musk to-day?
Liv. (to Fer.). I told you.
Enter Messenger R., crosses to Hugo L.
MESSENGER.
This paper, sire, is posted thro’ the town.
Hu. Eh, eh! what have we here? [Reads.
Citizens of Palermo, King Pedro is dead. God rest his soul! The office of Viceroy being vacant, the Parliament of townsmen, assembled in the church of San Lorenzo, have this day elected Manuel to be your viceroy, in place of Hugo. Death to Hugo! Long live the king!
Why, Manuel, what’s this parliament?
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Man.I know
No more than doth your excellence. But ’tis plain
That they are orderers who put on a dress
Of regular authority; they use
The senatorial voice, and over all
They have now usurped my name to have it thought
That I have set their hatch.
[Shouts without of “Death to Hugo! The Despatches!”]
Ph.Here comes the parliament.
Hu. Now this is what I feared. Manuel, I pray you,
Go to the balcony, you have their ear;
Use then your credit.
Man.What, sire, shall I say?
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Hu. Well, you should know.
Liv. (to Man.). Look, if they ask to hear
The last despatches, gull them with some paper;
Which while you show, you make as if therefrom
You read the king’s not dead.
Ph. (to Liv.). Nay, Livio:
The word is wanted for a troop of horse.
My father never would have brooked this insult
From such a mob.
Liv.Our soldiers are not idle.
They laid hands yesterday upon the chief
And head of all, one John Palicio.
We have certain information that the rebels
Cannot be kept together but by him.
Hark! they are quiet now.
Hu. (to Man. returning). What is your charm
To win such meek obedience?
Man.They’re gone, your excellence;
But not from aught I said: for ere I spoke
Some rumour reached them, and the skirt of the throng,
That far beyond my hearing stood apart
In scattered groups, broke hastily away:
Then the next ranks shed off; and then the next
Loosened and followed them: till the voice came
To the very midst and huddle, where they pressed
With upturned faces; then all heads went down,
And with a cry they fled.
Hu.Whither?
Man.I think
To the prison, my lord.
Enter a Soldier.
Hu.What now? give me thy matter.
SOLDIER.
The prisoner Palicio is escaped.
He killed his guards, and fled beyond pursuit.
Ph. (to Liv.). Why, is not this the man you spoke of?
Liv.Ay,
That is the man.
Hu.Let the patrol be doubled for the night,
And give not o’er the search. Alive or dead,
A hundred florins to whoever finds him.
Blasco, go see to it: he must not escape.
Bl. (aside). But if he be escaped, who’s viceroy then?
[Exit with soldier.
Hu. This same Palicio, duke, is the chief rebel:
While he was caged, I could despise the rest.
But he’s a dangerous fellow; bred in the hills,
He is yet of noble blood and high descent:
A proud and lofty temper, that hath taken
A graft of wildness, and shot forth afresh
In base luxuriance. Tho’ yet unbearded,
Bandits and exiles own him; and the people,
Who hold such men in honour, can be drawn
But by his name to any enterprise.
’Tis he that with his bread-tax cry hath stirred
The commons to rebel, and be he ’scaped
Clear, as ’tis thought, there will be more ado.
I’ll not so much as vouch, duke, for your safety,
If you should sleep in the palace.
Man.Let the duke
Come to my house. What say you?
Hu.What say you, Philip?
They would not seek you there.
Ph.If ’tis your wish.
I would not bring you trouble. (To Fer.) Ferdinand,
These papers must be copied: take them straight
Into your chamber. [Exit Ferdinand.
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Hu.’Tis but truth, your grace,
We may be driven hence. The people’s cry
Is Sack and fire the palace.
Mar.See if Livio
Have not gone pale! Now, Livio, if you think
’Tis safer at our house, for pity’s sake
Spare your complexion and come back with us.
Liv. No doubt that sleep were sweeter, and all things else
Beneath thy roof, lady: and came there danger,
That my sword might protect thee...
Mar.The heavens shield us,
When we be left to that.
Liv.Didst thou not treat
All men with like contempt, I were much wronged:
But there’s none thou wilt praise.
Mar.Now, if I needed
A man to look at, I would pass my time
Searching for this Palicio. As for you,
When you can lead the people, and cut your way
Thro’ guards and prison walls, and get a price
Set on your head ... I’ll marry you.
Man.Come, sister,
This goes too far.
Mar.Why, no. Be generous.
If I be wrong, what makes you ill at ease
When this man’s free? Palicio is in prison,
And all goes cheerfully; you sit to feast,
You have no care, a joke will raise a laugh.
Palicio is escaped—hey! at that news
What blackness reigns! Forgive me, friends; I see
This man’s your master, and I like him for it.
Bravery I love, and there’s no cause so poor
It cannot justify.
Hu.If we should take him,
I’ll send him to you stuffed.
Mar.Is that a speech
One should forgive?
Man.Enough. We take our leave.
We pass by a private way, duke.
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Ph.I come with you.
Good-night.
All.Good-night.
[Exeunt Philip, Manuel, and Margaret.
Hu. (to Con.).And you to bed.
Con.I pray there’s nought to fear?
Hu. Nay, nay. Good-night, child; sleep you sound.
Con.Dear father,
Heaven keep you safe. Good-night.
Hu.Fear not for me.
[Exit Constance.
Hark, Livio.
I have learned somewhat from Philip: the Spanish court
Is open to my enemies. My best hope
If things go worse will be to sail for Spain
And face them boldly there. ’Tis an extremity
’Twere best to avoid: but since my hands are tied
I may be forced; and am so far resolved,
That if Palicio now should raise the town,
And come to attack the palace, I shall fly.
I have had a way cut thro’ the chapel wall,
Whence by a covered passage I can reach
The harbour, where I keep a ship prepared.
Thee I must leave. But let this news be spread,
That Philip is with Manuel; it may serve
To draw the people thither—his being here
Would have impeded my escape. And first
We’ll go the rounds, and see that at all points
The watch is strong and wakeful. Come with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE · 2
Hall in Manuel’s house. Enter PALICIO in woman’s clothes, bleeding, a dagger in his hand.
PALICIO.
No one, no sound. Can I hide here I am safe.
I have given the curs the slip, if I can hide.
Safe ... But this wound, the blood runs like a river:
Unless they track me by it I am clear—so far.
A paltry stab. I’ll bind it round and tie it
To stop the blood—so, so. Now, where to hide?
For here is no protection; ’tis the house
Of the chief justiciary ... a doubtful ’scape
From prison here. Yet when I saw the wall
’Twas home; then, oh, my God! this flip-flap gear
Shackling my knees—Over! ha, ha! the fools
Will never guess that leap. But I must hide:
Slip out ere morn: or if not that, be bold,
Give myself up to Manuel. Is that hope?
Manuel the just. ’Twere best reserve that hope
Till others fail. Hark!—steps. Where can I get?
Behind this curtain—so. [Hides.
Enter Manuel, Philip, Margaret, and Servant.
MANUEL (to servt.).
Giuseppe, show the duke my room.
(To Ph.) Taking us unawares o’erlook, I pray,
The want of ceremony. You will find all comfort
For sleep or wakefulness.
PHILIP.
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This is the flower
Of hospitality. Now, for old sakes,
I’d beg some meaner shift, to prove me mindful
Of ancient benefits.
MARGARET.
O, be content:
My brother’s luxury will not o’erwhelm you
With obligation.
Man.Rest you well. Good-night!
Mar. and Ph. Good-night!
[Exit Philip with servant.
Man. Margaret!
Mar.My brother!
Man.You did ill to-night.
Mar. Forgive me. I said in jest you had learned your love
From Philip. I was sorry.
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Man.Nay, what’s that?
Yet ’twas ill said, and may have wounded Philip;
Though he must wish us to assume there’s nothing
’Twixt him and Constance: and now he’s our guest
We must not let our courtesy be tainted
By his own lightness; nay, the tales told of him
Are nought to us. He’s of a generous nature,
And not forbidding to what faults beset
His age and rank. But we make no man better
By lower estimation; an open kindliness
And trust may help him; let us use such toward him.
Mar. I will. But then what was’t I said?
Man.Ah! Why,
Your praise of John Palicio. See you not
’Twill injure me with Hugo? Our relations
Are tried by public matters: ’tis in the scope
Of private intercourse to ease the strain,
Or force the rupture.
Mar.Brother, I am very sorry.
I thought ...
Man.I do not blame your thought. I grant
These Spaniards are bad masters. First they wrecked
This island to possess it; then the prize,
Which kindness might have much enriched, is stripped
Even to the bone by cruelty and rapine.
Their viceroy too, this Hugo—a man who governs
But to be governor, and even at that
Fails like a fool. To see the folk misruled
More grieves me than to see the folk misled.
And if they have much cause to rise, there’s none
Hath more to lead them, than the native outlaw,
Whom you so praised.
Re-enter Servant.
Mar.Then you forgive me, brother?
Man. Well, well, good-night!
Mar.Good-night! [Exit.
Man.Giuseppe, prepare
The little room at the end of the corridor;
I will sleep there. I shall not want thee more.
[Exit servant.
It matters not what happens, day by day
The rupture grows. ’Tis plain Hugo and I
Are foes at heart—and what a pitiful trick
To put the question of my marriage by,
Withholding his consent just for the thought,
That while my happiness hangs on his nod,
I must be closer bound to serve his interest,
Now, when his credit totters. Doth he not know
That honourable minds, thro’ very fear
Of their self-interest, are thrust away
Beyond their counter-judgment? Nay, ’tis clear
He falls, he falls; and were’t not now for Constance,
I’d gladly see him fall.
Palicio comes forward.
A woman here!
Why, who art thou?
Pal.Hush, hush! I am no woman.
[Lays his dagger on the table.
Draw not your sword. See here my dagger.
Man.Ha!
And bloodied freshly.
Pal.Let me bar the door. [Goes to door.
Man. Why, can it be?—
Pal.I am Palicio.
Man. Thou here!
Pal.You see.
Man.From prison?
Pal.Escaped, thank God!
I skirmished with my guards, and being pursued
Came thro’ your orange garden. Here none will seek me.
Hide me!
Man.Thee, madman, here?
Pal.Ay, call me madman.
I am mad, and praise God for it ... if to hate tyrants
Be madness, I’m past cure: or if ’tis madness
To escape from prison ...
Man.Nay, neither. I blamed thee not
In these; but that thou thinkest to overbear
The troops of Spain with thy small brigand crew:
To escape from justice flying to my house,—
The chief justiciary.
Pal.What will you do?
Man. Return thee straight to prison.
Pal.First, I beseech you,
Help me to bind my wound.
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Man.Art thou much hurt?
Pal. A thrust in the arm, a petty prick, which yet
Bleeds uncontrolledly.
Man.Undo it. It spurts.
Hold here thy hand, while with thy handkerchief
I bind thy arm.
Pal.Look you, ’tis lower down.
Man. Peace, man! ’Twill stay the blood to bind thee here.
Hast thou no other hurt?
Pal.Nay, none but this.
And see, ’tis staunched already. I must thank you,
Tho’ here your help should end. Call in the hirelings;
They’ll not be far. I will go back with them.
And yet ’twere pity; for ’tis certain death:
I have killed three of them. Manuel, I pray you—
I pray you, Manuel, crush not all my hopes,
My just cause. Give me a sword and a man’s dress,
And let me forth to try my fortune!
Man.Nay.
Pal. Then if I take my dagger and venture out ...
[Takes it.
I’ll yet escape. Deny me not this chance.
See, I’ll not ask your leave, but only go. [Going.
Man. Giovanni, stay. Thou hast done me a great wrong
In flying here. Why didst thou choose my house?
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Pal. ’Twas as I fled for life: the hue-and-cry
Came gathering faster round me: being still clear,
And seeing your wall, it seemed my safety lay
In that leap, could I make it.
Man.Thou’rt the last,
And only offspring of a noble stock.
The blood that I have staunched in thy veins,
Sprang from the heart of Sicily, and flows
Redder than mine, tho’ mine too once was mixed,
And not unworthily, with thine, and now
From my great grandsire’s marriage both our bloods
Are even as one, and thy blood on my hands
Is mine, and mine within my veins is thine.
I cannot send thee to thy death, Giovanni;
I may not shelter thee from justice: See,
Thou hast done me a grievous wrong.
Pal.Yet hide me awhile.
This house may be my prison.
Man.Thou hast this hope:
The king being dead ...
Pal.Is’t true that Pedro is dead?
Man. Ay, true enough.
Pal.Then are you free. I am safe.
[Puts dagger in his bosom.
Man. I say this is thy hope. The king being dead,
Such offices as hold under the crown
Need confirmation. Now I do not say
Allegiance lapses; but, if I be quick
To guess the new king’s will, that he will change
Our viceroy—which I doubt not,—I may be bold
Now to withhold my duties from a servant
Discredited, contending that they hang
Upon my judgment, for my deeds to give
After-account. See, ’tis a subtle point
I strain for thee, rather than hurt the claim
Of kinship. Thou shalt be my prisoner
For these few days. By chance I have a room
Fit for thy lodging: there I’ll shew thee now,
And thence thou must not stir. I’ll bring thee food,
Look to thy wants, and try to cure thy wound.
Thou on thy part must lie as still as one
That hushes for his life. What, man; thou’rt faint
For loss of blood, and strain? Cannot you stand?
Stand up, or I must carry you. Indeed,
Carry him I must ... see, now, where be my keys?
[Going, carrying Palicio.
