ACT · IV
SCENE · 1
The hall in Manuel’s house: it is hung with black. PHILIP and LIVIO; the latter dressed in black, at a desk.
PHILIP.
Argue not with me, Livio: Manuel’s death
Lies at my door. This last catastrophe
Followed on his disgrace, which I was main
To bring about.
LIVIO.
But since his guilt was clear,
Your deed was honourable.
Ph.I am not sure.
I was too hasty. How can I quit myself
In the ill I have done thy sister?
Liv.Her fever, duke,
Cannot be laid to you.
Ph.’Twas the three shocks
Following so fast. Manuel’s disgrace, and then
My suit urged out of time, and last his death:
’Twill be no wonder if her mind give way.
Liv. Please heaven it pass. I never thought she loved him
So well.
Ph. Nor I, be sure. Where is that Blasco?
Liv. He went to gather what the sailors know
Of Manuel’s end.
Ph.No hope but that he’s drowned.
I go now to the palace. Should I meet
With Blasco, it may be I shall detain him. [Going.
Liv. Ah!
Ph.He has lied to me.
Liv.If there be better tidings
Of Constance, send them hither.
Ph.Indeed I will.
Is there no news of Margaret?
Liv.Not a word. [Exit Philip.
She knows I am here, no doubt: but when she hears
Of Manuel’s death she must return.—I think
That when her brother lived to do his worst,
My suit had fairer chance.
Enter Blasco.
Well, count, what news?
BLASCO.
Excellent.—Manuel was drowned, drowned like a dog.
I have seen the captain of the ship that ’scaped.
He tells that, putting forth at night, they kept
Their course till dawn, when in a fog they drave
On the French fleet, some two-and-twenty sail.
Of our five vessels three were taken: one,
His own, escaped, and the other—that’s the one
On which sailed Manuel—by a tall ship,
Which flew the admiral’s pennon, was run down,
And sunk in sight.
Liv.The news will please my father,
As it doth thee. For me ’tis ruin: my hope
I might please Margaret working for her brother
Is gone. Now will she hate me more than ever.
Bl. You never could have won her while he lived.
Liv. Well, take these papers. There are here the orders
For the execution of Palicio
To-morrow, in the public square, at noon.
See them in proper hands. They need a seal.
Bl. ’Twill be a pleasure. ’Twas the kindest freak,
This self-surrender.
Liv.He was strangely dashed,
Looking for Manuel, to find me here.
Bl. He’ll find that friend no more.
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Liv.Take them and go.
And for the present, count, avoid the duke:
He is angry with thee. [Exit Blasco.
I shall not leave this house
Till I be sure Margaret means not to come.
The unkindest tempers are broke down by grief:
And since she cannot blame me, she may find
Comfort in my compassion,—ay, and thank me
For some consideration.—She will see
I have put on black, and set the house in mourning,
Have ordered mass, have had his room shut up ...
Is there now nothing more? Why, who is this?
Enter Margaret, throwing off a veil.
MARGARET.
Livio! thou here! Where is my brother?
Liv.Oh!
Margaret!
Mar. Where is my brother? I am come
To speak with him. Where is he?
Liv.Hast thou heard nothing?
Mar. Heard what? Where is he?
Liv.O, if thou knowest not ..
Mar. What is it? speak. Why is the house in black?
What means it? say.
Liv.Nay, let it not be me
To tell thee.
Mar.Thinkest thou my fancy’s horror
Is gentler than thy bluntest tale? Speak quickly.
Liv. ’Twas on his own confession of connivance
In John Palicio’s shelter and escape,
My father put him from his place, and sent him
To answer to this charge before the king.
He sailed two nights ago. The ship ...
Mar.Go on, sir!
Liv. Our ships fell in with the enemy, and all
But two were captured, one on which he sailed,
And one which brought the news.
Mar.And Manuel’s ship?
Liv. ’Tis said the ship on which he sailed was sunk.
Mar. (falling on a chair). Sunk, say you, and he?...
Liv. My sister at the tidings straight fell ill,
And her mind wanders. Bear a braver heart.
Mar. O, fatal day. ’Tis I, ’tis I have done it.—
And did none see him?
Liv.Margaret, dearest Margaret,
Take courage. I have shared thy sorrow, Margaret:
Cannot I comfort thee? O, sweetest Margaret,
Thou dost not know my love.
Mar. (standing, and showing the dagger). Away! away!
Liv. Nay, wherefore treat me thus?
Mar.Is this an hour
To force thy love upon me?
Liv.Margaret,
Hast thou no pity?
Mar.Think if I have pity
To spend on thee.
Liv.If thou wouldst slay me, Margaret,
Thou need’st no dagger.
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Mar.Sir, stand back, I say:
And first tell plainly what thou knowest. One ship
Of three escaped?
Liv.The hindmost ’twas, that fled ...
Mar. And brought the tidings?
Liv.Ay.
Mar.And was none saved
Out of the ship which sunk?
Liv.I know not.
Mar.Know’st not?
There’s hope, thank God. And thou!—Why, if in thy heart
Lurked the least feeling, ’twould have shewn this side,
Not leapt to the worst ... Come, sir, I’ll keep this sorrow:
’Tis not with thee I’d share my fear for Manuel ...
Nor any other; tho’ my need compels me,
If thou’rt the man sits in his place.
1980
Liv.I am.
Mar. He would have aided me.
Liv.But I will aid thee
More than a brother. Thou canst ask no favour
I will not grant.
Mar.Sir, I shall ask no favour:
Nor aught but what it is thy part to grant,
Unless it be promise of secrecy.
Liv. O, but one secret with thee! there’s no jewel
In all the world I would esteem as that.
Mar. Where’s Giovanni Palicio, sir?
Liv.Palicio!
Mar. Ay, he’s my kinsman.
Liv.He is in the palace dungeon,
Awaiting death.
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Mar.He’s my near kinsman, Livio,
And must not die: and, being condemned to die,
I, as his kinswoman, desire a pass
To visit him in prison when I choose. [Livio writes.
My purpose with him is to extort a pledge
That he will leave the country, on which condition
I look for his release.
Liv.Here is the order.
And use it as thou wilt.
Mar. (taking). I thank you for it.
Liv. If ’tis so near thee he go quit, what means
Better than mine to work it?
Mar.I have means.
Liv. With whom?
Mar.I have the means.
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Liv.Believe it not.
There’s none could win this favour of my father.
Hath not his cry been Death to Hugo?
He’s more than rebel. There’s a private hate
Which makes his sentence grateful.
Mar.I have means.
Liv. ’Twere easier wouldst thou trust me. See, ’tis done
Without more words. Margaret, I’ll risk this thing
For thee. Palicio shall escape to Spain,
To Naples, where thou wilt, if thou ...
Mar.If what?
Liv. Margaret, accept my love.
Mar.O, Livio,
I am too sad to be angry with thee now.
But know if ever thou wouldst merit love
By generosity, thou must not beg
A bargain. ’Do this and I’ll love thee,’ ay,
That may be said, but not ’I’ll do this thing
If thou wilt love me’: and thou, Livio,
A chief justiciary!
Re-enter Blasco.
Liv.Hush, I pray thee!
Bl. The lady Margaret! We are very happy
In this return.
Mar. (aside to Blasco). What hadst thou of Palicio?
Bl. Ha! Sayst thou?...
Mar. (aside). Meet me at the palace, count.
I have thy letter. (To Liv.) I see there is no place here
In my house for me. I have still a hope, and in it
Shall fortify my comfort ... If aught is heard
I shall be with thy sister. Thou and Blasco
May serve me if ye will. [Exit.
Liv.What said she to you?
Bl. Art not thou too accustomed to her wit?
I bring ill news. Thy sister still is worse,
And calls for thee, and Rosso thinks ’tis well
That thou shouldst go.
Liv.Bide thou here in my place ...
Bl. Nay, I must go with thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE · 2
A public place. MANUEL disguised as a friar meeting ROSSO.
MANUEL.
’Tis doctor Rosso.
ROSSO.
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At your service, father.
Man. May I speak with thee?
Ros.With pleasure.
Man.Stand we aside.
Hast thou forgotten me?
Ros.Nay, for I think
I have never seen thee ... or I ask thy pardon.
Man. Now thou shouldst know me well.
Ros.Thy voice I think
I do remember.
Man. (discovering). Do you know me now?
Ros. Manuel! Thank God!
Man.Is it a good disguise?
Ros. Metamorphosis ... if indeed ’tis thou,
In such a husk. Then thou’rt nót drowned!
Man.Indeed,
There was a time when I had some fear to be;
But how came you to know it?
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Ros.Of the ships
One returned home with news that thine was sunk.
Was not that true?
Man.Ay, ay,
Ros.How didst thou ’scape?
Man. I took my only chance, leapt overboard
And swam to the enemy. By heavenly fortune
The ship that ran us down was Raymond’s, he
Who served so long with us. I had left my foes
To find old friends: and when the fight was o’er,
I told him in what hapless case I stood,
And promising to hold myself no less
His prisoner, and surrender to his master
At Naples if need were, I bade him land me
By night at Cefaledi; there arrived,
By the good sailor friars I was clad
In the disguise you see, and came in speed
To look to matters here.
Ros.There is great need.
Man. Ay, my affairs with Constance?
Ros.I grieve to tell
Constance is lying ill.
Man.She is in your hands?
Ros. Ay.
Man. Doth she doubt of me?
Ros.At your committal
A fever must have seized her. Then your death,
Which should have been concealed, was urged upon her,
In countenance of duke Philip’s suit ...
Man.How? Philip!
Ros. Did you not guess?
Man.Is’t possible?
Ros.At that
Her mind gave way: ’tis question of her life.
Man. I bring the medicine to work her cure.
Is’t not enough?
Ros.I trust so.
Man.And I think it.
How blind I have been! I trusted Philip, and he
Was playing against me. Time will right me, Rosso,
In this as in the other. Patience. And what
Of your affairs ...
Ros.How mine?
Man.Your love affairs.
Ros. My love affairs?
Man.Ay,—Margaret.
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Ros.Margaret?
Man. Can I be wrong? Her head was turned the day
She brought you to Palicio.
Ros.O, Manuel,
This makes it sure.
Man.Yes, and I’m glad of it.
Ros. Nay, nay: pray hear me. On the very day
Palicio left your house, she went, ’twas said,
To Monreale: there she hath not been seen.
Was’t to Palicio?
Man.Now, please God, thou’rt wrong.
Say, where is he?
Ros.Stranger than all, he has made
Surrender of himself to Livio,
Our new justiciary, and awaits his death
In Hugo’s dungeon.
Man.How! And Margaret?
Ros. She hath now this morn returned, full of distraction
As well might be, but firm beyond her wont.
She is in the palace, where she nurses Constance
With the cool skill of one that hath his stake
Ventured elsewhere ...
Mar.Good God! Now if thou’rt right,
Rosso, this matter needs me more than the other.
Thank heaven I am here. Constance is in thy hands:
Thou hast her cure. Yet use it with discretion,
Knowing my hazard. I shall visit at once
The archbishop; he will stand my friend, and give me
Commission in the habit of a priest
To see Palicio. Nay, there’s not a moment
To lose. Thou mayst contrive that Constance too
Should send for me; maybe I thus might see her.
Farewell. I go, yet must I take a name;
Let it be Thomas, father Thomas. To-night
Can I rest at thy house?
Ros.I pray you will.
Man. An hour hence couldst thou meet me there?
Ros.I will.
God speed you.
Man. O, Rosso, Rosso, I fear thou’rt right ...
[Exit.
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Ros. Ay, ay. I’m right. Alas for Manuel.
’Tis almost pity he is escaped from death.
I would tell Constance, but her throbbing brain
Hath no interpreter, and in her ear
All words are meaningless, or mean alike
Something insane, which in her eager dreaming
Steals the world’s place. I have no power to tell.
[Exit.
SCENE · 3
Room in the Palace. HUGO and PHILIP meeting.
HUGO.
No cheer. Thy questioning looks may not be answer’d
With any brightness, duke: and yet take heart.
The fever of our climate is in the onset
Oft overmasked as this. ’Twill clear and pass.
’Twere quite incredible she should so sicken
Of mere affection. The compacted body
Hath its machinery for health and action,
Its appetites for food and rest, too firm
To be unfixed by fancy. Like a river
Our life flows on, whose surface storms may vex,
But never move the current from its bed.
PHILIP.
I heartily repent my part in this.
I wronged poor Manuel.
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Hu.Now thou wrong’st me.
Him being dead thou canst not wrong. ’Tis plain
The objection falls. If once there was a motive
That might have stayed thee ...
Ph.Nay, upbraid me not.
Hu. How, I upbraid thee?
Ph.That I pressed my suit.
Hu. Rather for slackness in it.
Ph.If she recover
’Tis all I pray for.
Hu.Not so. This will pass.
’Twill be forgotten. All will be forgotten.
Look but on Margaret, doth her brother’s death
Craze her?
Ph.Indeed, I think she is nigh distracted;
And if she bear up better there’s a reason:
She hath a comforter. Nay, I may tell you
I saw your doctor here take her aside,
And when he spoke, her face of woe lit up.
She loves him. ’Twas a match that Manuel wished.
Hu. Nay, nay! what! Rosso, the apothecary!
Enter Livio and Blasco.
Ah, Livio; Constance calls thy name, ’tis hoped
That she may know thee.
LIVIO.
Is she better, sire?
Hu. Nay: but she asked for thee, and Rosso said
Thou shouldst be sent for. Come within.
Ph.May I
Far as the door?
Hu.Ay, come.
BLASCO (aside to Liv.).
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Tell Margaret,
Who hath some matter for me, that I am here.
[Exeunt Hugo and Livio.
Ph. Count, thou hast lied to me. If that suffice
To raise thy temper, meet me when thou wilt:
If not, and Constance die, I’ll use thee worse. [Exit.
Bl. Ay, ay. No doubt there may be danger for me
Even from that quarter: but I have a foe
That threats me more. How came she by the letter?
Only Palicio and his messenger
Could know ’twas mine.
Enter Margaret.
MARGARET.
’Tis business with thee, count:
Therefore few words. I have thy treasonous letter
And other proofs, which I shall bring against thee
Unless thou do my bidding.
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Bl.What is that,
My lady Peremptory? speak thy will.
Mar. Attend. Palicio is condemned to die
At noon to-morrow. I require that thou
Contrive that he escape, ay, and go clear
Three hours before that time.
Bl.Impossible.
Mar. ’Tis not so, count. For Livio had promised me
The very thing; but since his price exceeds
What I need pay to thee ...
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Bl.My price, how mean you?
Mar. I will give back thy letter to thy hands,
And promise secrecy in every matter
I had against thee.
Bl.Give me now the letter,
And I will do it.
Mar.Nay. Thou’lt do it first.
Bl. Then say that if at nine to-morrow morn
I have a friendly guard—
Mar.Keep to that hour:
’Twill do. I shall be there to see it done.
I’ll bring the letter with me. I can provide
His further safety. If thou fail, the enquiry,
Which I can set on foot, delays his death,
Till I find other means.
Bl.But still I see not
My own security.
Mar.Thou hast my promise:
And thy security is only this,
To keep to thine. I go. Remember, nine. [Exit.
Bl. Wheu! wheu! Who hath the secret now? Indeed,
I see this dainty lady hath a lover
We little dreamed of. Therefore was he housed
With Manuel. O, Giovann Palicio:
Thus Livio’s rival. And thou blab of me
To mistress Margaret, dost thou? well, well, well!
I’ll see thee die for that. Die now thou must.
I have, sir, but to tell this tale in the ear
Of the chief justiciary, and I am saved.
Re-enter Livio.
Livio, thou hast a rival.
Liv.I know.
Bl.Thou knowest?
Liv. My father saith Margaret will marry Rosso.
Bl. Rosso! Rosso be hanged! ’Tis John Palicio.
Liv. Palicio!
Bl.Yes, Palicio.
Liv.Nay.
Bl.I’ll tell thee.
Hark.—Was he not concealed in Manuel’s house?
Liv. Well?
Bl.And escaping from his house by night,
The next day where was Margaret?
Liv.Ah!
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Bl.And then
’Twas she betrayed the rebels.
Liv.Eh!
Bl.We traced
The little book to her servant.
Liv.That’s against it.
Bl. Nay: it explains why all the names were there,
Only not his.
Liv.But then ... nay, why should he
Surrender?
Bl.That’s but madness any way.
But now she comes demanding his deliverance.
Liv. Ay, she doth. O, the villain! he shall die.
Bl. He shall; but hark, I have promised Margaret
To set Palicio free at nine to-morrow.
Say that we go together. Margaret comes
To see her lover freed. Her we will take
And keep confined until his execution;
Which for our purpose may be hurried on.
Or if ...
Liv.Stay; why this promise? In the course
Of justice he must die.
Bl.Not so. My promise
To set him free was made for two good reasons.
First hearing thou hadst offered her the like:
Next for the knowledge that on my refusal
She could find other means. Beside all which
She bargains to restore me certain letters
I sent her years ago, which I confess
I am now ashamed of: (aside.)—Any lie will serve
To smooth this idiot.—These she brings with her,
And I can take them from her. My object gained
I hand her o’er to thee. For all her scorns
Repay her as thou wilt.
Liv.I fear her.
Bl.Nay,
I can secure thee. Come. [Exeunt.
SCENE · 4
Dungeon of the Palace. PALICIO discovered. A door at back of prison is L. of centre.
PALICIO.
I cannot think of death. Imagination
Is barren on that point, and hath no picture;—
To be so near should better prick the fancy.—
I see a grave—but stand beside the grave ...
Nothing.—And yet I am so near.—I judge
From this how dizzily deep rides the division
’Twixt this world and the next; tho’ in Time’s face
’Tis thin, ay, more invisibly sharp than is
The axe’s edge, which makes it.—Is our life’s stuff
So different? All the joys and hopes of earth
Wrought of too coarse a fibre to invest
An inkling of that other unseen world,
Which hath this only entrance? Wherefore my mind
Wanders in wasteful contemplation back
O’er what I have done, pitifully seeking
To wear renewed the robe of those proud deeds,
To dream again her disappointed dreams;
And over all is Margaret, ever Margaret;
Floating before these vain soul-treacherous eyes,—
My tempter and tormentor.
Enter Gaoler.
GAOLER.
A priest sent from the archbishop. Shall he enter?
Pal. Yea: bid him enter. But I pray thee now,
Thou execrable minion of that devil
Who sucks our people’s blood, come not thyself:
Each time I see thee I must wish to kill thee.
Thou art my soul’s last peril. Keep away.
Gaoler. Whate’er I be, I can be civil, sir. [Exit.
Pal. Ay, I was wrong. Now must I ask his pardon.
I am not yet fit to die. Yet is’t not written
“If hand or foot offend thee, cut it off;
If thine eye, pluck it out”? I have done all this;
Yet lurks there something in the accusing balance
Which my soul sickens at. What if I have lost
My world and soul? This good priest comes in time.
Enter Manuel disguised as priest.
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Father, if thou be come to shrive my soul,
I need thee sorely.
MANUEL.
I am here for that.
Pal. There’s comfort in thy face. I have much to tell.
Thou know’st me, who I am?
Man.Ay, son.
Pal.I pray
What said the archbishop of me?
Man.Pause not now
To ask and weigh man’s judgment, who so soon
Must answer to the Judge of all.
Pal.Nay, nay.
If thou bring hither such a thought of me,
What can I tell thee? How shall I begin?
Man. If there be any one thing on your mind,
More than another, which now brings you shame,
Begin with that.
Pal.Ay: such a thing there is.
Man. What is’t?
Pal.’Tis the story of the mischief,
Which makes me need thee; which hath sent me here.
For I was single-hearted, single-eyed,
As thou or any of the saints, who hold
Their place in heaven secure, three days ago,—
But three days: If thou then hadst come to me
I should have said, My sins are all forgiven;
I only beg of thee the heavenly bread
To be my passport to my home prepared.
My earthly sword hath won a heavenly crown.
I have not left undone aught, save where God’s will
Forbade accomplishment, and if I have done
Aught unpermitted ’twas in zeal’s excess.
My errors are the saints’—three days ago ...
And now my boast is gone, my soul is stained.
Hark, while I tell. Satan, who saw me thus
Pure-hearted and elect, an envied prey,
Used all his skill to take me: Ay, he came
And showed me, in the room where I lay sick,
Wounded, and weak and faint, a beauteous woman,
And all love’s world. He said, Take this; but I
Was ready awhile, and answered, Not for me.
I thread the narrow way; I climb at heaven.
If I touch this, I perish. But he said,
Not so, ’tis thy due prize. Take it, Palicio!
’Twas the old tale—“Thou shalt not surely die.”
I took it. God deserted me that hour:
My friends suspected me: all things went ill:
And now ...
Man.Stay. First, this woman, who misled you,
Is she your wife?
Pal.Nay, ’tis but now three days ...
Man. You say she is not your wife. Is then your sin
To have leapt the bounds which hold unmarried lovers?
Pal. O, father, thou couldst never ask such thing
If thou didst know who ’twas. Nay, thou mayst know:
’Twas Manuel’s sister,—Margaret of Palermo.
Man. (partly discovering). See, I am Manuel. * * *
* * * Ay, and so far is well.
Now say, did Margaret contrive thy flight?
Pal. ... (assents).
Man. And after followed thee to Monreale?
And met thee on the hills?
Pal. ... (assents).
Man.Then tell me now
Why hast thou left her?
Pal.Nay. Question me not.
Man. Why hast thou left her?
Pal.Why come to me thus?
I needed but a priest to comfort me,
And show me on death’s road: thou drag’st me back
To torture me. Thou canst not understand.
Man. Thou ow’st to me more than to any priest,
Who for thy sake might hear, to tell me true.
Why hast thou left her?
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Pal.If thou wert a priest,
Then wouldst thou see how well the stalking fiend
Snared for my soul. I planned for yesternight
To storm the palace: and I had promised Margaret
To make no further venture if that failed,
But sail with her to Rome and there be married,
Using thy interest to reclaim my rank.
But on the day I gave that word, my men
Were all betrayed, taken, and led to prison.
I was with Margaret, as well they knew:
My love for her, my shelter at thy house,
My flight permitted, set them on the thought
That I had been corrupted, was the traitor.
Fly with me, then cried Margaret. Ay, the fiend too
Said, Fly: go safe. I foiled him. I came here.
That was my only answer.
Man.And didst thou not
Betray them?
Pal.I! Palicio! when did I
Betray?
Man. Stay, while in turn I shew to thee
Another tale made of the self-same matter.—
A price set on thy head, pursued by justice,
Bleeding to death, thou camest to my house
Asking for shelter, begging but for life.
I gave it at my risk,—how great that risk
I’ll shew thee soon;—there at my house my sister
Secretly tended thee, and won thy cure.
Thou in return didst, all unknown to me,
Obtain her love, and use it to break trust,
Flying by stealth at night: and then, being fled,
Didst scruple not to use thy flight, to work
The very thing for which thy life was owed.
Further, when that went wrong, merely for fear
Men should think ill of thee, thou didst desert
Her, to whose love was due that thou wert free;
Wronging her then again, as me before ...
Pal. Manuel, forbear; thee I confess I wronged:
For the rest thy taunts are vain.
Man.Wait: there is more.—
Thy refuge being discovered, I was charged
With treason, and in course shipped hence for Spain.
My ship was sunk, and I, but for God’s mercy,
Drowned. My disgrace and rumoured death so wrought
On Constance, that she lies in life’s last hope.
To all of us thou hast done unmeasured ill:
What is thy plea?
Pal.Though God himself should curse me,
My purpose hath been good.
Man.Ay, that I’ll grant:
Thou’rt for the right, but being too hot upon it
Mistakest right. Thou art numbered with the madmen
Who, thinking the whole world’s unhappiness
Hangs on one string, tread all else underfoot
So they may reach to cut it.—And where’s the good?
Thyself, too, in what plight, that after all
This sacrifice of others’ rights, thou rushest
To die to save thine honour from a stain,
That needs no washing!
Pal.Enough: there let it end:
I die to-morrow.
Man.Nay, thou must escape:
Retrieve all that thou canst. I now shall go
To Margaret, whom before I feared to meet.
She will be working for thee. If she fail,
The archbishop yet hath power to stay thy death
Till I can serve thee. If thy love for her,
And hers for thee abide, you must be married.
Nay, all she urged was good.
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Pal.O, ’tis impossible.
Work not for my escape: ’tis best I die.
Man. Nay, nay. Thou that canst fight, fight with thyself.
The brave despair that fear not: that’s the shock
The strongest suffer. Thou wast ill of late;
Wert thou now strong, shame would not crush thy spirit. [Going.
Pal. Manuel, go not!
Man.Yes, I must go. Remember
My name is Father Thomas. None must guess
Who hath been with thee.—Farewell. Fight with thyself;
Palicio, with thyself. Thou shalt be saved. [Exit.