The Lamp and the Bell: A Drama In Five Acts

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

ACT II

Scene 1—Four months later.
[Scene: A garden, near the palace at Fiori. The young Duke
Guido is discovered standing with one foot resting on a
garden-bench, looking off, lost in thought. Enter Giovanni.]
GIO. That is a merry face you wear, my Guido!
Now that the young King Mario visits the court
And walks all morning in the woods with the Princess,
Or gives her fencing lessons,—upon my word,
You are as gay as a gallows!
GUI. She is never
Alone with him. Laura—Carlotta—someone
Is always there.
GIO. Ah—ah—but even so,
No matter who is there, I tell you, lovers
Are always alone!
GUI. Why do you say these things,
Giovanni?
GIO. Because I love you, you lean wolf,
And love to watch you snuff the air. My friend,
There was a time I thought it all ambition
With you, a secret itching to be king—
And not so secret, either—an open plot
To marry a girl who will be Queen some morning.
But now at times I wonder. You have a look
As of a man that's nightly gnawed by rats,
The very visage of a man in love.
Is it not so?
GUI. I do not know, Giovanni.
I know I have a passion in my stomach
So bitter I can taste it on my tongue.
She hates me. And her hatred draws me to her
As the moon draws the tide.
GIO. You are like a cat—
There never was a woman yet that feared you
And shunned you, but you leapt upon her shoulder!
Well, I'll be off. The prettiest girl in Fiori,—
Unless it be Her Highness, waits for me
By a fountain. All day long she sells blue plums,
And in the evening what she has left of them
She gives to me! You should love simply, Guido,
As I do. [Exit Giovanni.]
[Guido sits on the bench and drops his head in hand.
Enter Francesca.]
FRA. [Softly.] Guido! Guido!
GUI. Who calls me?
FRA. Guido!
GUI. Francesca! Why do you follow me here?
You know I do not wish to see you!
FRA. Do not be angry.
'Tis half a week since you have spoken to me,
And over a week since you have so much as laid
Your hand upon my arm! And do you think,
Loving you as I do, I can do without you,
Forever, Guido, and make no sign at all?
I know you said you did not wish to see me
Ever again,—but it was only a quarrel—
And we have quarreled before!
GUI. It was not a quarrel.
I am tired of you, Francesca. You are too soft.
You weep too much.
FRA. I do not weep the less
For having known you.
GUI. So;—it will save you tears, then
To know me less.
FRA. Oh, Guido, how your face
Is changed,—I cannot think those are the eyes
That looked into my eyes a month ago!
What's come between us?
GUI. Nothing has come between us.
It is the simple snapping of a string
Too often played upon.
FRA. Ah!—but I know
Who snapped it! It will do you little good
To look at her,—she'll never look at you!
GUI. Be silent a moment!—Unless you would be silent
Longer!
FRA. Indeed! I shall speak out my mind!
You go beyond yourself! There is proportion
Even in a nature like my own, that's twisted
From too much clinging to a crooked tree!
And this is sure: if you no longer love me,
You shall no longer strike me!
MARIO. [Off stage.] Beatrice!
Wait for me! Wait!
BEA. [Off stage.] Not I! Who does not run?
As fast as I run, shall be left behind me!
GUI. They are coming here! I do not wish to see them!
FRA. Oh, Guido! [She follows him off. Exeunt Guido and Francesca.]
[Enter Beatrice, running, followed by Mario.]
MAR. Beatrice, you run like a boy!
You whistle like a boy! And upon my word,
You are the only girl I ever played
At jousting with, that did not hold her sword
As if it were a needle! Which of us,
Think you, when we are married, will be King?
BEA. When we are married! Sir, I'll have you know
There's an ogre to be tamed, a gem to be pried
From out a dragon's forehead, and three riddles
To be solved, each tighter than the last, before
A Princess may be wed!
MAR. Even by a King?
BEA. For Kings the rules are sterner!—One more riddle,
And a mirror that will show her always young.
MAR. And if I do these things, then, will you have me,
Rose-Red?
BEA. Maybe. And if you do not do them,
Maybe. Come—I will race you to the bridge!
MAR. [Catching her hand,] Nay, not so fast!—Have you no wish to be
Beside me, ever, that you are forever running
Ahead?
BEA. Indeed, if you would have the truth
It has come into my mind more times than once
It would be sweet to be beside you often.
MAR. Rose-Red!
BEA. Come—I will race you to the bridge!
[Exeunt Beatrice and Mario.]

Scene 2
[Court-yard of the palace at Fiori. Entire court assembled.
A band of strolling players, with a little stage
on wheels, are doing a Harlequinade pantomime to amuse
the young King Mario, the guest of honor. Beatrice sits
beside him. In this scene the two people who are oblivious
to the pantomime are Guido and Octavia. Guido is
apparently brooding over something. From time to time
he looks at Beatrice and Mario. Once, having gazed for
some moments at the pair, he looks at Octavia and sees
that she, too, is looking at them, which seems to satisfy
him. The Queen does not take her eyes from the two during
the entire scene. Beatrice and Mario do not conduct
themselves precisely as lovers, but they are very gay and
happy to be in each other's company, apparently. Lorenzo
watches the show with a benign, almost childish
interest.]
[Pantomime begins.]
GIO. You, Pierrot, are you not a little thick
For such a sorrowful fellow?
PIERROT. Nay, indeed!
Sorrow may come to all. And 'tis amazing
How much a man may live through and keep fat.
[Pantomime continues]
CAR. Ho! Now he stumbles! Look you, Pantaloon,
If you were not so learned i' the head
You might know better where to put your feet!
LAU. [To Carlotta.] 'Tis curious how it addles a man's bones
To think too much.
CAR. Nay, truth. Wise men were ever
Awkward in the legs.
[Pantomime continues.]
RAFFAELE. Have at him, Polichinello.
GIO. Lay on! Lay on!
ANS. Leave not a nail of him!
GIO. Dog! Would you have him write a book about you?
LUIG. Spit him i' the liver! It is his only organ!
BEA. [To Mario.] Nay, it is cruel. I cannot look at it.
MAR. It is but play.
BEA. Ay, but 'tis cruel play.
To be so mocked at!—Come, take heart, good Doctor!
'Tis a noisy fellow, but light withal!—Blow at him!
GIO. [To Guido.] She has the softest heart that ever
I saw
In a hard woman. It may be, seeing she has pity
For one rogue, she has pity for another!
Mark you, my Guido, there is hope yet!
GUI. Nay,
There's not. I have opened up my mind to her,
And she will none of me.
GIO. [Jestingly.] That was the last thing
You should have done!—Speak,—did she give for answer
She loves the King?
GUI. Not she. She gave for answer
She does not love the Duke.
[Pantomime continues.]
ANS. [To Colombine.] Ah, pretty lady!
CAR. La, she is fickle! How she turns from one face
To another face,—and smiles into them all!
FRAN. Oh, ay, but' tis the Pierrot that she loves.
[Pantomime continues and comes to a close.]
[All applaud.]
LUIGI. Well done!
ANS. Bravo!
GIO. A monstrous lively play!
BEA. Oh, is it over?—I would it were not over!
MAR. And yet it pleased you not!
BEA. When it pleased me not,
I looked at you.
MAR. And when I pleased you not—?
BEA. I looked at Harlequin. However, I saw him
But fleetingly. Pray, was he dark or fair?
LUIGI. Laura!
LAU. Who calls? La, it is only Luigi!
LUIGI. Laura, there'll be a moon tonight.
LAU. I' faith,
There was a moon last night. [She sighs.]
LUIGI. At ten o'clock,
Were I by a certain gate, would you be there?
What say you?
LAU. Ay,—if weariness overtook me,
And I could not get further!
CAR. La, 'tis sun-down!
[In the meantime the crowd has been breaking up and dispersing.
The curtain falls on the disappearing spectators and on Pierrot
and his troupe packing up their wagon to go to the next town.]

Scene 3
[Fiori. A garden with a fountain. Evening.]
[Enter Octavia and Ladies.]
OCT. It would amuse me if I had a lily
To carry in my hand. You there, Carlotta!
You have a long arm,—plunge it in the pool
And fish me forth a lily!
CLAUDIA. Majesty,
They close at night.
OCT. Well—we will open them.
CAR. [Going to pool and scanning it.] Go to—I am not a frog!
OCT. What did you say?
ARIANNA. She says she sees a frog, Your Majesty.
FRAN. [Aside to Carlotta.]
You are mad! Can you not keep your tongue in your head?
CAR. Ay, I can keep it in my cheek.—There's one.
God grant it have an eel at the end of it,—
I'll give the dame good measure.
[While the ladies are at the pool enter Guido.]
GUIDO. Greeting, madam!
OCT. Who greets me?—Ah, it is the Duke.
Good even, Guido. You seek an audience with me?
GUIDO. Nay—nay—but if you send away your women,—
We shall be more alone.
OCT. [After considering him a moment.] You may leave me now,
Laura, Francesca—all of you—and you would best go in
At an early hour, instead of walking the gardens
All night; I would have you with your wits
About you in the morning.
LAU. [Aside.] Oh, indeed?
You would best go in yourself, lest the dew rust you,
You sauce-pan! [Exeunt ladies.]
OCT. Now, my good sir,—you may speak.
GUI. [As if by way of conversation.]
It is a long time, is it not, your daughter
Is absent from the court?
OCT. Why say you that?
GUI. Why but to pass the time, till she returns?
OCT. Nay, Guido. That is well enough for some,
But not for me. I know the slant of your fancy;
'Tis not in that direction.
GUI. Yet me thinks
The sooner she is back again at court
The happier for us both.
OCT. "Us both?" What "both?"
GUI. You Madam, and myself.
OCT. And why for me?
GUI. [Carefully.] Why, are you not her mother?
OCT. Hah! [Pause.] Guido,
What festers in your mind? Do you speak out now,
If you await some aid from me.
GUI. Madam,
I have but this to say: if I were a woman
With a marriageable daughter, and a King rode by,
I'd have her at the window.
OCT. So. I thought so.
[With an entire change of manner.]
Guido, what think you,—does she love the King,—
I mean Lorenzo's daughter?
GUI. [Between his teeth.] Ay, she loves him.
OCT. And loves he her?
GUI. Oh, ay. He loves the moon,
The wind in the cypress trees, his mother's portrait
At seventeen, himself, his future children—
He loves her well enough. But had she blue eyes
And yellow hair, and were afraid of snakes,
He yet might love her more.
OCT. You think so, Guido?
I am content to learn you of that mind.
There had occurred to me—some time ago,
In fact—a similar fancy. And already
My daughter is well on her way home.
[Exeunt Guido and Octavia.]
[Music, Enter Beatrice and Fidelio. Fidelio strums his lute
softly throughout the next conversation, up to the words
"and cease to mock me.">[
BEA. Fidelio,
Were you ever in love?
FID. I was never out of it.
BEA. But truly?
FID. Well. I was only out of it
What time it takes a man to right himself
And once again lose balance. Ah, indeed,
'Tis good to be in love, I have often noticed,
The moment I fall out of love, that moment
I catch a cold.
BEA. Are you in love, then, now?
FID. Ay, to be sure.
BEA. Oh! Oh! With whom, Fidelio?
Tell me with whom!
FID. Why, marry, with yourself,—
That are the nearest to me,—and by the same troth,
The farthest away.
BEA. Go to, Fidelio!
I am in earnest, and you trifle with me
As if I were a child.
FID. Are you not a child, then?
BEA. Not any more.
FID, How so?
BEA. I am in love.
FID. Oh—oh—oh, misery, misery, misery, misery!
BEA. Why do you say that?
FID. Say what?
BEA. "Misery, misery."
FID. It is a song.
BEA. A song?
FID. Ay, 'tis a love-song.
Oh, misery, misery, misery, misery, oh!
BEA. Nay, sweet Fidelio, be not so unkind!
I tell you, for the first time in my life
I am in love! Do you be mannerly now,
And cease to mock me,
FID. What would you have me do?
BEA. I would have you shake your head, and pat my shoulder,
And smile and say, "Godspeed."
FID. [Doing so very tenderly.] Godspeed.
BEA. [Bursting into tears.] I do not know if I am happy or sad.
But I am greatly moved. I would Bianca
Were here. I never lacked her near so much
As tonight I do, although I lack her always.
She is a long time gone.—If I tell you something,
Will you promise not to tell.
FID. Nay, I'll not promise, But I'll not tell.
BEA. Fidelio, I do love so
The King from Lagoverde! I do so love him!
FID. Godspeed, Godspeed.
BEA. Ay, it is passing strange;
Last week I was a child, but now I am not.
And I begin my womanhood with weeping;
I know not why.—La, what a fool I am!
'Tis over. Sing, Fidelio.
FID. Would you a gay song, My Princess?
BEA. Ay.—And yet—nay, not so gay.
A simple song, such as a country-boy
Might sing his country-sweetheart.—Is it the moon
Hath struck me, do you think? I swear by the moon
I am most melancholy soft, and most
Outrageous sentimental! Sing, dear fool.
FID. [Singing.]
"Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.
All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour.
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two."
CURTAIN

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ACT III

Scene 1—The following summer,
[A field or meadow near Fiori. As the curtain rises voices are heard
off-stage singing a bridal song.]
SONG: Strew we flowers on their pathway!
Bride and bride-groom, go you sweetly.
There are roses on your pathway.
Bride and bride-groom, go you sweetly.
Sweetly live together.
[Enter Viola, Lilina, Lela, Arianna and Claudia, laden with
garlands, flowering boughs and baskets of flowers. They met
Anselmo coming from another direction, also bearing flowers.]
VIO. How beautiful, Anselmo! Where did you find them?
ANS. Close by the brook.
LIL. You gathered all there were?
ANS. Not by one hundredth part.
LEL. Nay, is it true?
We must have more of them!
ARI. And are they fragrant
As well?
ANS. Ay, by my heart, they are so sweet
I near to fainted climbing the bank with them.
[The ladies cluster about Anselmo and smell the flowers.]
LIL. Oh!
VIO. Ah!
CLA. How drowsily sweet!
LEL. Oh, sweet!
ARI. What fragrance!
[Enter Laura and Giovanna, followed by Carlotta and Raffaele.]
LAU. La, by my lung! I am as out of breath
As a babe new-born! Whew! Let me catch the air!
[She drops her flowers and seats herself beside them.]
CAR. [to the younger ladies and Anselmo, by way of greeting.]
How hot the sun is getting.
ANS. 'Tis nigh noon, I think.
GIO. 'Tis noon.
CLA. We must be starting back.
LAU. Not till I get my breath.
RAF. Come,—I will fan you. [He fans her with a branch,]
LAU. Tis good—'tis very good—oh, peace—oh, slumber—
Oh, all good things! You are a proper youth.
You are a zephyr. I would have you fan me
Till you fall dead.
CAR. I tell you when it comes
To gathering flowers, much is to be said
For spreading sheets on the grass,—it gives you less
The backache.
LAU. Nobly uttered, my sweet bird.
GIO. Yet brides must have bouquets.
CAR. And sit at home,
Nursing complexions, whilst I gather them,
LIL. [Running to Carlotta, along, with Lela and Viola, and throwing her
arms about her.]
Nay, out upon you now, Carlotta! Cease now
To grumble so,—'tis such a pretty day!
VIO. And weddings mean a ball!
LEL. And one may dance all night
At weddings!
LIL. Till one needs must dance to bed,
Because one cannot walk there!
GIO. And one eats
Such excellent food!
ANS. And drinks such excellent wine!
CLA. And seldom will you see a bride and bridegroom
More beautiful and gracious, or whom garlands
Do more become.
GIO. 'Tis so,—upon my sword!—
Which I neglected to bring with me—'tis so,
Upon Anselmo's sword!
CAR. Nay, look you, Laura!
You must not fall asleep! [to Raffaele] Have done, you devil!
Is it a poppy that you have there? [to Laura] Look you,
We must be starting back! [Laura rouses, then falls back again.]
LAU. Ay, that we must.
ARI. Where are the others?
ANS. Scattered all about.
I will call to them. Hola! You fauns and dryads!
Where are you?
VOICES. Here! Here! Is it time to go?
ANS. Come this way! We are starting back!
VOICES. We are coming!
We'll come in a moment! I cannot bear to leave
This place!
GIO. [As they enter] A thousand greetings, Clara!
Lucia, a thousand greetings! How now, Luigi!
I know you, man, despite this soft disguise!
You are no flower-girl!
LUI. I am a draught-horse,
That's what I am, for four unyielding women!
Were I a flower-girl, I'd sell the lot
For a bit of bread and meat—I am so hungry
I could eat a butterfly!
CAR. What ho. Francesca!
I have not seen you since the sun came up!
FRA. This is not I,—I shall not be myself
Till it goes down!
LEL. Oh, la, what lovely lilies!
FRA. Be tender with them—I risked my life to get them!
LIL. Where were they?
FRA. Troth, I do not know. I think
They were in a dragon's mouth.
LAU. [Suddenly waking] Well, are we going? [All laugh.]
LUI. No one is going that cannot go afoot.
I have enough to carry!
LAU. Nay; take me too!
I am a little thing. What does it matter—
One flower more?
LUI. You are a thousand flowers,
Sweet Laura,—you are a meadow full of them—
I'll bring a wagon for you.
CAR. Come. Come home.
[In the meantime the stage has been filling with girls and men
bearing flowers, a multitude of people, in groups and couples,
humming the song very softly. As Carlotta speaks several more
people take up the song, then finally the whole crowd. They move
off slowly, singing.]
SONG. "Strew we flowers on their pathway," etc.

Scene 2
[Bianca's boudoir in the palace at Fiori. Bianca with a mirror in
her hand, having her hair done by a maid. Several maids about,
holding perfume-flasks, brushes, and veils, articles of apparel of
one sort or another. Beatrice standing beside her, watching.]
BIA. Look at me, Rose-Red. Am I pretty enough,
Think you, to marry a King?
BEA. You are too pretty.
There is no justice in it. Marry a cobbler
And make a king of him. It is unequal,—
Here is one beggarly boy king in his own right,
And king by right of you.
BIA. Mario is not
A beggarly boy! Nay, tell me truly, Beatrice,
What do you think of him?
BEA. La, by my soul!
Have I not told you what I think of him
A thousand times? He is graceful enough, I tell you,
And hath a well-shaped head.
BIA. Nay, is that all?
BEA. Nay, hands and feet he hath, like any other.
BIA. Oh, out upon you for a surly baggage!
Why will you tease me so? You do not like him,
I think.
BEA. Snow-White! Forgive me! La, indeed,
I was but jesting! By my sacred word,
These brides are serious folk.
BIA. I could not bear
To wed a man that was displeasing to you.
Loving him as I do, I could not choose
But wed him, if he wished it, but 'twould hurt me
To think he did not please you.
BEA. Let me, then,
Set your sweet heart at rest. You could not find
In Christendom a man would please me more.
BIA. Then I am happy.
BEA. Aye, be happy, child.
BIA. Why do you call me child?
BEA. Faith, 'tis the season
O' the year when I am older than you. Besides
A bride is always younger than a spinster.
BIA. A spinster! Do you come here to me, Rose-Red,
Whilst I pinch you smartly! You, Arianna, push me
Her Highness over here, that I may pinch her!
[To Loretta.] Nay, is it finished? Aye, 'tis very well.
Though not so well, Loretta, as many a day
When I was doing nothing!—Nay, my girl,
'Tis well enough. He will take me as I am
Or leave me as I was.—You may come back
In half an hour, if you are grieved about it,
And do it again. But go now,—all of you.
I wish to be alone. [To Beatrice.] Not you.
[Exeunt all but Bea. and Bia.]
Oh, Rose-Red,
I trust 'twill not be long before I see you
As happy as you see me now!
BEA. Indeed,
I could not well be happier than I am.
You do not know, maybe, how much I love you.
BIA. Ah, but I do,—I have a measure for it!
BEA. Ay, for today you have. But not for long.
They say a bride forgets her friends,—she cleaves so
To her new lord. It cannot but be true.
You will be gone from me. There will be much
To drive me from your mind.
BIA. Shall I forget, then, When I am old, I ever was a child?
I tell you I shall never think of you
Throughout my life, without such tenderness
As breaks the heart,—and I shall think of you
Whenever I am most happy, whenever I am
Most sad, whenever I see a beautiful thing.
You are a burning lamp to me, a flame
The wind cannot blow out, and I shall hold you
High in my hand against whatever darkness.
BEA. You are to me a silver bell in a tower.
And when it rings I know I am near home.
Scene 3
[A room in the palace. Mario alone. Enter Beatrice.]
BEA. Mario! I have a message for you!—Nay,
You need not hang your head and shun me, Mario,
Because you loved me once a little and now
Love somebody else much more. The going of love
Is no less honest than the coming of it.
It is a human thing.
MAR. Oh, Beatrice!
What can I say to you?
BEA. Nay, but indeed.
Say nothing. All is said. I need no words
To tell me you have been troubled in your heart,
Thinking of me.
MAR. What can I say to you!
BEA. I tell you, my dear friend, you must forget
This thing that makes you sad. I have forgotten,
In seeing her so happy, that ever I wished
For happiness myself. Indeed, indeed,
I am much happier in her happiness
Than if it were my own; 'tis doubly dear,
I feel it in myself, yet all the time
I know it to be hers, and am twice glad.
MAR. I could be on my knees to you a lifetime,
Nor pay you half the homage is your due.
BEA. Pay me no homage, Mario,—but if it be
I have your friendship, I shall treasure it.
MAR. That you will have always.
BEA. Then you will promise me
Never to let her know. I never told her
How it was with us, or that I cherished you
More than another. It was on my tongue to tell her
The moment she returned, but she had seen you
Already on the bridge as she went by,
And had leaned out to look at you, it seems,
And you were looking at her,—and the first words
She said, after she kissed me, were, "Oh, sister,
I have looked at last by daylight on the man
I see in my dreams!"
MAR. [Tenderly.] Did she say that?
BEA. [Drily.] Ay, that
Was what she said.—By which I knew, you see,
My dream was over,—it could not but be you.
So that I said no word, but my quick blood
Went suddenly quiet in my veins, and I felt
Years older than Bianca. I drew her head
Down to my shoulder, that she might not see my face,
And she spoke on, and on. You must not tell her,
Even when you both are old, and there is nothing
To do but to remember. She would be withered
With pity for me. She holds me very dear.
MAR. I promise it, Rose-Red. And oh, believe me,
I said no word to you last year that is not
As true today! I hold you still the noblest
Of women, and the bravest. I have not changed.
Only last year I did not know I could love
As I love now. Her gentleness has crept so
Into my heart, it never will be out.
That she should turn to me and cling to me
And let me shelter her, is the great wonder
Of the world. You stand alone. You need no shelter,
Rose-Red.
BEA. It may be so.
MAR. Will you forgive me?
BEA. I had not thought of that. If it will please you,
Ay, surely.—And now, the reason for my coming:
I have a message for you, of such vast import
She could not trust it to a liv'ried page,
Or even a courier. She bids me tell you
She loves you still, although you have been parted
Since four o'clock.
MAR. [Happily.] Did she say that?
BEA. Ay, Mario.
I must return to her. It is not long now
Till she will leave me.
MAR. She will never leave you,
She tells me, in her heart.
BEA. [Happily.] Did she say that?
MAR. Ay, that she did, and I was jealous of you
One moment, till I called myself a fool.
BEA. Nay, Mario, she does not take from you
To give to me; and I am most content
She told you that. I will go now. Farewell,
Mario!
MAR. Nay, we shall meet again, Beatrice!

Scene 4
[The ball-room of the palace at Fiori, raised place in back,
surmounted by two big chairs, for Lorenzo and Octavia to sit while
the dance goes on. Dais on one side, well down stage, in full sight
of the audience, for Mario and Bianca. As the curtain rises the
stage is empty except for Fidelio, who sits forlornly on the bottom
steps of the raised place in the back of the stage, his lute across
his knees, his head bowed upon it. Sound of laughter and
conversation, possibly rattling of dishes, off stage, evidently a
feast going on.]
LAU. [Off stage.] Be still, or I will heave a plate at you!
LUIGI. [Off stage.] Nay, gentle Laura, heave not the wedding-crockery,
At the wedding-guest! Behold me on my knees
To tell the world I love you like a fool!
LAU. Get up, you oaf! Or here's a platter of gravy
Will add the motley to your folly!
LUIGI. Hold her,
Some piteous fop, that liketh not to see
Fine linen smeared with goose! Oh, gracious Laura,
I never have seen a child sucking an orange
But I wished an orange, too. This wedding irks me
Because 'tis not mine own. Shall we be married
Tuesday or Wednesday?
LAU. Are you in earnest, Luigi?
LUIGI. Ay, that I am, if never I was before.
LAU. La, I am lost! I am a married woman!
Water!—Nay, wine will do! On Wednesday, then.
I'll have it as far off as possible.
[Enter from banquet-room Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.]
GIO. Well met, Fidelio! Give us a song!
FID. Not I!
GUI. Why, is this? You, that are dripping with song
Weekdays, are dry of music for a wedding?
FID. I have a headache. Go and sit in a tree,
And make your own songs.
RAF. Nay, Fidelio.
String the sweet strings, man!
GIO. Strike the pretty strings!
GUI. Give us the silver strings!
FID. Nay then, I will that!
[He tears the strings off the lute and throws them in Guido's face.]
Here be the strings, my merry gentlemen!
Do you amuse yourselves with tying knots in them
And hanging one another!—I have a headache.
[He runs off, sobbing.]
RAF. What ails him, think you?
GIO. Troth, I have no notion.
[Enter Nurse.]
GUI. What ho, good Grazia! I hear my uncle
Is ill again!
GRA. Where heard you that, you raven?
GUI. Marry, I forget. Is't true?
GRA. It is as false
As that you have forgotten where you heard it.
Were you the heir to his power, which I bless God
You're not!—he'd live to hide the throne from you
Full many a long day yet!—Nay, pretty Guido,
Your cousin is not yet Queen,—and when she is—Faith,
She weareth a wide petticoat,—there'll be
Scant room for you beside her! [Exit Nurse across stage]
GUI. [To his companions.] None the less
I do believe the king is ill.
RAF. Who told you?
GUI. His wife. She is much exercised about him.
GIO. 'Tis like enough. This woman would rather lie
Than have her breakfast served to her in bed.
[Exeunt Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.]
[Music. Enter Musicians and take place on stage. Enter four pages
and take places on either side the door as from the banquet-hall and
on either side the throne in the back. Enter King and Queen, that is
to say Lorenzo and Octavia, Lorenzo apparently quite well, and seat
themselves on throne in back. Enter courtiers and ladies, Carlotta
with Anselmo, Laura with Luigi, etc., and stand in little groups
about the stage, laughing and talking together. Enter Beatrice
alone, her train held by two pages in black. Enter twelve little
Cupids, running, and do a short dance in the center of the room,
then rush to the empty dais which is awaiting Mario and Bianca, and
cluster about it. Enter Bianca and Mario, she in white and silver,
with a deep sky blue velvet train six yards long, held up by six
silver pages [or Cupids]; he in black and gold, with a purple velvet
train of the same length held by six gold pages [or Cupids]. His arm
is about her waist, she is leaning back her head against him and
looking up into his face. They come in slowly, talking softly
together, as utterly oblivious of the court, the pages, the music,
everything, as if they were a shepherd and a shepherdess walking
through a meadow. They walk slowly across the stage and seat
themselves on the dais. The music changes, strikes up a gay pavane,
or the equivalent of the period of the costumes, the ladies and
courtiers dance. Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele re-enter just as the
music starts and go up to the ladies; Guido goes to Beatrice, and
she dances with him. In the midst of the dance Lorenzo slips a
little sidewise in his chair, his head drops forward on his chest;
he does not move again. Nobody notices for some time. The dance
continues, all who are not dancing watching the dancers, save
Octavia, who watches with great pride and affection Bianca and
Mario, who in turn are looking at one another. Octavia turns finally
to speak to Lorenzo, stares at him, touches him, then screams.
Beatrice should then be in a conspicuous place in the dance. Music
stops in confusion on a dischord, dance breaks up wildly, everybody
rushes to throne.]

Scene 5
[The same room later that evening, entirely empty, disordered.
Musicians' benches overturned, for example, a couple of instruments
left about, garlands trampled on the floor, a wing of one of the
Cupids clinging to the dais of Bianca and Mario. Enter Beatrice,
weeping, goes to her father's throne and creeps up into it, with her
face towards the back of it and clings there, sobbing quietly. Enter
Bianca and Mario,]
BIA. [Softly.] Ay. She is here. I thought she would be here.
There are so many people by his bed
Even now, she cannot be alone with him.
MAR. Is there no hope?
BIA. Nay, there is none. 'Tis over.
He was a kind old man.
MAR. Come, let us go,
And leave her to herself.
BIA. Nay, Mario.
I must not leave her. She will sit like that
All night, unless I bid her come away,
And put her into bed.
MAR. Will you come to me
After she sleeps?
BIA. Ay. If she sleeps,
MAR. And if not?
BIA. I could not leave her.
MAR. Bianca, do you love me?
BIA. Ay, Mario!
MAR. Ah, but not as I love you!
BIA. You do not mean that, Mario; you know
How much I love you. But I could not be happy
Thinking of her awake in the darkness, weeping,
And all alone.
MAR. Oh, my sweet love.
BIA. It may be
She will sleep.
MAR. I shall be waiting for you. [They embrace.]
[Exit Mario. Bianca goes to Beatrice and sits at the
foot of the throne, putting her head against Beatrice's
feet.]
BIA. Sister.
[After a moment Beatrice slowly reaches down her hand, and
Bianca takes it.]
CURTAIN