[The sound of the tempest increases, and voices are heard within.
VOICES WITHIN. We sink! we sink! we're lost!
DEMON [within]. For what I have in hand,
I'll trust this plank to bear me to the land.
CYPRIAN. As scorning the wild wave
One man alone his life attempts to save.
While lurching over, mid the billows' swell,
The great ship sinks to where the Tritons dwell;
There, with its mighty ribs asunder rent,
It lies a corse of the sea, its grave and monument.
[Enter The Demon, dripping with wet, as if escaped from the sea.
DEMON [aside]. For the end I wish to gain
It was of necessity
That upon this sapphire sea
I this fearful storm should feign,
And in form unlike that one
Which in this wild wood I wore,
When I found my deepest lore
By his keener wit outdone,
Come again to assail him here,
Trusting better now to prove
Both his intellect and his love.—
[Aloud.
Earth, loved earth, O mother dear,
From this monster, this wild sea,
Give me shelter in thy arms.
CYPRIAN. Lose, my friend, the dread alarms,
And the cruel memory
Of thy peril happily past;
Since we learn or late or soon,
That beneath the inconstant moon
Human bliss doth never last.
DEMON. Who are thou, at whose kind feet
Has my fortune cast me here?
CYPRIAN. One who with a pitying tear,
For a ruin so complete,
Would alleviate your woe.
DEMON. Ah, impossible!—for me
Never, never, can there be
Any solace.
CYPRIAN. How, why so?
DEMON. All my priceless wealth I've lost...
But I'm wrong to thus complain,
I'll forget, nay, think it gain,
Since my life it hath not cost.
CYPRIAN. Now that the wild whirl malign
Of this earthquake storm doth cease,
And the sky returns to peace,
Quiet, calm, and crystalline,
And the bright succeeds the dark
With such strange rapidity,
That the storm would seem to be
Only raised to sink thy bark,
Tell me who thou art, repay
Thus a sympathy so sincere.
DEMON. It has cost me to come here
More than you have seen to-day,
More than I can well express;
Of the miseries I recall
This ship's loss is least of all.
Would you see that clearly?
CYPRIAN. Yes.
DEMON. I am since you wish to know it,
An epitome, a wonder*
Of all happiness and misfortune,
One I have lost, I weep the other.
By my gifts was I so glorious,
So conspicuous in my order,
Of a lineage so illustrious,
With a mind so well informed,
That my rare endowments feeling,
A great king (in truth the noblest
King of Kings, for all would tremble
If he looked in anger on them,)
In his palace roofed with diamonds
And with gems as bright as morning,
(If I called them stars, 'tis certain
The comparison were too modest,)
His especial favourite called me.
Which high epithet of honour
So enflamed my pride, as rival
For his royal seat I plotted,
Hoping soon my victor footsteps
Would his golden thrones have trodden.
It was an unheard-of daring,
THAT, chastized I must acknowledge,
I was mad; but then repentance
Were a still insaner folly.
Obstinate in my resistance,
With my spirit yet unconquered,
I preferred to fall with courage
Than surrender with dishonour.
If the attempt was rash, the rashness
Was not solely my misfortune,
For among his numerous vassals
Not a few my standard followed.
From his court, in fine, thus vanquished,
Though part victor in the contest,
I went forth, my eyes outflashing
Flames of anger and abhorrence,
And my lips proclaiming vengeance
For the public insult offered
To my pride, among his people
Scattering murder, rapine, horror.
Then a bloody pirate, I
The wide plains of the sea ran over,
Argus of its dangerous shallows,
Lynx-eyed where the reefs lay covered;
In that vessel which the wind
Bit by bit so soon demolished,
In that vessel which the sea
As a dustless ruin swallowed,
I to-day these fields of crystal
Eagerly ran o'er, my object
Being stone by stone to examine,
Tree by tree to search this forest:—
For a man in it is living,
Whom it is of great importance
I should see, this day expecting
The fulfilment of a promise
Which he gave and I accepted.
This infuriate tempest stopped me.
And although my powerful genius
Could chain up east, south, and north wind,
I cared not, as if despairing
Of success, with other objects,
Other aims in view, to turn them
To the west wind's summer softness.—
[Aside.
(I have said I could, but did not,
For I note the dangerous workings
Of his mind, and thus to magic
Bind him by these hints the stronger.)
Let not my wild fury fright thee,
Nor be at my power astonished,
For I could my own death give me,
If I were by rage so prompted,
And so great that power, the sunlight,
By my science could be blotted.
I, in magic am so mighty,
That I can describe the orbits
Of the stars, for I have travelled
Through the farthest and beyond them.
And in order that this boasting
May not seem to you mere bombast,
Look, if at this very instant
You desire it, this untrodden
Nimrod of rude rocks more savage
Than of Babylon is recorded,
Shall without a leaf being shaken,
Show the most horrific portents.
I am, then, the orphan guest here
Of these ash-trees, of these poplars,
And though what I am, assistance
At thy feet here I ask from thee:
And I wish the good I purchase
To repay thee with the product
Of unnumbered years of study,
Though it now slight effort costs me,
Giving to your wildest wishes
[Aside.
(Here I touch his love,) the fondest
Longings of your heart, whatever
Passion can desire or covet.
If through courtesy or caution
You should not accept my offer,
Let my good intentions pay you,
If from greater acts you stop me.
For the pity that you show me,
Which I thankfully acknowledge,
I will be a friend so faithful,
That henceforth the changeful monster
Of events and acts, called Fortune,
Which 'twixt flattering words and scornful,
Generous now, and now a miser,
Shows a friendly face or hostile,
Neither it nor that laborious
Ever flying, running worker,
Time, the loadstone of the ages,
Nor even heaven itself, heaven proper,
To whose stars the dark world oweth
All its most divine adornment,
Will have power to separate me
From your side a single moment,
Since you here have given me welcome.
And even this is almost nothing
When compared with what my wishes
Hope hereafter to accomplish.
[footnote] *Asonante in 1-3, to the end of the speech.
CYPRIAN. Well to the sea, my thanks are due, that bore
You struggling to the shore,
And led you to this grove,
Where you will quickly prove
The friendly feelings that inflame my breast,
If happily I merit such a guest.
Then let us homeward wend,
For I esteem you now as an old friend.
My guest you are, and so you must not leave me
While my house suits you.
DEMON. Do you then receive me
Wholly as yours?
CYPRIAN [embracing him]. This act doth prove it true,
That seals an eternal bond betwixt us two.—
[Aside.
Oh! if I could win o'er
This man to instruct me in his magic lore!
Since by that art my love might gain
Some solace for its pain;
Or yielding to its mighty laws
My love at length might win my love's sweet cause—
The cause of all my torment, madness, rage.
DEMON [aside]. The working of his mind and love I gauge.
SCENE VIII.
CLARIN and MOSCON enter running from opposite sides.
CYPRIAN and The Demon.
CLARIN. Oh! are you sir, alive?
MOSCON. My friend, do you
Speak civilly for once as something new?
That he's alive requires no demonstration.
CLARIN. I struck this lofty note of admiration,
Thou noble lackey, to express my wonder,
How from this storm of lightning, rain, and thunder,
Without a miracle he could survive.
MOSCON. Will you stop wondering, now you see him alive?
CYPRIAN. These are my servants, sir.—
What brings you here?
MOSCON. Your spleen once more to stir.
DEMON. They have a pleasant humour.
CYPRIAN. Foolish pair,
Their weary wit is oft too hard to bear.
MOSCON. This man, sir, waiting here,
Who is he?
CYPRIAN. He's my guest, so do not fear.
CLARIN. Wherefore have guests at such a time as this?
CYPRIAN [to The Demon]. Your worth is lost on ignorance such as his.
MOSCON. My master's right. Are you, forsooth, his heir?
CLARIN. No; but our new friend there,
Looks like a guest, unless I deceive me, who
Will honour our poor house a year or two.
MOSCON. Why?
CLARIN. When a guest soon means to go away,
Well, he'll not make much smoke in the house, we say.
But this....
MOSCON. Speak out.
CLARIN. Will make, I do not joke..
MOSCON. What?
CLARIN. In the house a deuced deal of smoke.
CYPRIAN. In order to repair
The danger done by the rude sea and air,
Come thou with me.
DEMON. [Aside.] I'm thine, while thou hast breath.
CYPRIAN. I go to prepare thy rest.
DEMON [aside]. And I thy death:—
An entrance having gained
Within his breast, and thus my end obtained;
My rage insatiate now without control
Seeks by another way to win Justina's soul.
[Exit.
CLARIN. Guess, if you can, what I am thinking about.
MOSCON. What is it?
CLARIN. That a new volcano has burst out
In the late storm, there's such a sulphur smell.
MOSCON. It came from the guest, as my good nose could tell.
CLARIN. He uses bad pastilles, then; but I can
Infer the cause.
MOSCON. What is it?
CLARIN. The poor gentleman
Has a slight rash on his skin, a ticklish glow,
And uses sulphur ointment.
MOSCON. Gad! 'tis so.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
THE STREET.
LELIUS and FABIUS.
FABIUS. You return, then, to this street.
LELIUS. Yes; the life that I deplore
I return to seek once more
Where 'twas lost. Ah! guide my feet,
Love, to find it!—
FABIUS. That house there
Is Justina's; come away.
LELIUS. Wherefore, when I will to-day
Once again my love declare.
And as she, I saw it plain,
Trusted some one else at night,
'Tis not strange, in open light,
That I try to soothe my pain.
Leave me, go; for it is best
That I enter here alone.
My rank in Antioch is known,
My father Governor; thus drest
In his robe as 'twere, my strong
Passion listening to no mentor,
I Justina's house will enter
To protest against my wrong.
[Exeunt.
SCENE X.
A HALL IN THE HOUSE OF LYSANDER.
JUSTINA, and afterwards LELIUS.
JUSTINA. Livia.... But a step! who's there?
[LELIUS enters
LELIUS. It is I.
JUSTINA. What novelty,
What extreme temerity,
Thus, my lord, compels you?...
LELIUS. Spare
Your reproaches. Jealous-grown,
I can bear that you reprove.
Pardon me, for with my love
My respect has also flown.
JUSTINA. Why, at such a perilous cost
Have you dared...
LELIUS. Because I'm mad.
JUSTINA. To intrude....
LELIUS. Heart-broken, sad.
JUSTINA. Here....
LELIUS. Because, in truth, I'm lost.
JUSTINA. Nor perceive how scandal views
Such an act as now you do
'Gainst....
LELIUS. Be not so moved, for you
Little honour now can lose.
JUSTINA. Lelius, spare at least my fame.
LELIUS. Ah, Justina, it were best
That this language you addressed
Unto him who nightly came
Down here from this balcony;—
'Tis enough for me to show
All your lightness that I know,
That less coy and cold to me
Your pretended honour prove.
If I am disdained, displaced,
'Tis another suits your taste,
Not that you your honour love.
JUSTINA. Silence, cease, your words withhold.
Who with insult e'er before
Dared to pass my threshold's door?
Are you then so blind and bold,
So audacious, so insane,
As my pure light to eclipse,
Through the libel of your lips,
By chimeras false and vain?—
In my house a man?
LELIUS. 'Tis so.
JUSTINA. From my balcony?
LELIUS. With shame
I repeat it.
JUSTINA. O, my fame,
O'er us twain your Aegis throw.