Ber. Not for the wealth of worlds!
Gia. Nay, but thy bride awaits thee—
Ber. Go to her
And say I shall be there anon.
Gia. I will.
(Aside.) Now while he stands enchained within the spell
I'll to Rosalia's room and don his cloak
And cap, and sally forth to meet the duke.
'Tis now the hour, and if he come—so be it.
[Exit Giacomo.
Ber. (Alone.)
These delicate airs seem wafted from the fields
Of some celestial world. I am alone—
Then wherefore not inhale that deeper draught,
That sweet nepenthe which these other two,
When burning, shall dispense? 'Twere quickly done,
And I will do it!
(He places the two crucibles on the furnace.)
Now, sir alchemist,
Linger as long as it may suit thy pleasure—
'Tis mine to tarry here. Oh, by San John,
I'll turn philosopher myself, and do
Some good at last in this benighted world!
Now how like demons on the ascending smoke,
Making grimaces, leaps the laughing flame,
Filling the room with a mysterious haze,
Which rolls and writhes along the shadowy air,
Taking a thousand strange, fantastic forms;
And every form is lit with burning eyes,
Which pierce me through and through like fiery arrows!
The dim walls grow unsteady, and I seem
To stand upon a reeling deck! Hold, hold!
A hundred crags are toppling overhead.
I faint, I sink—now, let me clutch that limb—
Oh, devil! It breaks to ashes in my grasp!
What ghost is that which beckons through the mist?
The duke! the duke! and bleeding at the breast!
Whose dagger struck the blow? (Enter Giacomo.)
Gia. Mine, villain, mine!
What! thou'st set the other two aburning?
Impatient dog, thou cheat'st me to the last!
I should have done the deed—and yet 'tis well.
Thou diest by thine own dull hardihood!
Ber. Ha! is it so? Then follow thou!
Gia. My time
Is not quite yet, this antidote shall place
A bar between us for a little while.
(He raises a vial to his lips, drinks, and flings it aside.)