In my unbounded anguish, as the rage In lowest vassalage, the bleeding heart Have residence in virtue's breast, lo here, Re-enter D'AVOLOS behind. D'Av. At it already! admirable haste. Bright angel, that severer breath to cool f your too stony breast: you cannot urge No physic strong to cure a tortured mind, Here's ceremony with a vengeance! Bian. Rise up, we charge you, rise :-[he rises.]— What see you there that may persuade a hope Thy boldness with the forfeit of thy life. D'Av. Now, now, now the game's a-foot! Fern. Stay, go not hence in choler, blessed woman! You have school'd me; lend me hearing; though the float Of infinite desires swell to a tide Too high so soon to ebb, yet by this hand, [Kisses her hand. This glorious, gracious hand of yours D'Av. Ay, marry, the match is made: and hands clapp'd on it! Fern. I swear, Henceforth I never will as much in word, In letter, or in syllable, presume To make a repetition of my griefs. Good night t'ye! if, when I am dead, you rip This coffin of my heart, there shall you read For ever, lady, now good night! Bian. Good night! Rest in your goodness: lights there. Enter Attendants with lights. Sir, good night. [Exeunt sundry ways. SCENE III. BIANCA and FERNANDO. Bian. With shame and passion now I must con fess, Since first mine eyes beheld you, in my heart You have been only king; if there can be A violence in love, then I have felt Fernando, in short words, howe'er my tongue Poor wretched woman lived that loved like me, Fern. Oh, madam! Bian. Now hear me out. When first Caraffa, Pavy's duke, my lord, Not mov'd by counsel, or removed by greatness; I have done so: nor was there in the world Bian. True, I do, Beyond imagination! if no pledge Of love can instance what I speak is true, But loss of my best joys, here, Fernando, Fern. What do you mean? Bian. If thou dost spoil me of this robe of shame, By my best comforts, here I vow again, To thee, to heaven, to the world, to time, Ere yet the morning shall new-christen day, I'll kill myself! Fern. Come, come; how many women, pray, Bian. Fernando, Jest not at my calamity.-I kneel— [Kneels. By these dishevell'd hairs, these wretched tears, By all that's good, if what I speak my heart Think me a common and most cunning harlot, as you list. Bian. No, by the faith I owe my bridal vows! [Kisses him. Fern. You have prevail'd; and Heaven forbid that I Should by a wanton appetite profane This sacred temple! 't is enough for me You'll please to call me servant. Bian. Nay, be thine: Command my power, my bosom; and I'll write Fern. Enough; I'll master passion, and triumph Bian. The latter I new-vow-but day comes on! What now we leave unfinish'd of content, Each hour shall perfect up: sweet, let us part. Remember this, and think I speak thy words: Fern. Your most faithful servant. [The scene closes. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE and D'AVOLOS. Duke. Thou art a traitor: do not think the gloss Of smooth evasion, by your cunning jests, And coinage of your politician's brain, Shall jig me off; I'll know 't, I vow I will. Did not I note your dark abrupted ends Of words half-spoke? your "wells, if all were known ?" Your short, "I like not that?" your girds and "buts?" D'Av. What would you know, my lord? I confess I owe my life and service to you, as to my prince; the one you have, the other you may take from me at your pleasure. Should I devise matter to feed your distrust, or suggest likelihoods without appearance? what would you have me say? I know nothing. Duke. Thou liest, dissembler; on thy brow I read Distracted horrors figured in thy looks. On thy allegiance, D'Avolos, as e'er Shall be our special thanks, and love unterm'd :" D'Av. Oh my disaster! my lord, I am so charmed by those powerful repetitions of love and duty, that I cannot conceal what I know of your dishonour. And love unterm'd,] i. e. inexpressible; or rather, perhaps, interminable.-GIFFORD. |