A Double-Edged Sword. Brenda E. Novack

of Revenge to the last dregs. [Exits]

      Duke [to Valentio, who is pensive]:

      Why, thou dost look like to a lover

      Hopeless in his love. Clouded brows befit

      No bridegroom; certes not for such a bride!

      Rinieri:

      He marvels at his good fortune, methinks.

      Duke:

      Aye, that he should, in due order; but first

      Appoint a day to pledge his troth.

      Lamb.:

      Presently

      Your Highness. [going]

      Rinieri [whispers in Lamb.’s ear]:

      Told thee not the Duke is wise? [Exeunt]

      Act II

      Scene: A Room in Lambertuccio’s Castle

      As the curtain rises Beatrice is discovered pacing the room excitedly

      Beatrice:

      The sands have all run out, and still he tarries.

      O what can make him so belated? I

      Do fear some mishap hath befallen him.

      [She stops suddenly and listens]

      Can it be his footsteps?

      [finds that there was no sound]

      Troubled minds do thwart

      The natural offices of Nature. [She continues to pace the room]

      O if he comes not?

      [Several taps are heard. She rushes to the door]

      It is he at last! [Opens the door]

      Uberto:

      [still outside, cautiously protrudes his head inside]

      Art thou alone?

      Beatrice:

      Yea, have no fears;

      Father’s out and the maid is on an errand. [Uberto enters]

      My love, how cruel thou art to tarry

      So long! Methought that lovers do possess

      More gentle hearts. But no: the fire of Love

      Within thy breast must have expired, or else

      How couldst thou buy aught else with the dear price

      Of Love’s joy.

      Uberto:

      Let the warmth of my kisses

      Rather prove that it hath waxed stronger,

      Or if thou wilt but put thy hand unto

      My heart and feel how it doth throb for thee.

      But no! Its fire would surely scorch thy hand.

      And this is wherefore Love hath led me

      Hither, to lull it smart into the lap

      Of Sleep, with thy soft looks, though soon, alack

      To wake again with greater might. For oh!

      The cause of this my ailment is my cure,

      Like to that brazen serpent that God’s chosen

      People erected in the sandy ocean. [kisses her]

      Beatrice:

      O if this kiss could live forever, that I

      May cling to it and thus, remain in changeless

      Bliss amidst capricious Fate’s Eternal

      Inconstancy; or gazing into the Love-lit

      Depths of thy dark eyes, to plunge in their

      Infinitude until the very same

      Abode of thy chaste soul, and with it

      Mingle, and forget, as in the silent stream

      Of Lethe, fears more dark than silent nights,

      Conjured before my eyes in all shapes horrid.

      For lived we not those holy moments

      Stolen from the angels? (Not many may

      More attain), then what remains to us

      (Save death, to hold them back from Fate’s

      Eternal thievery) than decline dire

      And suffering if not estrangement?

      Uberto:

      Dear love, what wayward thoughts have slid into

      Thy beautiful little head! How can light

      And darkness dwell together in thy heart?

      Thy fears are fancy-woven; and what reward

      Have we to strain our weakling eyes in vain

      Essay to pierce the mist of the morrow?

      Let us enjoy the heaven-sent bliss ere ‘tis

      Too late.

      Beatrice:

      ‘Tis only wise to fear the tempest

      When the sea doth seems most calm. O why