ANTONIO: She is Helena?--the Greek?
CHARLES: She--Still you do not ail?--Yes, Helena, Who--But you are not well and cannot share This ravishment!--I will not ask it--now.
This ravishment!--Ah, she has stayed the tread And stilled the whispering of death: has called Echoes of youth from me! and all I feared....
I think--you are not well. Shall we go in?
CURTAIN.
ACT THREE
_Scene._--_The gardens of the castle. Paths meet under a large lime in the centre, where seats are placed. The wall of the garden crosses the rear, and has a postern. It is night of the same day, and behind a convent on a near hill the moon is rising. A nightingale sings._
_Enter GIULIA, CECCO, and NALDO._
GIULIA: That bird! Always so noisy, always vain Of gushing. Sing, and sing, sing, sing, it must!
As if n.o.body else would speak or sleep.
CECCO: Let the bird be, my jaunty. "Tis no lie The shrew and nightingale were never friends.
GIULIA: No more were shrew and serpent.
CECCO: Well what would You scratch from me?
GIULIA: If there is anything To be got from you, then it must be scratched.
CECCO: Yet shrews do not scratch serpents.
GIULIA: If they"re caught Where they can neither coil nor strike?
CECCO: Well, _I_ Begin to coil.
GIULIA: And I"ll begin to scotch You ere "tis done.--Give me the postern key.
CECCO: Your lady"s voice--but you are not your lady.
GIULIA: And were I you not long would be your lord"s.
Give me the key.
CECCO: I coil--I coil! will soon Be ready for a strike, my tender shrew.
GIULIA: Does the duke know you"ve hidden from his ear Antonio"s pa.s.sion? does he?--ah?--and shall I tell him? ah?
CECCO: You heard then----
GIULIA: He likes well What"s kept so thriftily.
CECCO (_scowling_): You want the key To let in Boro to chuck your baby face And moon with you! He"s been discharged--take care.
GIULIA: The duke might learn, too, you"re not clear between His ducats and your own.
CECCO: There then (_gives key_), but----
GIULIA (_as he goes_): Oh?
And shrews do not scratch serpents? You may spy, But others are not witless, I can tell you!
(_CECCO goes_.
Now, Naldo (_gives him key and writing_), do not lose the writing. But Should you, he must not come till two. For "tis At twelve the Greek will meet Antonio.
(_NALDO goes, through the postern: GIULIA to the castle._
_Enter HELENA and PAULA from another part of the gardens._
HELENA: At twelve, said he, at twelve, beside the arbor?
PAULA: Yes, mistress.
HELENA: I were patient if the moon Would slip less sadly up. She is so pale-- With longing for Endymion her lover.
PAULA: Has she a lover? Oh, how strange. Is it So sweet to love, my lady? I have heard Men die and women for it weep themselves Into the grave--yet gladly.
HELENA: Sweet? Ah, yes, To terror! for the edge of fate cares not How quick it severs.
PAULA: On my simple hills They told of one who slew herself on her Dead lover"s breast. Would you do so?
Would you, my lady?
HELENA: There"s no twain in love.
My heart is in my lord Antonio"s To beat, Paula, or cease with it.
PAULA: But died He far away?
HELENA: Far sunders flesh not souls.
Across all lands the hush of death on him Would sound to me; and, did he live, denial, Though every voice and silence spoke it, could Not reach my rest!--But he is near.
PAULA: O no, Not yet, my lady.
HELENA: Then some weariness Has pluckt the minutes" wings and they have crept.
PAULA: But "tis not twelve, else would we hear the band Of holy Basil from their convent peace Dreamily chant.
HELENA: Nay, hearts may hear beyond The hark of ears! Listen! to me his step Thrills thro" the earth.
(_ANTONIO approaches and enters the postern._) "Tis he! Go Paula, go: But sleep not.
(_PAULA hastens out._) (_Going to him._) My Antonio, I breathe, Now no betiding fell athwart thy path To stay thee from me!
ANTONIO: Stronger than all betiding This hour has reached and drawn me yearning to thee!
(_Takes her in his arms._)