Читать книгу A Double-Edged Sword - Brenda E. Novack - Страница 9

Scene: A Public Square in Florence

[Enter three citizens]

1st citizen [to 2nd citizen, who is silent]: Now, now, why are you so silent? What disturbing thoughts have robbed you of speech?

2nd citizen: Nay, fears that lie deeper than the sounding of words.

1st citizen: Come man; surely you mean not one of those petty fears which ever dye your cheeks with a sickly hue!

2nd citizen: I heartily wish it were so. But wait; has it not reached your ears what has sped a few days past? ‘tis now the general talk of Florence.

3rd citizen: Mean you the broil betwixt the Ameidei and Uberto and his friend Valentio?

2nd citizen: No other.

1st citizen: Well, well; broils, what else? This sound is new to my ears.

2nd citizen: Lend them to me, then, and I’ll repeat to you what imperfect knowledge has been carried to mine by the wind of rumour. For reasons not known (though some alleged it to be no more than the heat of the occasion) which methink must have been deeply rooted in his heart, nourished by passing time: a concealed hate that clad in words gave vent to itself, Oddo (a youth full fiery and bold) flung hot insults in Uberto’s furious face in the midst of a banquet gathering the Flower of the town, whilst in noisy merriment and lavish feasting where the gilded cups were never emptied of golden wine. . . . Uberto, impatient of the insult, restrained not his wounded pride from answering back in sharpest terms; whereupon Oddo, replying with his sword assailed the unexpecting youth, and would surely have slain him, had not Valentio, with friendly rage, and with eager arm forced Odd’s sword to miss its mark; nay, more, he carved a deep gash in Odd’s frame, and would have added more had he not deemed it answer enough to Oddo’s arrogance. Hereupon the banquet was drawn into two and a general fight might have concluded, and God wot what noble blood might have flowed that day, had not some more sober among them scattered the aroused parties. I know no more. But my scarce knowledge is a rich foreboding of a tempest drawing nigh which will hurl its thunderbolts on our reposing town and burn it with Hellish fire.

3rd citizen: Your fears are no baseless fancy-fabric. Foul rumours (more foul than their begetters) infest the startled air: Oddo’s kin, ‘tis claimed, declining bloodless terms, are banding themselves and drawing to them their scattered forces, and many a friendly house in Florence looks with favouring eyes on these matters.

1st citizen: ‘Tis hard indeed for my credulence to grant this strange news; my fancy revolts to figure these peaceful streets made a bloody battlefield.

2nd citizen: Amen! [to 3rd citizen] And in what manner has the Duke welcomed the news?

3rd citizen: ‘Tis not yet known. But he’s our only hope. Let’s pray that he will prevent this coming woe, that these foul rumours may seem the idle inventions of overwrought brains, with no more substance of truth than a dream. Exeunt

[Enter Oddo, Lambertuccio, and Rinieri]

Lamb. [to Oddo]:

Of thy new broil, which adds one more to the

Quick-swelling number of thy foolish deed

I’m well informed, and Florence echoes it;

What’s graver yet, that thou art minded

Of bitter strife and bloody commerce,

And wouldst not espouse fair Peace.

Oddo:

Fair Peace!

‘Twere fair indeed wedded to downcast-eyed

Disgrace! Thy words fall on my startled ear

Like sounds from some strange land; that, thou should’st know

Being of D’Ameidei’s blood, as I; but ‘tis not strange

To thee since they’re thy lips that are guilty.

Peace, how dearly bought, when purchased with

The coins of shame!

Rinieri:

Disgrace there’s naught; for it

Dwells not with valour, whose right arm thou art;

Rather ‘twill be made known that ‘tis but through

Disdain to strike and not through fear that thou

Returnest not Valentio’s blows with like [after a pause]

Though even if thou didst truly fear to rouse

His kin, whose name makes half of Florence

Tremble, thy valour’s sheen would not be dulled.

Lamb.:

Most wisely said; and yet, thou wrongest us

By doubt; were our cause just, naught could make us

Decline the field though all the powers of Hell

Were to oppose us. But with Valentio

Doth justice abide, and to him Justice

Shall be administered. Then is not Peace

The least we can offer?

Oddo:

Name not again

That hateful word which falls like to the screech

Of night’s foul bird on my enraged ear,

And makes my blood seethe in my throbbing veins.

Lamb.:

Thou speakest not words by sober reason tamed;

O wilt then have Florence aflame with war?

(Thou canst not be ignorant how it unloosens

The chained might of Evil, marring

The beauty of the world with blood and fire,

Making of it a Hell, where it should be

A human Paradise) and shall we fight

Betwixt ourselves and let the envious foes

Of happy Florence be merry at her woe?

This incident is of light consequence:

Leave it to time, ‘twill heal both wounds alike.

Oddo:

Bid me forget all things dear to my heart,

And all the joys of life, yea life itself,

And lie in a cold tomb and rot; but not

That bold outrage that left the eloquent mark

Of its mockery on my revolting frame

An everlasting stain, exposed to scorn,

Traced by pointing fingers, which when point not

Eyes cry: “Behold the white-cheeked coward”!

Rinieri [aside, reflecting on Oddo’s last words]

Poor Honour, how I pity thee, since thou

Hast naught save wavering opinion

To nourish thee, and thou art swayed by the

Caprice of mere men, and by every blast

Of various thought; aye, thou art miserable!

I would not have thee in my company. [to Lamb. and Oddo]

Let’s to the Duke, since you’re at variance;

Whose sound and noble mind hath earned him fame

Like Israel’s old sceptered sage; for their Justice

His mild domain unfurls.

Oddo [aside]:

To that old fool! [in a loud voice]

Aye, to demand justice, denied me here,

But if I find it not, I’ll seek it elsewhere. Exeunt. [Oddo stays behind, muttering between his teeth]:

Thou shalt escape me not, for all their words. [Exit Oddo]

[Enter Duke of Florence, attended by his retinue, Flourish.]

Duke [aside]:

O most unhappy Florence; how soon the somber

Shadows of dire destruction threaten

To fall again on thy life’s sunny way

And bleach the rosy cheeks with pallid fear,

Repeating for the hundredth time the sorry

Tale in its bloody history. O Sodom

Doomed to be dyed for e’er with running gore,

Thy silent streets for ever haunted by

The specter of death, and they great palaces

The banquet-halls of reveling Mars!

O for these haughty slaves whose hearts rejoice

In civil blood, rather than to unsheathe

Their eager words in the stern faces

Of Florence’s common foes; while I am doomed

To play a poor spectator’s sorry part

Possessing not the power to do aught else,

Compelled to taste the bitterness to be

In name the ruler, in power not.

But could I force the fleeting years retrace

Their dusty steps, regain the heart unflinching

And stout, of youth, pour ardour warm and zeal

Herculean might to my sore trembling arms,

I would not linger here uttering vain words.

O idle wish bred of impotency!

What redress doth remain save to assay

To reconcile the alienated hearts?

[Re-enter Oddo, Lamb., Valentio, and Rinieri]

Oddo [addressing the Duke]:

My Lord, I come demanding that Justice

Be done to me.

Duke:

Hast thou been wronged?

Oddo:

Aye, wronged,

Abused, scorned in the midst of gentlemen,

And made a Justice-seeking fool, the while

The root and source of all that roameth free

Like as the fowls of heaven, and perchance

To my undoing.

Duke:

Thou awakenest

My curiousness to learn the name of the bold

Offender: pray how goes it?

Oddo:

A name

My furious lips would scorch if they assay

To spell it: ‘tis no stranger to your ear.

Rinieri:

It spells ‘Valentio,’ Your Highness.

[Enter Valentio and Uberto]

Duke:

Ah here he comes. [to Valentio] This gentleman [pointing to Oddo] doth claim

Amends for certain wrongs that he maintains

Thou hast done him. How wouldst thou defend

Thyself against this charge?

Valentio [after a pause]:

My silence, both

With his wound plead him right.

Uberto:

Not so, my Lord,

‘Tis I, not he who needs should suffer Thy wrath.

Valentio:

Nay, heed him not, my Lord; he speaks

Thus, driven by a generous nature.

Duke [to Valentio and Uberto]:

Verrily

I marvel greatly at your words: I have

Not seen before this day men enamoured

So much to punishment! I do commend

Your noble friendship, but yet I demand

To know who the offender is.

Valentio:

‘Tis I.

Uberto:

Nay, ‘tis I.

Duke [reflecting]:

Since each of you would fain

So firmly bear the charge and doth abide

Unshaken in his judgment, it meseems

Well to devise some other way to extricate

Us from this difficulty. [to Lamb.] A daughter fair

Hast thou, if I am well informed: a maid

More fair than heaven’s sun, but not a whit

Less scorching, whom I did behold one day

Happier than any in my life, and so

Surpassing fair was she that amorous Time,

Wounded by the darts of Love fled with haste

Lest he be wounded more, that I knew not how;

And she made ma sore rune my palsied age

And envy most bold youth.

Lamb. [bowing low]:

My Lord, you flood

My humble self with all this generous praise,

Beyond all hope of thanks I abide

In debt.

Duke:

She’s called Beatrice, is it not so?

Uberto [aside, with his hand on his heart]:

Hush, fond heart,

Thou makest me believe it was her name I heard!

Oddo [aside, impatiently]:

The devil, the Duke turned out a doting lover!

Duke:

Most becoming name for one who doth

Have eyes that make the jealous Queen of Night

To quit with shame and heaven’s lights burn out

Themselves with spite.

Uberto [aside]:

Of her he must be speaking, since to whom

Other than her can this description fit.

But yet I fear my ears do play me false,

Or I awake in an idle dream

With semblance of reality.

Duke:

She is

A virgin rose but newly blown from the bud.

‘Tis seemly that the amorous butterflies

Should woo her from her maiden dreams.

Lamb.:

Mean you

My Lord: that she should marry?

Duke:

Aye, that I meant.

Uberto [aside]:

O joy! What glorious hope doth swell from out the dark

Deeps of my heart, like as the glorious break of day

After a weary night; and yet I dare not

Cherish it for long, and feed it with my

Slumbering dreams lest its life’s span

Be brief even as it is glorious.

Lamb.:

To whom,

My Lord

Duke:

Why, to Valentio;

And the gall of hatred will pass away

Like as a summer cloud.

Oddo [aside, angrily]:

By Beelzebub!

A lunatic would not utter such a damned outrage! [aloud]

My Lord, surely you are but jesting, though

I must avow it doth amuse me not.

Uberto [aside]:

Great heavens! heard you all this? No, No,

It cannot be! What man would steal my Love

From me; no not my friend! My wrought fancy

Is fooling me. Aye, ‘tis my fancy.

[tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow, and he starts]

But wherefore

My laugh sounds so, and wherefore do I start?

Duke [to Oddo]:

Why dost thou marvel; ‘tis very simple. [to Valentio] What

Sayst thou?

Valentio:

My thanks to Your Highness for your

Most generous offer; but whether I do

Espouse a maiden fair or else a colder Fate

‘Tis one to me; nay, if any of the gentlemen

Doth wish, by reason of aught whate’er,

To th’ contrary of what Your Highness

Did propose, ‘tis my desire to bear your wrath

And punishment than be mistook

For some wife-sheltered coward.

Duke [turning to Lamb. and Oddo]:

What say you?

Lamb.:

I’m of your mind, Your Highness.

Oddo:

I’m not—you’re murdering Justice!

Lamb.:

Nay, it is

My private right to grant consent, or to

Refrain. [to Rinieri]

What thinkest thou?

Rinieri:

‘Tis proper that

He doth espouse thy daughter.

[in an undertone] He seems

A worthy gentleman.

Valentio:

My Lord, I . . . .

Duke [interrupting him]:

No more protests!

Oddo:

You band yourselves

‘Gainst me. I shall abide it no more. [aside, looking at Buondelmonte with flaming eyes and clenched fist]

Thou hast again escaped me: and with

A beautiful bride! Blessed Sleep, visit no more

These burning eyes, and O light-hearted Ease,

Forsake my breast till I do quaff the sweet

Wine 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]