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Osio (as they come down).

Proof from the teeth of aliens and fools

And infidels that follow their own reason?

I want no proof! your books should burn in Hell!

Rizzio (gaily).

Because they glorify the stars in heaven?

Osio.

I say they are heresy!

Rizzio.

And I say truth!

That were your ears not stopped with sophistries

And Jesuitry you would adjudge divine!

Bruno.

Ai, Signor Osio, there's no denying!

We need but look,

To learn that stars are worlds

Swung out upon infinitudes of space.

And as for earth —

Tho Christ shed blood upon it —

'Tis but a pilgrim flame among them all.

Osio (turning upon him).

And you, a monk, will say so to the Church

And to the Holy Office?

Bruno (in humorous alarm).

God forbid!

Osio.

And you, Rizzio, who on your wedding-day,

Mid rites of Venus

And revels to Apollo,

Wear pagan robes – and prink others in them —

Rizzio.

Ho, others! meaning Porzia?

Osio.

I say —

Rizzio (laughing at him).

What, what, my merry raging brother, more?

That Pan is not your god, whom I but now

Besought for inward beauty and truth of soul?

No, no, he is not, by Vesuvius!

Osio.

I say —

Rizzio.

That Plato and the ancients are

A plague which only the Pope can purge from earth?

Ai! to the flames with them, and with all fairness!

Osio.

I say that you —

Rizzio.

Hey, yea! that I who fall

Not on my knees to mitred villainy —

Or cringe to crosiered craft —

And yet whose life is lit for truth and freedom —

Am viler far than you

Who take your pleasure and pay it with confession?

Who think the Devil with faith would be no Devil?

You hear it, Bruno?

Osio.

I say there is one thing

You shall not do!

Rizzio.

So-ho! my lordly brother,

My breaker of betrothals – if not creeds —

And that is what?

Osio.

I will protect her from it!

Rizzio.

Her?

Osio.

Porzia! from the passion of your lies!

Rizzio (stung, staring).

By … all the saints

and fiends and incubi

That ever infested night and nunneries!

What frenzy now is biting at your brain!

Is she your wife, so to concern your care?

Porzia (who sees, and with Bianca comes quickly, winningly down).

Heresy! heresy! truth and heresy!

Are there no other words in all the world

To pour as wine

Upon a wedding-day! —

Are these your ways, my newly wedded lord,

To leave me, an hour's bride, away from home —

From my dear uncle's home —

With but a friend or two for comforting —

And bandy words of other stars than those

You swear to see when gazing in my eyes!

Rizzio (responsively).

My Porzia!

Porzia.

No, no! I'll not forgive you!

For is it not ill boding to our bridals

You quarrel over the heavens – and not me!

My beauty, he says, this husband I have taken,

Is life – and yet ere 'tis an hour his

Forgets to live on it! – and Osio,

The brother of him, —

E'en Osio there —

Rizzio (gay again).

Who swears he will protect you!

Porzia.

Protect?

Rizzio.

Against the heresy of robes

Of pagan fashion – and against your husband!

Porzia.

I do not understand – unless you jest,

As oft – too oft you do!

Or mean perchance Bianca … unto whom

He was betrothed

And whom he would, this breath,

Be wooing again, were I, not words, your bride!

But see, here is Marina! the dance awaits!

Let us go in and give ourselves to Joy,

For Misery is quick enough to take us,

If first we do not wed us to her rival!

Is it not so?

Rizzio (with passion).

Or sun has never shone!

So in! the tarantelle! (as Tasso enters) And then a song

From Messer Tasso, who would be divine,

Did he love Venus as he fears the Church,

Apollo as he shuns the Inquisition!

In! – Osio, will you come?

Osio.

I will not.

Rizzio.

Then

Dance with your own mad humors and delusions

Here to Vesuvius and to the sea, —

Or to Bianca plead your pardon!

(To the rest) Come!

For in this world there's but one heresy,

Denial of the divinity of Joy!

Osio (when their steps have died; in cold rage).

You shall hear more of this, my pretty brother!

Prater of pagan doubts!

Whom – but that God may use it – I would curse

For the resemblance that our mother gave us!

For, by the living blood of San Gennaro,

In yon Duomo, the scoffing siren song

Of heresy that swells in you shall cease,

Tho it shall take the sweat of the rack to hush it!

You shall hear more!..

Bianca (who has stood long indignant).

And others shall hear more!

Others who fix upon me this affront

Of broken and humiliate betrothals!

Yes! you have made of me a thing of shame

Here in the eyes

Of those who're alien to me!

That you have loved me not – or love me less

Than once you did, too well I came to know —

I – with the blood in me of the Medici! —

And now it is open prate!.. But do you think

The women of my city want resentment,

Or less than these sun-lusting ones of Naples

Know how to cool their wrath?

Osio.

I think you mad —

In a mad maze —

And yield it no concern;

Nor shall – (meaningly) until a thing you know is done.

As to betrothals, give your memory breath:

Ours was agreed to end as either willed.

Bianca (as he returns).

And you, weary of it, have utterly

Chosen to end it?

Osio.

Have I so affirmed?

Bianca (springing up).

I will not have evasions, Osio!

Shiftings and turnings

Radiant of hopes

That torture expectation till it breaks.

And yet – perchance it is as well they come

Now … while there yet is time for more withdrawals.

Osio (starting).

More?

Bianca.

For – I fear all trust in you is folly;

And that the heresy of Rizzio

Which I agreed with you to take unto

Monsignor Querio —

Osio (clenching).

Shall not be taken?

Not! but you leave the brunt to me alone?

Bianca.

You purpose more, I think, than to restrain him.

Osio.

And you more than abjuring! You would gaze

Upon his godless schisms, …

Upon the naked luring of his lies!

Bianca.

No! Tho the beauty of them —

Osio.

Beauty! beauty!

That wind of infidelity from Hell

He blows out of his lips do you call beauty!

No! – and he with his poets and philosophers,

His Platos

And star-mad Copernicas,

And that Dominican, Giordano Bruno,

For whom the stake to flames will yet be lit,

Shall learn you are too late in your relenting!

Bianca (stricken).

Too … late!

Osio.

His heresies shall reap their due.

Bianca (death-pale).

Which means – that you

already have revealed them!

Have sent unto Monsignor Querio

To-day —

Rizzio's wedding-day! —

For that

It was you sought out Matteo, who, pledged

Unto Marina,

As were you to me,

Has broke his troth?..

And now, now you await him? – O was not

Your promise to me that a week should pend

Ere any step?

Osio.

I will not lose my soul,

And dallying is the feebleness of fools.

Bianca.

And will lies save it – tho they be for Heaven! —

To one who nigh has lost her soul for you?

We have been friends, Osio, long been friends,

And, woman that I am, I would 'twere more,

But in this I suspect —

Osio.

Enough! we prate!

I say enough.

Bianca.

And I say all too little,

Until I tell you now plain to your face,

And to your heart

Plunging toward this passion,

That not alone a hate of heresy

Is haunting you to it, but that the lips

And eyes and brows and soul of —

Osio.

Will you cease!

Bianca.

I tell you that you love her – Porzia!

And veer but to the vision of her face!

Osio (who after strangling silence finds words).

If you say that, Bianca, ever again

Or if, by all the demons that Avernus

Pours out upon the black Phlegraean fields,

You hint it or suggest it to her, till —

Bianca.

Till you achieve her! and have wrapped the rites

Of the Church round your achieving?

Till you have severed her from Rizzio —

Have swept her from perdition —

Into your swathing arms! I say you shall not!

Me you have set aside, but there an end!

Osio.

Stop! whither do you go?

Bianca.

To call them! call!

And to betray your treachery – and mine!

Rizzio! Porzia! Rizzio!

Osio.

Maledictions!

Will you become a dagger, and not know,

Stiletto that you are, what thing you stab!

Bianca.

The infatuation festering within you!

Till, deaf with the desire of it and dream,

You cannot tell their voice from Deity's.

Rizzio! Porzia! Tasso!

Rizzio (within; startled).

It was Bianca!

How? what? you called? what moves you? – Osio?

Was some one here? what is it? speak!.. Bianca?

What burns you?

Bianca.

You shall hear! It must be told.

Yes, yes!.. (Struggling to say it) …

And with no leavening delay of words.

We … I … You must be gone from here at once;

At once – for there is peril.

Rizzio.

Pah-ho! peril?

Now, Scylla and the Sibyl and Charybdis!

What megrim have you had?

Bianca.

None – for doubting;

Or any, it matters not, if you will go,

And quickly, trusting reason – as you boast to;

For I have heard —

Rizzio.

Have heard what and from whom?

Bianca.

There was one here who said Monsignor Querio

Knows of your excommunicant delight

In books that are forbid —

And … of your heresies!

Porzia (in quick dismay).

The Inquisition!

You mean – he may be sought by it and seized,

Held in the trammels of it for a truth

That …! Do you mean, Bianca, Osio,

That now, at any hour – ?.. Oh, he must go!

And quickly! In, Rizzio, in, for they – !

Rizzio (with laughing relief).

Now, now, do you not see your apprehension!

Is Matteo the Inquisition! Is

He then the prison that has come to seize me?

Fie, fie, Bianca, with your fears that mar

Again the bridal beauty of this hour,

And crowd with quiverings the bliss of it!

No more of them! – (to dancers) Hither! and wind your maze!

Again take up the dance!

Porzia.

No, Rizzio, no!

For now delight would die under our feet,

And we but trample on it! No! Dismiss them

Back now to Capri!..

More than the woman fear within me warns it.

For you have been o'er bold – not vainly, nay,

For truth, I know, must dare – but there may be

More in this than you think.

Rizzio.