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
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