Cale Rice - Porzia

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!