Cale Rice - Charles Di Tocca - A Tragedy

Antonio: Remember then you are
Only a little slept from your life's shore
Out on the infinite of love, whose air
Is awe and mystery.

Helena: I go, my lord.
Think of me oft!
Antonio ( taking her in his arms ): My Helena!

'Tis Hæmon!
My father!

Charles: So, no farther? you'll stop here?

Hæmon: Sir, if you grant it. I —

Charles ( twittingly ): Some rendezvous?
Who is she? Ah, young blood and Spring and night!

Hæmon: No rendezvous, my lord.

Charles: Some lay then you
Would muse on?

Hæmon: Yes, a lay.

Charles: And one of love?
The word, you see, founts easy to my lips.
( With confidential archness. ) 'Tis recent in my thought – as you will learn.

Hæmon: How, sir, and when?

Charles: O, when? Be not surprised! —
Well, to the lay!

Hæmon: Cruel! His soldiers waste
The bread of honesty, the hope of age!
Are drunken, bloody, indolent, and lust
To tear all innocence away and robe
Our loveliest in shame! – Yet me, a Greek,
He suddenly befriends!

Antonio ( coming forward ): Hæmon —

Hæmon: Ah, you?

Antonio: There's room between your tone and courtesy.

Hæmon: And shall be while I'm readier to bend
Over a beggar's pain than prince's fingers.

Antonio: And yet you know me better —

Hæmon: Than to believe
You're not Antonio, son of Charles di Tocca?

Antonio: I'd be your friend.

Hæmon: So would he: and he smiles.

Antonio: There are deep reasons for it.

Hæmon: With him too!
Against a miracle, you are his heir!

Antonio: I think it would be well for you to listen.
My confidence once curbed —

Hæmon: May bite and paw?
Let it! for fools are threats, and cowards. Were
You Tamerlane and mine the skull should cap
A bloody pyramid of enemies,
I'd – !

Antonio: Hear me. Will you be so blind?

Hæmon: To your
Fair graces? No, my lord – not so. Your sword
And doublet are sublimely worn! sublimely!
Your curls would tempt an empress' fingers, and —

Antonio: Why is my anger silent?

Hæmon: Let it speak
And not this subtle pride! You would be friend,
A friend to me – a friend! – Did not your father
Into a sick and sunless keep cast mine
Because he was a Greek and still a Greek,
And would not be a slave? His cunning has
Not whispered death about him as a pest?
He – he, my friend? and you? – And I on him
Should lean, and flatter – ?

Antonio: Cease: though he has stains
The times are tyrannous and men like beasts
Find mercy preservation's enemy.
You're heated with suspicion and old wrong,
But take my hand as pledge —

Hæmon ( refusing it ): That you'll be false?

Bardas: I've sought you, Hæmon. Antonio? We are
Well met then: to your doors my want was bent
With a request.

Antonio: Which gladly I shall hear
And if I can will grant.

Bardas: My haste is blunt —
As is my tongue.

Hæmon: Then yield it us at once,
Our mood is so.

Bardas: Hæmon, I love your sister.
Not love: I am idolatrous before
Her foot's least print, and cannot breathe or pray
But where she's sometime been and left a heaven!

Hæmon: Therefore you'll cry it maudlin at the streets?

Bardas: Necessity's not over delicate.
Antonio, sue for me. You have been apt
In all love's skill they say. My oath on it
Your words once sown upon her listening
Would not lie fruitless did they bid her yield
More than her most.

Hæmon: Bardas! Do you – Does such
Unseemliness run in your thought?

Bardas: Peace, Hæmon.
Antonio, speak.

Antonio: You're strange in this request.
Helena, whom I've seen, would little thank
The eyes that told her own where they should love.

Bardas: I saved your life, my lord.

Antonio: And I've besought
Occasion oft for loaning of some chance
Worthily to repay you. If 'tis this,
I am distrest. I cannot plead your suit.

Bardas: You cannot or you will not?

Antonio: I have said.
Ask me for service on your foes, for gold,
Faith or devotion, friendship you're aloof to,
For all that will and honor well may render
With nicety, and I'll be wings and heart,
More – drudge to your desire.

Hæmon: Nobly, my lord!
Bardas, you must atone —

Bardas: Peace, Hæmon.

Hæmon: Peace
Is goad and gall! Why do you burn my cheek
With this indignity?

Bardas: Do you ask why? ( to Antonio.)
A little since one of your father's guard
Gave his command in seal to Helena
Upon the streets, to instantly repair
Unto his halls – which she must henceforth honor .
You knew it not?

Antonio: My father?

Bardas: O, well feigned.
Be sure none will suspect he is too old
For knightly feat like this – and that he has
A son!

Antonio: To Helena! my father! sealed!

Hæmon: Bardas, you bring the truth? – And so, my lord,
You stab me through another – you, my friend ?

Antonio ( to Bardas): Do you mean that – ?

Bardas: Until this hour I held
The race of Charles di Tocca bold, or other
But empty of all lies in deed or speech,
It grows – a little low?

Antonio: Why you are mad!
Are mad! I'm naked of this thing, and hide
No guilt behind the wonder of my face.
For Paradises brimming with all Beauty
I would not lay one fancy's weight of shame
On her you name!

Bardas: A pretty protest – but
A breath too heavenly.

Antonio: Leave sneering there!
You have repaid yourself – cast on me words
Intolerable more than loss of life.
You both shall learn this night's entangling.
But know, between her, Helena, and shame
I burn with flaming heart and fearless hand!

Hæmon: He can be false and wear this mien of truth?