Charles Di Tocca: A Tragedy

Fulvia (to Julian): You told me not of this – no word, my lord!

Cardinal: My silence as my speech is not my own.

Charles: We'll more of it – a measure more.
Read on.

Secretary: "And for the better amity and weal
Of Italy and Christ's most Holy Church,
He is enjoined to wed with Beatrice
Of Florence. If his wilful boldness grants
Obedience, his sins shall melt to rest
Under the calm of full forgiveness. He – "

Charles: A mild, a courteous, O a modest Pope!
I must tear from my happiness a friend
Who fled a father's searing cruelty,
And cast her back in the flames! And I must bind
My crippled years that fare toward the grave
In the cold clasp of an unloving hand!
No! No!
Then, sir, and Cardinal, 'tis not enough!
I pray you swift again to Rome and plead
Most suppliantly that I for penance may
Swear my true son is shame-begot, or lend
My kin to drink clean of its fouling damp
Some pestilent prison! And 'tis impious too
That any still should trust my love. Beseech
His Holiness' command for death upon them!

Cardinal: This is your answer?

Charles (rises): A mite! a mite of it!
The rest is I will wed where I will wed
Though every hill of earth raise up its pope
To bellow at me thunderous damnation!
I will – I will – (Falls back convulsed.)

Fulvia (hastening to him): Charles, ah! Wine for him, wine! (It is brought.)

Antonio: Lord Cardinal, spare yourself more and go.
You shall learn if a change may loose this strain.

(The Cardinal goes with his suite amid timid reverence.)

Charles (struggling): I will – this frenzy – off my throat – ! I – (Recovering.) Ah,
Thou, Fulvia? 'Twas as a fiend swung on me.
And shame! fear oozes out upon my brow,
And I – . (Rises and calms himself.) Forgive, friends, this so sudden wrench
Upon your pleasure. One too quick made saint,
Stands feebly: but at once wilt I atone.
Where is Diogenes – where is he? His
Tangled fantastic wisdom shall divert us.

(Diogenes, who has stood unconscious of all that has passed, is pushed forward.)

Ah, peer of Socrates and perfect Plato,
Leave your unseeing silence now and tell us —

Enter Agabus gazing anxiously and wildly before him

Who's this?

Agabus (hoarsely): Where went he – the Shadow? – whither?
Charles: Who's this broke from his grave upon us?

Agabus (searching still): Where?
I followed him – he sped and there was cold!
Behind him blows a horror!
(Stops in fascinated awe before Helena.)
Ah, on her head!
His touch! his earthless finger! – and she rots
To dust! to dust!

Antonio: Ill monk! are there no men
That you must wring a woman so with fear?

Agabus: Ha, men? Christ save all men but lovers! all! (Crosses himself.)

Charles: Antonio, how speaks he?

Antonio: Sir, most mad
With the pestilence of evil prophecy.
(To guards.) Forth with him!

Charles: Stay.

Antonio: Let him not, for he will
Beguile you to some ravening belief.
Agabus (going up to Charles, staring at him in suppressed excitement): A lover! a lover! and he loves in vain!
Wilt go? There is a cave – (taking his hand), we'll curse her – come!

Charles: Out! out! (Throws him from the dais.)

Agabus: Christ save all men but – (Seeking vacantly.) Ah, the Shadow!
Has no one seen him? none? – the Shadow? none?

    (Goes dazed. Guests whisper, awed.

Charles: He is obsessed – vile utterly!