Charles Di Tocca: A Tragedy

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!

    (Goes angrily.

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

Bardas: I'll not believe!

Hæmon: But, what: my sister seized?

Bardas: Ah, what! – "He burns with flaming heart!" – have we
No flesh to understand this passion then?
Bound to the wings of wide ambition he
Will choose undowered worth? – To the ordeal
Of mere suspicion's flaming I'd not trust
The fairness of his name; but doubts in me
Are sunk with proofs.

Hæmon: No, no!

Bardas: Unyielding.

Hæmon: Proof?
He could not. No! he dare not!

Bardas: Yet the rogue
Cecco, the duke's half-seneschal, half-spy,
I passed upon the streets o'ermuch in wine,
Leaning upon a tipsier jade and spouting
With drunken mockery,

"'Sweet Helena! Fair Helena!' Pluck me, wench, but the lord Antonio knows sound nuts! And sly! Why hear you now! he gets the duke to seize on the maid! The fox! The rat! Have I not heard him in his chamber these thirty nights puff her name out his window with as many honeyed drawls of passion as – as – as – June has buds? 'Sweet Helena!' – la! 'Fair Helena!' – O! 'Dear Helena! my rose! my queen! my sun and moon and stars! Thy kiss is still at my lips, thy breast beats still on mine! my Helena!' – Um! Oh, 'tmust be a rare damsel. I'll make a sluice between her purse and mine, wench; do you hear?"

Hæmon: Well – well?

Bardas: No more. When I had struck him down,
He swore it was unswerving all and truth.
Hasting to warn I found Helena ta'en
And sought you here.

Hæmon (grasping his brows): Ah!

Bardas: Helena who is
All purity!