The Lamp and the Bell | Page 8

weeping, Grow grey, and shake with palsy over a staff,-- All this, my love, as empty of ideas As even the fondest mother's heart could wish.
OCT. You mock me, sir?
LOR. I am but musing aloud, As is my fashion.--And indeed, my dear, What is the harm in lovers-and-all-that That virtuous maidens may not pass the time With pretty tales about them?--After all, Were it not for the years of looking forward to it And looking back upon it, love would be Only the commonest bird-song in the hedge,-- And men would have more time to think,--and less To think about.
OCT. That may be. But young girls Should not be left alone too much together. They grow too much attached. They grow to feel They cannot breathe apart. It is unhealthy.
LOR. It may be true. But as for me, whom youth Abandoned long ago, I look on youth As something fresh and sweet, like a young green tree, Though the wind bend it double.--'Tis you, 'tis I, 'Tis middle age the fungus settles on.
OCT. Your head is full of images. You have No answers. I shall do as I spoke of doing, And separate them for a little while, Six months, maybe a year. I shall send Bianca Away within a fortnight. That will cure them. I know. I know. Such friendships do not last.
CURTAIN

ACT II
Scene 1--Four months later.
[Scene: A garden, near the palace at Fiori. The young Duke Guido is discovered standing with one foot resting on a garden-bench, looking off, lost in thought. Enter Giovanni.]
GIO. That is a merry face you wear, my Guido! Now that the young King Mario visits the court And walks all morning in the woods with the Princess, Or gives her fencing lessons,--upon my word, You are as gay as a gallows!
GUI. She is never Alone with him. Laura--Carlotta--someone Is always there.
GIO. Ah--ah--but even so, No matter who is there, I tell you, lovers Are always alone!
GUI. Why do you say these things, Giovanni?
GIO. Because I love you, you lean wolf, And love to watch you snuff the air. My friend, There was a time I thought it all ambition With you, a secret itching to be king-- And not so secret, either--an open plot To marry a girl who will be Queen some morning. But now at times I wonder. You have a look As of a man that's nightly gnawed by rats, The very visage of a man in love. Is it not so?
GUI. I do not know, Giovanni. I know I have a passion in my stomach So bitter I can taste it on my tongue. She hates me. And her hatred draws me to her As the moon draws the tide.
GIO. You are like a cat-- There never was a woman yet that feared you And shunned you, but you leapt upon her shoulder! Well, I'll be off. The prettiest girl in Fiori,-- Unless it be Her Highness, waits for me By a fountain. All day long she sells blue plums, And in the evening what she has left of them She gives to me! You should love simply, Guido, As I do. [Exit Giovanni.]
[Guido sits on the bench and drops his head in hand. Enter Francesca.]
FRA. [Softly.] Guido! Guido!
GUI. Who calls me?
FRA. Guido!
GUI. Francesca! Why do you follow me here? You know I do not wish to see you!
FRA. Do not be angry. 'Tis half a week since you have spoken to me, And over a week since you have so much as laid Your hand upon my arm! And do you think, Loving you as I do, I can do without you, Forever, Guido, and make no sign at all? I know you said you did not wish to see me Ever again,--but it was only a quarrel-- And we have quarreled before!
GUI. It was not a quarrel. I am tired of you, Francesca. You are too soft. You weep too much.
FRA. I do not weep the less For having known you.
GUI. So;--it will save you tears, then To know me less.
FRA. Oh, Guido, how your face Is changed,--I cannot think those are the eyes That looked into my eyes a month ago! What's come between us?
GUI. Nothing has come between us. It is the simple snapping of a string Too often played upon.
FRA. Ah!--but I know Who snapped it! It will do you little good To look at her,--she'll never look at you!
GUI. Be silent a moment!--Unless you would be silent Longer!
FRA. Indeed! I shall speak out my mind! You go beyond yourself! There is proportion Even in a nature like my own, that's twisted From too much clinging to a crooked tree! And this is sure: if you no longer love me, You shall no longer strike me!
MARIO. [Off stage.] Beatrice! Wait for me! Wait!
BEA. [Off