Castelvines y Monteses (Cosens)/Act 3/Scene 5
Scene V.—A Farm-house near Verona.
Enter Belardo and Loreto.
Loreto. I tell thee that I saw them all depart,
And they'll be here anon.
Belardo. Good lack, so many gentlefolk, the house
Will scarcely hold their lacqueys.
Loreto. Thou of the spade and sickle put aside
Thy farming books of how to sow, to plough and reap,
While I the news of this brave wedding do relate.
Belardo. For me, my son, more cares than joys
Must I expect; but what wedding's this?
For I but yestermorn did see the funeral's pomp.
Loreto. Out of that sad funeral, sir,
This very wedding is but newly born.
Belardo. How so, when all Verona weeps
That sad event?
Loreto. Our Lord Antonio left alone to grieve
In sadden'd home the death of Lady Julia.
Belardo. True, what then, Loreto?
Loreto. His noble brother, too, doth own broad lands,
And holdeth it much value.
Belardo. Just so, my son.
Loreto. Having a daughter, Dorotea, he would wed
Her to her uncle, so the lands should own
No alien blood, and for the wedding feast
They from Verona come anon.
Belardo. Good; the reason seemeth very good.
God help us then, and may the maid
Ne'er change to love some fair-hair'd youth;
And pray no deluge comes to sink the lands,
When all would fail and need no holy bands.
Loreto. Rather than that, I'd marry her myself.
Loreto. Why not?
Belardo. A fine wife, truly! and for thee, Loreto!
Loreto. Is it not better she should wed with youth,
Than one who numbers summers twenty-nine
Just twice told o'er, good sir?
Belardo. Call Tamar here.
Loreto. Tamar! Tamar!
Tamar. Ye shout as I were deaf.
Loreto. Father but said, Go call Tamar,
And so I call'd.
Tamar. He didn't bid thee shout.
Loreto. Rather than see thee kicking idle heels,
I'd have thee married, Tamar dear.
Tamar. Have me married! Bah!
Loreto. Why not? Art thou a woman only in disguise?
Tamar. Didst thou call, sir?
Belardo. Here, make all clean in every room,
For all world is coming to the farm.
Tamar. What I and the Lady Julia, too, just dead?
Belardo. Her father marries with his brother's child.
Tamar. But why come here?
Belardo. See you not, that while they go seek from Rome
The proper dispensations for the match,
They do not care to stay within Verona's walls.
Tamar. Umph! high blood doth favour all;
No bad intention doth it seem, I wot.
Alone I cannot entertain so many guests.
Belardo. Go, bring the readiest damsels on the farm to help.
Tamar. So, so.
Belardo. Come, then, Loreto, let us walk,
And waste not time in witless talk.
Loreto. If I be witless, am I not thy son?
Belardo. Mayhap I'm even witless as thou art.
Loreto. In truth, a heart so warm and true
So easy moved, there never was before,
Nor seen, nor heard, nor ever writ about.
Tamar. This marriage—all the world gets married now.
All the world goes upside-down, I trow:
The young men to their graves, the old
To joyous wedding-feasts, the damsels sold.
I envy not the Lady Dorotea, for
I'd rather feed a starving hope than
Share so lame a feast, served up
With hairs as grey as winter's dawn.
Enter Anselmo, Roselo, Julia, and Marin, disguised as villagers, with slouched hats, reaping-hooks, &c.
Anselmo. Peace rest upon this house.
Roselo. God safely guard the lady of this house.
Marin. Heaven prosper, too, its bread and wine.
Amen, I wish it was the hour to dine.
Julia. And Heaven grant a sweetheart fair
To that young damsel, if not wedded yet.
Jaundiced envy touch all married ones,
And they who're not, may weep with rage in vain.
Tamar. Heaven bless you all, good folk!
Are you of this village, pray?
Roselo. Ferrara is our native home.
Tamar. Odds, life! take off thy hat and cloak, my child.
Julia. All through the night we've journey'd on
Our cheerless, dull, and weary way. Let me retire,
And anon I'll at your service be.
Tamar. Now, which of ye three the damsel claims?
Marin. She should be mine.
Tamar. You should look wiser, for her choice
Shows crabbed taste when two
Such pretty fellows did remain.
Julia. And which wouldst thou choose,
Hadst thou the choosing now?
Tamar. The taller; for his bearing and his eye
Doth promise love and wit and honesty.
Roselo. Perhaps my companion here might be the wiser choice.
Julia (aside). Although I feel his words to be but jest,
My heart owns pang of jealousy as passing guest.
Tamar. O Heaven pardon me, my child!
Methinks I see my Lady Julia's look, sweet girl.
Come, what seek ye here?
Anselmo. Honest labour and its worth.
Tamar. My father's in the fields, and with
My brother seeks some help to tend
Upon my lord, who comes with friends to-day.
Julia. Comes your lord here to-day?
Tamar. Our lady Julia being dead was buried too;
She was the daughter of my lord;
His brother's hopes now hang
Upon a marriage of their kin;
So, while the Holy Father they do importune
For leave and licence of this troth,
The would-be husband does not care
The lady should in old Verona stay,
Lest she might find a younger love, and haste away.
Roselo (apart to Julia). Hearest thou, sweet wife?
Julia (apart to Roselo). Ah, sad unhappy me!
Anselmo (apart to Julia). Thy father then will wed again,
Thy patrimony lost, and I
Then left alone to pine without my Dorotea,
Whom I have loved since that sweet night
When mask'd we danced till morning's light.
Julia (apart to Anselmo). Great Heaven ordaineth all things
As it will;—
So, beauteous damsel, I in good time come
To aid thee in thy household need;
These good men too their hands can try
Without upon the farm.
Tamar. Then get thee into yonder chamber, child,
While these three fellows may
Be busied out of doors.
Julia. Farewell, companions dear.
Roselo. Adieu, Marcella, till we meet again.
Anselmo. Adieu, adieu!
Marin. A wondrous story! 'tis most wondrous still;
Enter Antonio and Lucio.
Antonio. I fear me they are unprepared
To house of guests so large a troop,
And our coming is so sudden too.
Lucio. Is it not better, sir,
That unadvised we come.
Antonio. Tamar, Tamar!
Tamar. Why, 'tis my lord Antonio, on my life.
Antonio. Knows not your father of our coming?
Tamar. The news of this brave wedding travels quick,
He doth approve, our only fear
'Tis somewhat hurried.
Antonio. 'Tis by prevision that I do forestall
The foot of Time, I'm somewhat aged,
And Dorotea very young, but if delay
Prescribes a single year, our wedding day
Might never dawn.
I should most willingly have advised
You of our coming in such haste,
But as did command
That Dorotea should come hence to-day.
Tamar. Perhaps he was wise, for she who weds
An aged grey-hair'd spouse, most surely looks
On brisk and black-hair'd youths as better cooks.
Antonio. Am I so very old, good Tamar, then?
Tamar. No, no, not very old; but if you scan
Your face before a mirror, then you can
Find some fair show of frosted hairs.
Antonio. Go, Tamar, go, and all things have prepared.
Tamar (apart.) Do but to an old fool speak of age,
Antonio. Go, Lucio, see if all our friends be housed.Lucio. I fly with winged heels, my lord.
Antonio. Good Tamar, well I know in frosty age
This is excess, and still my hope's for one
Who shall succeed, and so inherit all.
This is no new creed I preach, and for the fault
I'll find a thousand pleas of exculpation;
Slowly creeps the shade of blacken'd night,
From lowly valley to the mountain's peak,
Within his chariot dark.
(Some lines wanting here.)
No reason this why Dorotea's coach
Should be benighted; a lover now would rave
In ecstasy; but grey hairs are more grave.
(Some lines wanting here.)
Preserve, me heaven, what noise is that?
Sure 'tis the thunder's echo that I hear!
It seems as if the wheels of sound
Had snapp'd their axles, and in one dread crash
Tumbled in atoms to the earth.
The strength of blood is not so sound
In creeping age as 'tis in lusty youth;
My hair doth stand on end in truth.
Julia (unseen above). Father, father!
Antonio. Great heavens, I know that voice, 'tis—
Antonio. 'Tis Julia's voice, or fear creates the sound.
Julia. Listen, ungrateful father mine,
If thou hast ears to hear; from out
Beyond the clouds of death I speak.
Antonio. It is indeed my Julia's voice!
Julia. Hast thou forgotten all, that thou canst doubt
Thy daughter's voice?
Antonio. Where art thou, child, and what thy wish?
Julia. From the bright world of seraphims I come
To hold discourse with thee.
Antonio. Sweet child, thy words I hear, but seeming night
Doth cheat me of thy face the sight.
Julia. Darest thou to look upon the form I bear?
Antonio. No, I should die; speak, say on.
Julia. 'Twas thee alone who caused my death.
Antonio. I caused thy death, oh heavens! how!
Julia. Didst not seek to wed me 'gainst my will?
Antonio. I did advise as seemed best.
Julia. Count Paris did deserve a noble bride,
But Love permits not wives to wed.
Antonio. The blame indeed was thine; such tardy truth
As that thou now dost speak
Should have been then discoursed.
Oh Julia! why not have prattled:—
Father mine, I am a weak and wayward girl,
Have set thy will at naught,
Love's fetters outweigh gold, both scales and all.
Thou shouldst have pardon sought,
I with thy falling rain of tears soon bought.
Thy choice would be of no ignoble blood, I trow,
For thou the Phœnix of all virtue art, I know.
Julia. Had my choice been of more ignoble blood,
I had thy blessing and forgiveness sought;
But fortune gave me such a noble love,
I dared not. To him Aurelio wedded me,
Breathing all holy blessings of the church;
For two short months I knew this bliss.
Antonio. Were two months then so short,
Thou couldst not seek thy father's heart?
Julia. Oh, father mine! how could I dare?
Bewildered joy imagined dangers dark,
I saw myself a living wedded wife,
And thou wast bent upon another choice.
I sought still death, and now again
I speak, unseen unto thine earthly eye;
But father, thou wilt wedded be anon,
Accept a daughter's prayers, I'd have
Thee wed, forgetting me and all my faults;
But should my memory fragrance hold,
Forgive my husband, and in peace remain
For my poor sake; oh! seek not to destroy
The heart I love, or at each coming night
I'll hover o'er thy couch with torment, till the light
Compels me to be gone.
Antonio. His name?
Julia. Alas! 'tis he who did Otavio slay,
The son of one whose deadly hate thou know'st,
Roselo Montes he is call'd. Farewell!
Antonio.She's gone, Julia, Julia, daughter, child,
Darling of my heart! Roselo Montes,
Roselo, the name offends me so,
And yet I love the child so much, e'en he
Shall as thy husband honour'd be,
I'll hold him as my son for evermore.
Enter Teobaldo, Dorotea, Count Paris, Belardo, soldiers with halberds, Anselmo, Roselo and Marin, as prisoners.
Teobaldo. Onward, accursed ones!
Antonio. What means this tumult, Teobaldo!
Teobaldo.Hail it as good fortune, and rejoice.
For heaven at last though slow
Some favour for revenge doth show.
Antonio. What people then are these?
Teobaldo. Know ye them not, spite all disguise,
This is Roselo Montes!
Antonio. Roselo here?
Teobaldo. Yes, indeed Roselo, and 'spite this disguise
Did heaven decree he should be known
By many of our people here.
I could have stabb'd him to the heart,
But give him o'er to thee;
Belardo, too, having no eyes to see,
Such servants of our house no more
Should hold the charge of this estate.
Belardo. Had I suspected this accursed foe,
No other hand had made his life blood flow.
Teobaldo. Consider we anon what death he dies;
Shall he be tied both hand and foot
To yonder tree, and each an arrow shoot?
Or will you slay him with thy sword or gun?
Speak, Antonio, and let the deed be done!
Antonio. Listen, Paris, Teobaldo, listen all.
Teobaldo. What death?
Antonio. He must not die; Roselo Montes is to live;
Julia in spirit now did speak
From just above this roof;
Her voice in sweetest heavenly accents sigh'd,—
I am Roselo's wife, for him and truth I died.
Antonio. For why?
Fearing that force should press her choice,
And bind a hated marriage with the Count,
She sought from poison's subtle art
A quick and sudden death, and will
Torment my nightly slumbers still
With maddening dreams of hate and woe,
If I shall live Roselo Montes' deadly foe.
Teobaldo.Fancy, fear, or moonlight doth produce
Such sad disorder'd fancies of the brain.
Antonio. Brother, if still thou doubtest, even now
Mayhap she'll come and speak—I'll call.
Teobaldo. No, no, Antonio, let her stay,
I'll believe without a doubt each word you say.
Antonio. Roselo Montes was my son, is yours;
Then give him that rich prize, thy daughter here,
I care not now to woo fresh woes.
Teobaldo. My daughter, Dorotea?
Antonio. The same, and so this day shall peace
Be here confirm'd between our rival kins.
Count. So run events, that heaven's will
Declares how peace we may fulfil.
Teobaldo, now accept this noble youth
As Dorotea's husband, he's a man of truth.
Teobaldo. If peace by heaven thus shall be ordain'd,
Roselo take her as thy wife.
Julia. No, not so; wouldst thou, traitor,
Wed two wives?
Julia. Let none depart.
Count. Julia, fair lady.
Julia. Father, behold thy erring child;
I live to love thee as of yore.
Teobaldo. What would you, Julia?
Count. Tell me, sweet wife!
Julia. Thy wife, Sir Count! I am Roselo's,
Count. I care not then to know thee.
Julia. Thou seest I am alive.
Antonio. Art thou alive in body or in spirit.
What wouldest thou? care you
That we consign thee to the tomb again?
Julia. 'Tis true I living am, and in the flesh,
That simulated death was caused
By simples, subtle and most cunning,
Roselo Montes brought me here. Speak,
Dear husband of my heart.
Roselo. Once rescued from the grave, she's twice
My wedded wife.
Count. And then twice over should she wedded be.
Antonio. My hand, Roselo; and to thee, dear child,
Julia. Wait, dear father, first my cousin there
Shall have the husband of her choice.
Teobaldo. And who is he, I pray?
Anselmo. And that is me; I am prepared
With list of all my virtues, gold and gems
Antonio.Enough, let's join their hands.
Marin. And I, with all my virtues, where
Shall I find one my cares to share.
The fright I had upon that awful day,
When I dragg'd forth from death yon mortal clay.
Julia. Celia is thine; a thousand ducats too.
Roselo. Good senators, here, I pray 'tis understood,
The Castelvines ends in happiest mood.