Classic Poem

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Room in DON TOMMASO'S House. ANNICCA discovered, attired in mourning. Enter DON TOMMASO.

DON TOMMASO.
If he still live, now shall we hear of him.
The news I learn will lure him from his covert,
Where'er it lie, to pardon or avenge.

ANNICCA (eagerly).
What news? What cheer, Tommaso?

DON TOMMASO.
Meagre cheer,
But tidings that break through our slow suspense,
Like the first thunder-clap in sultry air.
Don John sets sail from Sicily, to wed
A Princess chosen by the King. Maria —

ANNICCA.
Talk not of her — I know her not; her name
Will sear thy tongue. Think'st thou, in truth this news
Will draw my father from his hiding-place?
No — teach me not to hope. Within my heart
A sure voice tells me he is dead. Not his
The spirit to drag out a shameful life,
To shrink from honest eyes, to sink his brow
Unto the dust, here where he wore his crown.
Thou knowest him. Have I not cause to mourn
Uncomforted, that he, the first of fathers,
Self-murdered — nay, child-murdered — Oh, Tommaso,
I would fare barefoot to the ends of the earth
To look again upon his living face,
See in his eyes the light of love restored —
Not blasting me with lightnings as before —
To kneel to him, to solace him, to win
For mine own head, yoked in my sister's curse
The blessing he refused me.

DON TOMMASO.
Well, take comfort;
This grace may yet be thine.