Classic Poem

T EODORO . Quick, Tristan! Run!
T RISTAN . Who's there?
T EODORO . Discovered!
T RISTAN . Down quickly!

D IANA . Stay, sir, stay! Such effrontery before my door? Turn, stop, stay! Up, my people! Not a man astir in the house? I have seen a solid shade, no wisp of dreams. Hello! Does the Palace sleep?
F ABIO . My lady calls — —
D IANA . You are as cool by my troth as I hot by my call. Run, fool, thou quintessence of folly, and bring me the scoundrel's name who this moment passed my door.
F ABIO . I see no scoundrel, lady.
D IANA . Reply by speed. Fly quickly!
F ABIO . I vanish.
D IANA . His name on your life!
F ABIO . In this wicked world? ... Ah me!

O TTAVIO . Though I heard your voice I could not believe that at this hour Your Excellency called so loudly.
D IANA . O thou Flicker of the Faltering Flare, at what hour crept you to sleep? You rouse from a soft bed right smartly. There are men in my house making the dark hours hideous even at the very portal of my chamber! Can such insolence be, Ottavio? And when I call, like a faithless squire you nod in my extremity.
O TTAVIO . Though I heard your voice I could not believe that at this hour Your Excellency called so loudly.
D IANA . No, I did not call. Back to bed! To dream! Repose!
O TTAVIO . Signora

F ABIO . He flew.
D IANA . Flew?
F ABIO . Like a hawk.
D IANA . Whose hood was fringed with gold!
F ABIO . I looked down the stair — —
D IANA . Yes, you looked while he flew! Must I call my women?
F ABIO . Signora, struck by his hat, the light went out. A shadow crossed the court and at the portal drew, and away!
D IANA . Oh my gallant Fabio!
F ABIO . It happened just as I have told you.
D IANA . 'Fore the world you should have thrust him through on the spot where he stood!
O TTAVIO . Most imprudent, lady. If he had defended himself your good name would have been haled before the people.
D IANA . Ottavio, flight is the coward's remedy.
O TTAVIO . Countess, a thousand gentlemen seek your hand in Naples, among whom, by search and due diligence, we may encounter the stranger who has conducted this retreat which Fabio has so prudently observed from the stair.
D IANA . He has suborned my servants. Ottavio, they have been corrupted in my house. The hat was plumed ... Confess! Mayhap a stray feather remains upon the stair. Run! Look!
F ABIO . For a feather?
D IANA . White plumes waved as he crossed the hall.
F ABIO . A light, ho!

D IANA . I will solve this mystery if it undoes Naples.
O TTAVIO . Signora, come what may disdain incites the lover. Pride will not brook denial, but accepts the challenge, rather, spurred on to rivalry and rash endeavor. These are stratagems of love.
D IANA . Vainglory. The offense is mortal in my sight.
O TTAVIO . Pardon, Signora. On every side you are inaccessible as fair. Unhappy the gallant who would woo the title of Belflor!

F ABIO . I came upon this hat, and of hats it is the very worst that ever was out o' nights.
D IANA . This?
F ABIO . It's a hat, save the mark.
D IANA . Give it to me.
O TTAVIO . All greasy and discolored?
F ABIO . Exactly.
D IANA . You found this?
F ABIO . A work of art.
O TTAVIO . These were plumes, belike.
F ABIO . He's a thief, that's plain.
O TTAVIO . A robber and thereto dangerous.
D IANA . Peace! — while I compose myself. Peace! Pray, no more.
F ABIO . He left his hat.
D IANA . And all the plumes I saw, waving in the air, resolve their excess into this?
F ABIO . He cast it at the light and no doubt they burned, consumed together. Mounting to the sun Icarus singed his plumes, and fell a victim in the white plumes of the sea. The rascal had at the lamp in place of the sun, he flung a hat being no Icarus, and the plumes fell short of the water, whereupon I picked up the remains on the grand staircase.
D IANA . Fabio, I am in no jesting humor. What's to be done?
O TTAVIO . Institute an inquiry, Signora.
D IANA . Inquiry, Ottavio?
O TTAVIO . Investigating in the morning thoroughly. The brain cools with sleep.
D IANA . I shall not sleep till I have probed this mystery, or my name is not Diana! Summon my women before me.
O TTAVIO . Signora, must we abuse the lateness of the night?
D IANA . Ottavio, sleep flees my eyes, affronted as I am, my house violated in the dark — —
O TTAVIO . Inquire discreetly and with composure that the quest may cunningly entrap the secret.
D IANA . Ottavio, you are overmuch discreet. To sleep upon a mystery methinks is to put the mystery to sleep.
F ABIO . I brought the more seemly ones, for the others are too dull to have guilty knowledge, besides which, to speak truth, they were fast asleep. These, for all I know, might have outsat the night.
A NARDA . The wind rises and storm-clouds gather.
F ABIO . Countess, your ladies await your will.
D IANA . Truly? Gentlemen, retire.
F ABIO . Heigh ho!
O TTAVIO . The Countess is sorely vexed.
F ABIO . Chase a feather!

D IANA . Dorotea, my faithful Dorotea, come to me.
You have served me long and well.
D OROTEA . Aye, my lady.

D IANA . Nay, draw near. Dorotea, as you recall, what gentlemen frequent this street?
D OROTEA . Signora, at the moment I recall only the Marquis Riccardo and, upon occasion, the County Paris.
D IANA . Recall precisely, Dorotea, speedily, or forever be barred from favor.
D OROTEA . I have no secrets from my lady.
D IANA . With whom, pray, do these gentlemen speak, Dorotea?
D OROTEA . Signora, I could not answer though you burned me in a thousand flames, for I have seen them speak with no one, save only with yourself.
D IANA . But surely they have bestowed tokens, gifts even it may be? Or has some page been entertained in the house?
D OROTEA . None that I recall, Signora.
D IANA . On behalf of the master? Speak, Dorotea.
Marcella . An inquisition.
A NARDA . She examines her.
D IANA . Retire. — Anarda!
A NARDA . Countess?
D IANA . A man passed my door.
A NARDA . A man passed your door, Signora?
D IANA . A word in your ear. Who admitted him at my portal? Who had intelligence with the street? I know your ways.
A NARDA . Signora, we are not so careless of your honor. We protect and guard you, Signora, we watch over you night and day.
D IANA . If that be true, does one of my women flaunt a lover in the house?
A NARDA . Signora, your ladies are chaste as fair. Only Marcella has pledged her heart and that so shyly that the man remains a mystery even to us, for all his love and service.
D IANA . Anarda, deception is not confession. You have disclosed the fault, reveal the guilty.
A NARDA . Pardon, lady. The secret is another's, though the pain of keeping it be mine. Marcella deserves no blame — as yet the fruit of love is hope.
D IANA . Shall folly rule the age? When the mistress is betrothed light loves inhabit the house. Heaven attest my chastity before the Count who is my Lord and Master!
A NARDA . No blemish, lady, appears, nor shall. The man forced no door nor entered the house, nor can he ever be detected, coming to see her.
D IANA . Then he is one of my train? Oh, surpassing insolence!
A NARDA . Love, Signora.
D IANA . Love has a name.
A NARDA . Teodoro.
D IANA . My secretary?
A NARDA . They have met often, though this be idle to say.
D IANA . Anarda, you have said too much.
A NARDA . Lady, as you will.
D IANA . Retire.
At least reproach is removed, seeing that the offense offers not at my door.
Oh, Marcella!
Marcella . Signora?
D IANA . Approach, Marcella.
Marcella . Signora, humbly, in all love.
And fear.
D IANA . You have enjoyed, Marcella, my confidence and trust.
Marcella . Believe no slanders of me, lady, reflecting on my loyalty.
D IANA . Shall slander point at you?
Marcella . How have I offended?
D IANA . Is it no offense to introduce a man into the house in the dark, who ventures even to this chamber, pursuing you by stealth?
Marcella . The man is Teodoro, Countess, admitted openly by day.
D IANA . Happy girl to be sought at all hours and all seasons, yes, upon all occasions, for love thrives upon occasion!
Marcella . Mounting as to heaven! Countess, his voice is soft and soothing, and his soul lies on his lips, trembling, transported as it lies.
D IANA . But what a singular location! What does his soul say as it lies?
Marcella . I don't remember.
D IANA . Lip to lip?
Marcella . He told me once that love had drowned in my eyes. Again he said: " I burn in your eyes. Last night I could not sleep for my thoughts were roaming fondly over all your great store of beauty. " Another time he asked me to lend him one of my hairs to do up his wayward thoughts and still their roving. But I would not.
D IANA . No, you refused and remained virtuous by a hair.
Marcella . The purpose of Teodoro's love is holy marriage. He is honorable and brave.
D IANA . Yes, love's livery is marriage if it be brave. I will promote his suit, Marcella. You have done well. Be assured of favor.
Marcella . A thousand thanks, Signora! Oh, cap our joy! Here in the presence of my mistress I bare my heart, for there is no man living so wise, so prudent and so learned, nay so truly loving, so complete through all the range of this fair city.
D IANA . As to his intelligence, that I have sampled myself, because of the capacity in which he serves.
Marcella . Reading, repeating the words of others is a frigid thing compared with the livid torrent that tumbles from his lips, so dearly and so sweetly moved, shaping fond phrases of love.
D IANA . Marcella, you should marry, Marcella, you must marry — and right swiftly! Love is a sudden, a devouring flame, whose fierce heat consumes both life and honor. Better you remain apart, meanwhile, expectant, coy ...
Must I abet this, I?
Be discreet. Seek not the advantage of occasion until the fateful day. Let prudence rule with modesty. Avoid his presence always, nor in word nor deed suffer aught that may offend my dignity. Teodoro is gentle, while you, Marcella, sharing my blood, surpass in virtue the other ladies of my train.
Marcella . I am all yours, Countess, prostrate.
D IANA . Nay, rise! Leave me.
Marcella . A thousand times I kiss your hand.
D IANA . Enough! Leave me, leave me ...
A NARDA . She hangs her head.
Marcella . Ah me!
D OROTEA . Dismissed?
Marcella . Crowned with happiness! My cup is full.

D IANA . Manly of feature and as handsome fair,
Knowing betimes, in Teodoro grace —
Alas poor suitor to high pride of race! —
Is love's sole title, frail beyond compare.
But love is love and love is everywhere
Though birth and honor ride in proudest place,
Treasures unmatched — these in my mind keep pace;
Unworthy thoughts shall find no shelter there.
Yet must I live consumed with jealousy,
For jealousy is born of lavish giving
And I have given away the heart of me.
Be this my prayer, O love the all-forgiving —
Lift Teodoro to nobility
Or thrust me down to him, my soul of living!

T EODORO . I could not sleep.
T RISTAN . We are lost if discovered. Sleep? Say you sent her to bed and the maid refused to go.
T EODORO . Who turns his back on love?
T RISTAN . Yes, but to return again and again!
T EODORO . As the masters do.
T RISTAN . If you were a master you would sense the approach of danger.
T EODORO . Did she know us?
T RISTAN . Yes and no. She didn't know us, but, oh, she suspects that she knows!
T EODORO . It was a miracle that I missed Fabio as he followed down the stairs.
T RISTAN . When I threw my hat at the lamp it was a hit!
T EODORO . He stopped short, blinded. If he had taken another step I should have run him through.
T RISTAN . I winked at the lamp not to know us, at which it blinked brighter, whereupon I let go with the hat. Well, I can't complain.
T EODORO . Tristan, I die this very day.
T RISTAN . Pshaw! Lovers talk, they don't die.
T EODORO . How escape, Tristan? Snares lie thick around us.
T RISTAN . Forget Marcella, for the Countess, should she be aroused, will delve to the bottom of this, and toss us both out of the palace instanter.
T EODORO . Must I give her up, must I forget?
T RISTAN . Master, pray you ask me the anatomy of love.
T EODORO . No rhyme without reason, man!
T RISTAN . Art helps the good, so acquire a little and follow the proper way. First, you make a resolution to forget, and push out of your mind positively the idea that you can't help loving her, and that forever, for if it ever gets into your head that you can begin all over again, you'll never forget, for hope, they say, gives fools short rope. Why shouldn't a man forget a woman? He swears he'll be true and see what life brings along! Be resolved, call on reason, and these flurries of fancy put to sleep. Take the cord from the clock and the wheels no longer go round. Well, a man must proceed with will and accord, or no hope can be found.
T EODORO . You have small faith in memory, which prods in a thousand places, awakening desire for the good that we may enjoy.
T RISTAN . Desire pricks us daily, as the Spanish poet declares, or wrote, wherefore we must contrive to circumvent desire.
T EODORO . How, how?
T RISTAN . Thinking up faults instead of graces, for the discreet, to forget, put faults in their places. Never picture love upon a balcony, perfectly proportioned and shod, for that is parade. A philosopher discovered once that beauty was what we owed the tailor. Think of a woman as a sinner condemned to torment, yes, and drape no glories about her. Defects are the best physic as has been proved time and again, just as bad food cures the appetite. Signor, recall her defects, and if your memory proves good enough love is done.
T EODORO . A country doctor brings no cure. Apply the prescription to yourself. You're a physician by guesswork, Tristan, who deals in ignorance, for women are pure, serenely crystalline, transparent like shimmering glass.
T RISTAN . Glass? Yes, and well and often, too, they break. But since you can think up no defects I'll do it for you, trusting only to spur on your forgetting. In God's name I loved a saddle-bags of old lies long past fifty, which is ten times five, who, besides two thousand things the matter with her, had a belly so big, on top of other defects, that it could stow a desk, yielding nothing to the Trojan horse which contained a hundred Greeks alive. A walnut-tree grew in a village I heard of and made a house for an alderman, his wife and all their children, where all had plenty of room, or so they said, and in like wise she held in her inside, or could have, a weaver and his staff together. Wishing to forget her for the benefit of my health, I saw what a sorry mistake I was making, thinking only of lilies and jasmines and her, of silver, white ivory and pure snow, and something, too, of that curtain devised for our salvation, the blessed skirt, all of which worked the wrong way. Then I took a firm resolve, and bethought me what she truly looked like, which was several hampers of fat squashes, a heap of decrepit rags, sacks of mail bulging over, and filthy stuffing of hoary mattresses, so that love and longing turned to loathing and from that receptacle was I delivered for ever and ever, amen! And never again! It was so big that the very wrinkles engulfed the handle with the hand.
T EODORO . Marcella has no defects, only graces, nor shall I forget her nor ever try.
T RISTAN . Invite your own undoing to the bitter end. Very well. Suffer! Die!
T EODORO . She walks in beauty. I expire!
T RISTAN . The Countess will promote the expiration. Hello! — And do it now.
D IANA . Call Teodoro.
T EODORO . Discovered!
D IANA . Ah, Teodoro —
T EODORO . Lady, I attend.
T RISTAN . There will be departures from the palace, as say three, and no mistake. Right swiftly.
D IANA . A dear friend, not wholly certain of her pen, requests some lines of me, which I submit to you. Friendship may not stay, deaf to the importunings of love. Teodoro, if love has sought your heart, pray take them and read.
T EODORO . Beside yours my thoughts were poor, Signora, though vaulting my presumption. Send the missive to the lady unread.
D IANA . No, read my lines.
T EODORO . I venture beyond my depth into the mysteries of love.
D IANA . But Teodoro, you have loved?
T EODORO . Never, knowing my defects. I observe far off.
D IANA . Muffled, perhaps, in the dark?
T EODORO . I, Signora? How?
D IANA . Doubtless you adventure from time to time, shyly, as my majordomo tells me, in the dark?
T EODORO . Fabio and I play foolish pranks together, Countess. We laugh and jest o' nights.
D IANA . Nay, read. The lines are honest.
T EODORO . Some enemy has slandered me.
D IANA . Who but a jealous one? Read.
T EODORO . These are idle tales.

Love at the sight of love is envy's slave,
For the first fruit of love is jealousy,
And love asserts its fateful empery
By opposites, as flowers on winter's grave.
My love was born of jealousy and gave
Fresh scope to care that beauty should not be
Admired in its perfection perfectly,
But yield to meaner charms that mean men crave.
There is no courage now within my heart,
No love but jealousy, though well I know
Love mothers love. Now loving be my part!
And yet I dare not love nor bid him go,
The end I would attain yet fear to start.
Read me who dares. Who dares, I read also.

D IANA . Judgment, secretary.
T EODORO . If this be addressed to a man it could not well be more direct, though I fail to understand how love can be born of jealousy when, as the world knows, it is jealousy's sire.
D IANA . The lady, meseems, would possess her lover, yet as he is attracted elsewhere, jealousy intervenes and tempers desire. How think you? Write.
T EODORO . It might be. Yet, Signora, mark you jealousy was the child and love the parent, as effects follow causes but never the cause the effect.
D IANA . Teodoro, the lady is no philosopher, for she tells me that she never felt inclination toward the gentleman till she learned that he was in love, when of a sudden a thousand mad desires came on her, stripping her heart bare of that virgin honor in which till then she had been wont to live.
T EODORO . You have written charmingly and well. I should fall far short of this great merit.
D IANA . Modesty betrays you. Nay! —
T EODORO . I should not dare.
D IANA . But you must. Write.
T EODORO . Your Excellency will expose my want of skill.
D IANA . Pass in. I shall await you here.
T EODORO . By your leave.
D IANA . Out of my sight, Tristan! You offend me.
T RISTAN . I depart, although apologizing for these old breeches because my master, the secretary, earns little in these days. Seeing that I serve him as a mirror, as a lantern and a shield, he does ill not to fit out his servant well. Somebody called a lackey a step-ladder, because by him a suitor climbs to the master's ear, even if he rides a horse, than which an ass can say no more.
D IANA . Tristan, enough! No, now I reflect, a word with you. What manner of man is your master? Is he given to play, a devotee of chance?
T RISTAN . Play? My master? Would to God he might take it up! A gamester, here and there, has money. At one time kings learned a profession so they could support themselves in case they lost their crowns. Every boy, I say, is a potential better, and if he isn't God help him! It requires no brains to bet. Painters empty their crowns producing pictures that any fool pronounces not worth twelve of them, but let a gamester cry " I win! " and it pays him a hundred to one.
D IANA . So your master lacks zest for the sport?
T RISTAN . He likes to win just the same, be that as it may.
D IANA . The ladies agree that he is a great lover.
T RISTAN . A great lover? Oh, oh! No, no! He froze once and since then has never quite thawed out.
D IANA . A man of his parts, gallant, young, discreet, surely entertains affections that are honest.
T RISTAN . Bed and board are his chief affections. A secretary has no leisure for ladies.
D IANA . How is he o' nights?
T RISTAN . Indifferent, though I don't follow him, being lame, having sat down unpleasantly — confidentially — recently
D IANA . No, Tristan?
T RISTAN . I remind myself of the husband with the scab on his face, caused by a blow — he was walking on air.
D IANA . He should have put the best foot first.
T RISTAN . I did, and rolled down to the bottom, counting the steps every one, tum, tum, tum!
D IANA . Was that when you aimed your hat at the lamp, Tristan?
T RISTAN . Glory be, a hit! Holy Virgin, she has me!
D IANA . The light sputtered, too, and went out.
T RISTAN . I can't remember — Oh, yes! The light? A flock of bats entered the house. I doffed my hat, and one paused in front of the light, so I hit the lamp instead, and, plop, my two feet went out from under me and down the stairs I rode, and I can tell you when I hit the bottom!
D IANA . A strange tale, though a book I read once recommended blood-letting as an ideal hair remover, that is for bats. We shall do some presently, with your cooperation, which I shall appreciate if you care to volunteer — for a brother bat?
T RISTAN . God help me, she means to bleed me! Before I'm done she'll ship me to the galleys for assault and battery.
D IANA . Still I persevere.
F ABIO . The Marquis Riccardo.
D IANA . Prepare chairs.

R ICCARDO . Spurred on by love, Diana, toward the goal of fair acceptance, I admire and worship, avid of the largess of a promise. Since beauty connotes virtue, a glance discloses you as wholly fair, exceeding in loveliness, Countess, joyous, proud and gay, which to ignore were folly, by none to be excused. Eager and suppliant, sovereign Diana, clearly fair, I would learn what fate is mine in syllables of breathing beauty.
D IANA . Bred in Italy, Your Excellency transmutes dull smiles to sunlight, blending taste with art. If you would know your fate question not, for my eyes are too weak, admiring, to measure or appraise.
R ICCARDO . Love captivates desire, both confessing speedy marriage as a common aim. As my suit finds favor with your kin, vouchsafe consent, to lift me blithely from despair. A lord of power and rule whose sway equals even his proud birth, were I master from the burning south to the regions of the trappings of the dawn, did I command gold which is so good to man, or the frozen tears of heaven, descending hail, or mines of oriental gems whose gleam has ploughed a furrow through the heaving hillocks of the sea, I would lay them at your feet, and delve beyond the confines of the light, my lady, leaving the sun to day, ever in your service, and, finally, upon the salty rolling plain stride forth in wooden boots, my boats, voyaging in them to the remotest austral strand where dauntless man has struck his power.
D IANA . Marquis, love knows no sweeter phrases, disposing the heart to favor, till it yields, ah me! ... But then I bethink me of Count Federigo.
R ICCARDO . The Count is noble, not unworthy in lineage or address. Judge my proffer justly, averting the eye from glitter and false show.
T EODORO . The lines are ready, Countess.
R ICCARDO . Excellency, alas, I bar the path of duty?
D IANA . A note to Rome, a trifle that I must despatch, demands my labor.
R ICCARDO . Who beguiles must not impede. I depart. Addio!
D IANA . But you remove my heart.
R ICCARDO . In trust. Borrowers return rare treasures.
How fare we, Celio? What says love to-day?
C ELIO . Master, love speaks love's language.
D IANA . Have you finished?
T EODORO . Here are the words, writ haltingly, as by force or on compulsion.
D IANA . Deliver the paper!
T EODORO . Read.
D IANA . These lines:
Love at the sight of love is envy's slave,
Unless of its own right it comes to be,
For love is love before it learns to see,
And love bears only fruit whose seed it gave.
When love turns wayward and the lips we crave
Fix on another, love speaks openly,
The blood mounts swiftly to the cheek and we
Strike fiercely out, to punish or to save.
The end is here. For more shall I offend
Coming from less, if in my poor heart's core
Reluctant, I turn me from a loving friend.
I answer only what was asked before.
What I deserve not I nor mark nor mend;
I cannot say that I deserve much more.

Clever, too, and well expressed.
T EODORO . It was not shaped for laughter.
D IANA . God of my heart, have mercy!
T EODORO . You make no reply.
D IANA . I weigh both, Teodoro, and award the palm to yours.
T EODORO . Ah, the servant is undone who outdoes the master! A king mistrusted a paper he had written and required his favorite to present another. When it was read it outdid the king's, as the king himself declared, whereupon the favorite fled for his life. On being reproached by his sons, he replied: " Why the King has discovered that I know more than he does! " And a like peril besets this letter.
D IANA . Teodoro, though I judge yours the more excellent, it is for the purpose of my friend's conceit, without warranty that your fancy surpasses mine. True, I am a woman and subject to error — it may be, too, partial at best. The inferior, you say, offends the superior, but in love this is otherwise, for surely the inferior cannot love too much, but rather offends by disdain. Do you follow me?
T EODORO . So indeed it would seem, but Phaeton and Icarus both fell, one with golden steeds down a precipice and the other with waxen wings, which melted in the sun.
D IANA . The sun's is no small heat. Loving a noble lady, dare and have faith. Though love be eternal women are not flint. Give me the paper that I may examine it in further study.
T EODORO . It is most imperfect, lady.
D IANA . Winged words to me!
T EODORO . You honor me unduly. Here is yours.
D IANA . Keep it, or it may be, rather, tear it up.
T EODORO . Tear it up?
D IANA . Ah me! What are words when the heart is lost?

T EODORO . She goes. A sudden impulse reveals her love. Where am I? Wise and noble, she never spoke like this before. " What are words when the heart is lost? " But here are words, here throbs the woman! The Countess is artful, too, and thus to speak humbles her high spirit. Princes of Naples court her, whose meanest slave I could not hope to be. My uncertainty is great. Perceiving I serve Marcella, she contrives this jest. Yet if jesting only why does she blush? Why quiver before my quavering heart? What rose, weeping at dawn, its leaves all tear-bedewed, but unfolds its petals, purple petals, for all its weeping laughing in the sun, even as she mocks me now, her pallid beauty enamelled with a crimson stain? What I hear and what I see strike scant root in truth, and may be by folly planted. My thoughts aspire in pride to beauty, which God grant I may achieve! O wise, O proud Diana! Sovereign Diana, beauty's queen!
Marcella . Teodoro, joy! Our love is blest!
T EODORO . What, sweet Marcella? This is a precious moment. Gladly I face death.
Marcella . Ten thousand lives are too few to purchase this, for I have awaited the hour like a caged bird, and when dawn tapped Apollo and bade him rise to light the East with gold, I knew my own Apollo would make haste to greet me. Through the long and horrid night the Countess stormed until she learned our secret, betrayed by envy to destroy our troth, for there are no friends in service. All is seeming there. Like the moon Diana peers at lovers, rising only to deny, but when she saw our love was honest and your purpose marriage, she smiled, sharing our happiness. We shall be united, Teodoro, by her command. I trembled as I praised you, fancied myself banished, confined, cut off, but her warm and noble nature, her generous heart pays instant tribute to deserving. Happy a thousand times are we that serve the just and fair!
T EODORO . You say we shall be married and with her consent? By her command?
Marcella . Wed as she promises.
T EODORO . Am I mistaken then? The Countess toys with me — Proudly she swoops upon her prey, crushing vain ambition!
Marcella . Rejoice, dear fount of love!
T EODORO . Marcella, she turned away, displeased, reproving me for my exploit by night, muffled, before her door.
Marcella . Teodoro, ask no questions. Soon we shall be one, only, love, we must be more secret than before. Give no sign. It is her whim to aid our passion.
T EODORO . By abstention? Ah, the labyrinth of love!
Marcella . Shall we be happy?
T EODORO . Married?
Marcella . How happy? Oh, how happy? Is it heaven?
T EODORO . Be this the measure, for love's emblem is an embrace, an ecstasy of intertwining arms!

D IANA . Frank and most expressive! No occasion to blush or to separate. No, no.
T EODORO . Signora, I left this room last night, as I was explaining to Marcella, distressed exceedingly lest Your Excellency might judge my purpose to have been an offense against this house. But you have consented that we marry, and I press her to my breast a thousand times, rejoicing that in decisive battles the victor always must be truth.
D IANA . Teodoro, the truth is not in you, nor regard for her you serve. My generosity breeds only presumption. Who flaunts love courts disaster. Marcella shall be confined to her chamber until in due course I execute my purpose, nor shall lewd displays demoralize my women, seducing them into lusty marriages. — Dorotea, ho! Come quickly, Dorotea!

D OROTEA . My lady called?
D IANA . Turn this key upon Marcella who will remain in my apartment until further command — and sew!
D OROTEA . What have you done?
Marcella . An unhappy star blots true love out. Ah, Teodoro!
D OROTEA . I am your friend. Jealousy closes no doors whose master-key is love.

D IANA . The dream shifts strangely.
T EODORO . By your leave, I go. Pray you, the offense was not great, nor so dark as painted. Envy speaks with scorpions' tongues. If Ovid had served he would not have settled it in the country nor sent it up a mountain, but kept it at home in the palaces of the great where it rules with unchallenged sway.
D IANA . You would persuade me almost that you never loved Marcella.
T EODORO . Marcella is no goddess, lady.
D IANA . Yet heroes worship her?
T EODORO . Lip-service only. We are men. Ah, were I a votary of love!
D IANA . But you make advances, your lips seek out the willing ear.
T EODORO . Words, lady. I have the gift.
D IANA . Of words? What words, what words, Teodoro?
What words have you whispered in her ear?
T EODORO . Words of love and longing, lady, a thousand fancies veiling but a single aim, and that but thinly.
D IANA . What words, what words, Teodoro?
T EODORO . Lady, you press me sorely. Though she is a woman, I told her once she brought the light. " Your mouth, " I said, " discovers pearls set amid corals, where each outglows the other. "
D IANA . A pretty conceit and fashioned cleverly to please.
T EODORO . The language of love, my lady, of love and of desire!
D IANA . Ah, Teodoro, who would scoff at love? Yet Marcella excels in faults, not graces. She pales among my women. She is not neat, she is not nice, always I reprove her — but this is to discourage love. My mind treasures all, foul or fair, watchful of your nurture. But forget the simple maid. What shall we do, my constant lover, in the affair of my noble friend, consumed and lost for love, and that of a man of humble birth? In loving she forgets herself, denying reason, while the man, poor fool, though in all else a god, hangs his head and droops and smiles, too innocent to see that her soul is wrapped in fire.
T EODORO . Lady, I am ignorant of love, unskilled in counsel, captive only to my vision, which is small.
D IANA . And to Marcella? Ah, cajole and plead, exact love's tribute! Oh, that these walls, these doors, had tongues!
T EODORO . They might speak but have naught to say.
D IANA . Why do you blush? The cheek confesses what the lips deny.
T EODORO . To prevaricate were folly. Once I did take her hand and straightway let it go. Does she charge me with presumption?
D IANA . There are hands, lily hands, that men would kiss and kiss ...
T EODORO . Marcella lies. I dared and drew back ashamed, thinking I had buried my lips in lilies and cold snow.
D IANA . Lilies and cold snow? Fair images both, spring in the heart. Nay, what shall my friend do? Advise me.
T EODORO . If she loves this man without desert, and so offends her honor, might she not by cleverness veil her passion, yet render covert tribute to love?
D IANA . Secrecy spells danger. No, no, best kill the man.
T EODORO . Marcus Aurelius presented the blood of a certain fencing-master to his wife, Faustina, as physic for desire. Virtue was Roman in the ancient day.
D IANA . Lucrece is gone, Torquato dead, and Virginius forgotten, yet be mindful, Teodoro, that Faustina, Poppaea and Messalina were born in their very laps. Write me of these women, write me fully ... Ah, ah!...

Did I fall? Why do you look? Come, give me your hand. Come! I fainted.
T EODORO . Respect detains me.
D IANA . You touch my hand through your cloak? In discourtesy or fear?
T EODORO . As Ottavio offers his, correctly, going to Mass.
D IANA . I ask not his hand, which has been one, alas, for seventy years and so is blenched with death. Teodoro, the lowly must rise by the means that come to hand. Who demands armor before assisting a friend, returning to find him dead? An honest hand requires no glove nor mask.
T EODORO . May merit in some small part warrant this dispensation!
D IANA . A squire offers his hand wrapped in his cape, a secretary never. He walks upright, assured. Nor does he betray the passion of his mistress.
T EODORO . Can I, can I trust and believe? I can.
My eyes declare Diana wholly fair,
She seeks my hand and rosy blushes there
Suffuse her beauty, virgin still to man.
I tremble, chills creep o'er me. Doubt I ban.
Wealth, fortune beckon both beyond compare.
But if I yield and put away all care
I must be bold where prudence softly ran.
Can I deny Marcella and be just?
It is not meet to treat a woman so,
Turning love selfishly into disgust;
Yet maids have lived who bid the man to go.
Weary of love how long maintain love's trust?
And so we die. Women must die also.