Not so, my Lord,
‘Tis I, not he who needs should suffer Thy wrath.
Valentio:
Nay, heed him not, my Lord; he speaks
Thus, driven by a generous nature.
Duke [to Valentio and Uberto]:
Verrily
I marvel greatly at your words: I have
Not seen before this day men enamoured
So much to punishment! I do commend
Your noble friendship, but yet I demand
To know who the offender is.
Valentio:
‘Tis I.
Uberto:
Nay, ‘tis I.
Duke [reflecting]:
Since each of you would fain
So firmly bear the charge and doth abide
Unshaken in his judgment, it meseems
Well to devise some other way to extricate
Us from this difficulty. [to Lamb.] A daughter fair
Hast thou, if I am well informed: a maid
More fair than heaven’s sun, but not a whit
Less scorching, whom I did behold one day
Happier than any in my life, and so
Surpassing fair was she that amorous Time,
Wounded by the darts of Love fled with haste
Lest he be wounded more, that I knew not how;
And she made ma sore rune my palsied age
And envy most bold youth.
Lamb. [bowing low]:
My Lord, you flood
My humble self with all this generous praise,
Beyond all hope of thanks I abide
In debt.
Duke:
She’s called Beatrice, is it not so?
Uberto [aside, with his hand on his heart]:
Hush, fond heart,
Thou makest me believe it was her name I heard!
Oddo [aside, impatiently]:
The devil, the Duke turned out a doting lover!
Duke:
Most becoming name for one who doth
Have eyes that make the jealous Queen of Night
To quit with shame and heaven’s lights burn out
Themselves with spite.
Uberto [aside]:
Of her he must be speaking, since to whom
Other than her can this description fit.
But yet I fear my ears do play me false,
Or I awake in an idle dream
With semblance of reality.
Duke:
She is
A virgin rose but newly blown from the bud.
‘Tis seemly that the amorous butterflies
Should woo her from her maiden dreams.
Lamb.:
Mean you
My Lord: that she should marry?
Duke:
Aye, that I meant.
Uberto [aside]:
O joy! What glorious hope doth swell from out the dark
Deeps of my heart, like as the glorious break of day
After a weary night; and yet I dare not
Cherish it for long, and feed it with my
Slumbering dreams lest its life’s span
Be brief even as it is glorious.
Lamb.:
To whom,
My Lord
Duke:
Why, to Valentio;
And the gall of hatred will pass away
Like as a summer cloud.
Oddo [aside, angrily]:
By Beelzebub!
A lunatic would not utter such a damned outrage! [aloud]
My Lord, surely you are but jesting, though
I must avow it doth amuse me not.
Uberto [aside]:
Great heavens! heard you all this? No, No,
It cannot be! What man would steal my Love
From me; no not my friend! My wrought fancy
Is fooling me. Aye, ‘tis my fancy.
[tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow, and he starts]
But wherefore
My laugh sounds so, and wherefore do I start?
Duke [to Oddo]:
Why dost thou marvel; ‘tis very simple. [to Valentio] What
Sayst thou?
Valentio:
My thanks to Your Highness for your
Most generous offer; but whether I do
Espouse a maiden fair or else a colder Fate
‘Tis one to me; nay, if any of the gentlemen
Doth wish, by reason of aught whate’er,
To th’ contrary of what Your Highness
Did propose, ‘tis my desire to bear your wrath
And punishment than be mistook
For some wife-sheltered coward.
Duke [turning to Lamb. and Oddo]:
What say you?
Lamb.:
I’m of your mind, Your Highness.
Oddo:
I’m not—you’re murdering Justice!
Lamb.:
Nay, it is
My private right to grant consent, or to
Refrain. [to Rinieri]
What thinkest thou?
Rinieri:
‘Tis proper that
He doth espouse thy daughter.
[in an undertone] He seems
A worthy gentleman.
Valentio:
My Lord, I . . . .
Duke [interrupting him]:
No more protests!
Oddo:
You band yourselves
‘Gainst me. I shall abide it no more. [aside, looking at Buondelmonte with flaming eyes and clenched fist]
Thou hast again escaped me: and with