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Was he to see you mate a heretic, Or from your body spring the Anti-Christ?
A year ago you wedded one, and I Was ready with the hands of the Inquisition.
They seized him with his pagan pride upon him, And from this house of feasting and of flowers He went. You had a message brought from Matteo Saying he would return to you at midnight.
I came, and in the darkness of the bower, Which G.o.d made darker, You took my arms for his!--were mine, were mine!
_Porzia_ (_who has sunk to a seat, rising_). Never!--But now I know what I have feared, What dread it is invisibly has bound me-- Invisibly, unvariably!... I know, And so shall break it!
Your thought has been to shadow me about With this unceasing thing, to make me so Believe--and so obtain me!
Your voice, eyes, lips and being with this purpose Have held my soul unswervably to fear, But now it is free! free, free!
_Osio._ And will be when Rizzio comes?
_Porzia._ Rizzio?
_Osio._ Out of prison?
[_As she gazes at him._
I tell you the child is mine! for Rizzio Returned not to you. Mine, mine, and you must Protect it and yourself.
_Porzia._ From--?... do you mean?
O do you mean that he may come? that you Expect him, O and soon? and that Bianca--?
_Osio._ I mean no mysteries, but that the child Is mine-- And you may be-- And all be well.
_Porzia._ But he will come? you have some intimation?
Some waft of his release, some prescience?
But say it and I will forgive you all!
Say that my arms once more shall clasp him to me!
Say that my heart once more shall beat to his!
Say that my eyes once more shall drink the dawn From his, and I--
_Osio._ Be still. For if you will not Now, now be mine, one thing must be a.s.sured Beyond the sway of peril: It must be kept from him there is a child.
_Porzia._ Never! but I will lay it in his arms, Unto the cradle of his bosom bring it-- While I have hands of purity to lift it-- And--
_Osio._ Have him fling it forth? Hus.h.!.+ what is here?
[_A knocking at the gate: amazed cries: then Rizzio's voice._
_Porzia._ Rizzio! Rizzio! Rizzio!
_Rizzio_ (_without_). Porzia! Porzia!
[_He enters, weak and worn, in tattered raiment, and comes down to where she gazes too overcome to embrace him._
_Rizzio._ My Porzia! (_With a clasp._) O do I look upon you, Not on some prison vision that will vanish Between my arms to nothingness of air?
Some wan and hollow haunting of the night?
Look up into my soul and speak to me With eyes that are incarnate songs of love!
Ah, what, you cannot?
The swiftness of my coming has undone you?
_Porzia._ No, no!
_Rizzio._ Then give reality to dreams, Linking your lips to mine!... Oh, oh! at last!
At last I know I live And am more than A madness in miasmic night immured!
And that eternity of want can end-- Upon your breast--within this house where--(_Seeing Osio_) You?
[_With inexplicable antagonism._
_Osio._ I ... and I have no welcome for you, knowing That heresy is still hot in your heart.
_Rizzio._ For which you with accursed joy are glad?...
[_Osio goes rankling into garden._
What does he here, my Porzia? what does he?
[_Troubled._
Has he been much with you? Sometimes there in My fetters I have fought strange dreams of him, Battled against him as against a brood Of elemental horrors and contagion.
Yet when I would awake--
_Porzia_ (_clinging fearfully_). My Rizzio!...
_Rizzio._ Ai, yours! when hope was darkest, when the links Of wolvish steel were feeding on my bone.
[_Holds out wrists._
Or like a python wound me as I slept.
_Porzia._ The pity of my heart and lips shall heal them.
[_With caresses._
_Rizzio._ They and the pa.s.sion of you, and the peace And beauty of your body and your soul, That were torn from me at the very altar, But now--purer for waiting--shall be mine.
_Porzia_ (_trembling_). Yes, yes, Rizzio!
_Rizzio._ Say, say it again!
For oh, the jealous fears that have defiled me, The visions I have called a lie in vain, The hot hands I have seen laid on your beauty!
[_To her look of helplessness._
O say it! for you gaze--as if you could not!
As if ... O what is wringing you! You can Not say it--that no arms but mine have held you, No lips but mine have ever lingered, ever--?
[_A pitiful cry of distress breaks from within, then a hurry of feet and Marina rushes on anguished._
_Marina._ My lady! O my lady!... the child! the child!
