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POET
(_to the_ Young d.u.c.h.ess, _whispering_)
Madam, methinks his Highness is unwell. Turn round, I pray you.
YOUNG d.u.c.h.eSS (_without turning_).
He feels the play's charm. Hush.
d.u.c.h.eSS DOWAGER (_whispering_)
Come Ferdinand, you are faint. Come with me.
DUKE (_whispering_)
Nay, mother. It will pa.s.s. Only a certain oppression at the heart, I was once subject to. Let us be still.
Song (_repeats_)
Only we'll live awhile, as children play, Without to-morrow, without yesterday.
_A few bars of ritornello after the song_.
d.u.c.h.eSS DOWAGER (_whispering_)
Courage, my son, I know all.
ARIADNE
(_Recitative with accompaniment of violins, flute and harp_)
Theseus, I've sung my song. Alas, alas for our poor songs we sing to the beloved, and vainly try to vary into newness!
_A few notes of the harp well up, slow and liquid_.
Now I can go to rest, and darkness lap my weary heart. Theseus, my love, good night!
_Violins tremolo. The hautboy suddenly enters with a long wailing phrase_. ARIADNE _quickly mounts on to the back of the stage, turns round for one second, waving a kiss to an imaginary person, and then flings herself down into the lake_.
_A great burst of applause. Enter immediately, and during the cries and clapping, a chorus of_ Water-Nymphs _in transparent veils and garlands of willows and lilies, which sings to a solemn counterpoint, the dirge of_ ARIADNE. _But their singing is barely audible through the applause of the whole Court, and the shouts of_ "DIEGO! DIEGO! ARIADNE! ARIADNE!"
_The young_ d.u.c.h.eSS _rises excitedly, wiping her eyes_.
YOUNG d.u.c.h.eSS
Dear friend! Diego! Diego! Our Orpheus, come forth!
CROWD
Diego! Diego!
POET (_to the_ POPE'S LEGATE)
He is a real artist, and scorns to spoil the play's impression by truckling to this foolish habit of applause.
MARCHIONESS
Still, a mere singer, a page----when his betters call----. But see! the Duke has left our midst.
CARDINAL
He has gone to bring back Diego in triumph, doubtless.
VENETIAN AMBa.s.sADOR
And, I note, his venerable mother has also left us. I doubt whether this play has not offended her strict widow's austerity.
YOUNG d.u.c.h.eSS
But where is Diego, meanwhile?
_The Chorus and orchestra continue the dirge for_ ARIADNE. A GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING _elbows through the crowd to the_ CARDINAL.
GENTLEMAN (_whispering_)
Most Eminent, a word----
CARDINAL (_whispering_)
The Duke has had a return of his malady?
GENTLEMAN (_whispering_)
No, most Eminent. But Diego is nowhere to be found. And they have brought up behind the stage the body of a woman in Ariadne's weeds.
CARDINAL (whispering)
Ah, is that all? Discretion, pray. I knew it. But 'tis a most distressing accident. Discretion above all.
_The Chorus suddenly breaks off. For on to the stage comes the_ DUKE.
_He is dripping, and bears in his arms the dead body, drowned, of_ DIEGO, _in the garb of_ ARIADNE. _A shout from the crowd_.
YOUNG d.u.c.h.eSS
(_with a cry, clutching the_ POET'S _arm_)
Diego!
DUKE
