ACT I, SCENE II
SCENE: Beatrice's chamber. Beatrice sits on a fauteuil in the attitude of listening.
BEATRICE. Hist! that's his step. Miriam, place the lights Farther away; keep you behind the screen, Breathing no louder than a lily does; For if you stir or laugh 'twill ruin all.
MIRIAM. Laugh! I am faint with terror.
BEATRICE. Then be still. Move not for worlds until I touch the bell, Then do the thing I told you. Hush! his step Sounds in the corridor, and I'm asleep!
LARA _enters. He approaches within a few yards of_ BEATRICE, _pauses, and looks at her._
LARA. Asleep!--and guilt can slumber! Guilt can lie Down-lidded and soft-breathed like innocence! Hath dreams as sweet as childhood's--who can tell? Were I an artist, and did wish to paint A devil to perfection, I'd not limn A hornèd monster, with a leprous skin, Red-hot from Pandemonium--not I. But with my delicatest tints, I'd paint A woman in the glamour of her youth, All garmented with loveliness and mystery! How fair she is! Her beauty glides between Me and my purpose, like a pleading angel.
[BEATRICE _sighs_.
Her dream's broke, like a bubble, in a sigh. She'll waken soon, and that--that must not be! I could not kill her if she looked at me. I loved her, loved her, by the saints, I did-- I trust she prayed before she fell asleep!
BEATRICE [_springing up_]. So, you are come--your dagger in your hand? Your lips compressed and blanchèd, and your hair Tumbled wildly all about your eyes, Like a river-god's? O love, you frighten me! And you are trembling. Tell me what this means.
LARA. Oh! nothing, nothing--I did think to write A note to Juan, to Signor Juan, my friend (Your cousin and my honorable friend); But finding neither ink nor paper here, I thought to scratch it with my dagger's point Upon your bosom, Madam! That is all.
BEATRICE. You've lost your senses!
LARA. Madam, no, I've found 'em!
BEATRICE. Then lose them quickly, and be what you were.
LARA. I was a fool, a dupe--a happy dupe. You should have kept me in my ignorance; For wisdom makes us wretched, king and clown. Countess of Lara, you are false to me!
BEATRICE. Now, by the saints--
LARA. Now, by the saints, you are!
BEATRICE. Upon my honor--
LARA. On your honor? fie! Swear by the ocean's feathery froth, for that Is not so light a substance.
BEATRICE. Hear me, love!
LARA. Lie to that marble Io! I am sick To the heart with lying.
BEATRICE. You've the ear-ache, sir, Got with too much believing.
LARA. Beatrice, I came to kill you.
BEATRICE. Kiss me, Count, you mean!
LARA. If killing you be kissing you, why yes.
BEATRICE. Ho! come not near me with such threatening looks, Stand back there, if you love me, or have loved!
[_As_ LARA _advances_, BEATRICE _retreats to the table and rings a small hand-bell._ MIRIAM, _in the dress of a page, enters from behind the screen and steps between them_.
LARA [_starting back_]. The Page? now, curse him! What? no! Miriam? Hold! 'twas at twilight, in the villa-garden, At dusk, too, on the road to Mantua; But here the light falls on you, man or maid! Stop now; my brain's bewildered. Stand you there, And let me touch you with incredulous hands! Wait till I come, nor vanish like a ghost. If this be Juan's page, why, where is Miriam? If this be Miriam, where's--by all the saints, I have been tricked!
MIRIAM [_laughing_]. By two saints, with your leave!
LARA. The happiest fool in Italy, for my age! And all the damning tales you fed me with, You Sprite of Twilight, Imp of the old Moon!--
MIRIAM [_bowing_]. Were arrant lies as ever woman told; And though not mine, I claim the price for them-- This cap stuffed full of ducats twice a year!
LARA. A trap! a trap that only caught a fool! So thin a plot, I might have seen through it. I've lost my reason!
MIRIAM. And your ducats!
BEATRICE. And A certain set of turquoise at Malan's!
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
OLIVER GOLDSMITH