SCENE V.
_A Chamber in the Palace._
_Enter the DUKE._
DUKE. Arouse thee!--fly. Ere yet the fetters closer to thine heart Are riveted--immoved for ever! Thou counsellest well--these are ignoble trammels. And I do rid me of them. Once--'tis fix'd-- A short, sad hour we meet, and then farewell! Duty, remorseless, bids me.--There I'll pour Into her wondering ear a hapless tale Of thwarted love--hearts broken, severed By obdurate fate--and in that feign'd lament, Bewail mine own.--I must my story tell; None other cause could I with honour urge Why thus we part--for ever!
_Enter FABIAN._
FABIAN. My lord, a woman of strange aspect, And habited in Eastern garb, sits now Within the western porch, waiting your presence. She would not tell to me her errand.
DUKE. How-- A stranger, and from whence?--Knowest thou her name?
FABIAN. She holds most resolute silence--I forebore To question her.
DUKE. Describe this sullen guest.
FABIAN. A turban girds her brow, white as the sea-foam, Whence, all untrammelled, her dark thin hair Streams fitfully upon her storm-beat front; Her eye at rest, pale fire in its black orb Innocuous sleeps--but roused, Jove's thunder-cloud Enkindles not so fiercely! Once it shot Full on mine eye:--in dazzling terror yet It haunts my brain!
DUKE. How eloquent the tongue When the soul stirs it!--I would see, unharm'd, This quickened volcano! [_Exit FABIAN._ Some moon-struck wanderer Craving redress for her wrong'd fancies.
_Enter FABIAN followed by ZORAYDA; she stands in silence gazing at the DUKE._
Woman, what seekest thou?--Doth silence best Declare thine errand?
ZORAYDA. Silence best, my lord, Should tell thy destiny--Heaven hath commanded To speak no evil.
DUKE. A rare conceit.--What more?--Is this thy message? Haste,--we command not back the passing time:-- To thy request.
ZORAYDA. Much need hast thou to note These priceless minutes;--let no fragment slip Ungathered.--Yet my boon thou wilt not grant! Seest thou yon shadow?-- [_She beckons him to the window._
DUKE. Nought this ungifted eye beholds But the dark battlement upon the stream, Spread by the tranquil moon.
ZORAYDA. Seest thou yon pennon Furl'd from the turret, floating on the verge Of that still, sedgy shore?--
DUKE. Its shadow falls Where thou dost point;--but how may this befit With thy request?
ZORAYDA. At thy far-echoing birth, When hoarse artillery told to Mantua, Thy wailing entrance to a troublous life, Yon trembling shadow fell, as now it meets, Just on the rippled bank,--uniting each-- The calm wave and the shore.--
DUKE. Thy meaning, stranger.
ZORAYDA. Ere yet the bubbling life crept through thy veins, 'Twas thus decreed: thine hour of danger comes, And sudden death, when that dim shadow passes Where at thy birth it brooded.--
DUKE. (_Aside to FABIAN._) Watch this woman; Suspicion wakes at her discourse.--(_To ZORAYDA._)-- That shadow Hath oft-time pass'd, no danger thence betiding.
ZORAYDA. Thy death can happen not, save when, as now, The pale moon flings yon omen from her beam; But ever it bodes danger.
DUKE. For this purpose Enterest thou my chamber?
ZORAYDA. I have sought thee To give rejected counsel.--What! some treachery From me thou fearest!--Bind me--gird my chains To the unhewn rock beneath the unvisited depths Of these abhorr'd foundations--I would wear them Without a murmur could'st thou listen!--Hark! Thus runs the record of thy house:
"_When the proud eagle From his cloud-wreath'd nest Enamour'd meets the dove, And sighs on her soft bosom, One shaft shall pierce them._"
Duke, beware----that shaft shall come! Let it not find thee in that perilous hour, Prescience forebodes thee, at some lady's ear Sighing unhallowed love.--Its malice then Harms not thy breast, another bears the stroke! Remember--once again I meet thee. [_Exit ZORAYDA._
FABIAN. My lord, the guard shall rid you of the witch.
DUKE. Let her depart, she harms me not.
FABIAN. You seem O'erspent with watching, and forget your couch.-- Betake you now to your accustom'd rest?
DUKE. My _rest_?--'Tis well;--but will the couch give rest? Ay, to the wearied limb--but not the weary breast! Follow me, boy, unto my chamber. [_Exeunt._