LITMIR.BIZ

      And yet – perchance it is as well they come

      Now … while there yet is time for more withdrawals.

      Osio (starting).

      More?

      Bianca.

      For – I fear all trust in you is folly;

      And that the heresy of Rizzio

      Which I agreed with you to take unto

      Monsignor Querio —

      Osio (clenching).

      Shall not be taken?

      Not! but you leave the brunt to me alone?

      Bianca.

      You purpose more, I think, than to restrain him.

      Osio.

      And you more than abjuring! You would gaze

      Upon his godless schisms, …

      Upon the naked luring of his lies!

      Bianca.

      No! Tho the beauty of them —

      Osio.

      Beauty! beauty!

      That wind of infidelity from Hell

      He blows out of his lips do you call beauty!

      No! – and he with his poets and philosophers,

      His Platos

      And star-mad Copernicas,

      And that Dominican, Giordano Bruno,

      For whom the stake to flames will yet be lit,

      Shall learn you are too late in your relenting!

      Bianca (stricken).

      Too … late!

      Osio.

      His heresies shall reap their due.

      Bianca (death-pale).

      Which means – that you

      already have revealed them!

      Have sent unto Monsignor Querio

      To-day —

      Rizzio's wedding-day! —

      For that

      It was you sought out Matteo, who, pledged

      Unto Marina,

      As were you to me,

      Has broke his troth?..

      And now, now you await him? – O was not

      Your promise to me that a week should pend

      Ere any step?

      Osio.

      I will not lose my soul,

      And dallying is the feebleness of fools.

      Bianca.

      And will lies save it – tho they be for Heaven! —

      To one who nigh has lost her soul for you?

      We have been friends, Osio, long been friends,

      And, woman that I am, I would 'twere more,

      But in this I suspect —

      Osio.

      Enough! we prate!

      I say enough.

      Bianca.

      And I say all too little,

      Until I tell you now plain to your face,

      And to your heart

      Plunging toward this passion,

      That not alone a hate of heresy

      Is haunting you to it, but that the lips

      And eyes and brows and soul of —

      Osio.

      Will you cease!

      Bianca.

      I tell you that you love her – Porzia!

      And veer but to the vision of her face!

      Osio (who after strangling silence finds words).

      If you say that, Bianca, ever again

      Or if, by all the demons that Avernus

      Pours out upon the black Phlegraean fields,

      You hint it or suggest it to her, till —

      Bianca.

      Till you achieve her! and have wrapped the rites

      Of the Church round your achieving?

      Till you have severed her from Rizzio —

      Have swept her from perdition —

      Into your swathing arms! I say you shall not!

      Me you have set aside, but there an end!

      Osio.

      Stop! whither do you go?

      Bianca.

      To call them! call!

      And to betray your treachery – and mine!

      Rizzio! Porzia! Rizzio!

      Osio.

      Maledictions!

      Will you become a dagger, and not know,

      Stiletto that you are, what thing you stab!

      Bianca.

      The infatuation festering within you!

      Till, deaf with the desire of it and dream,

      You cannot tell their voice from Deity's.

      Rizzio! Porzia! Tasso!

      Rizzio (within; startled).

      It was Bianca!

      How? what? you called? what moves you? – Osio?

      Was some one here? what is it? speak!.. Bianca?

      What burns you?

      Bianca.

      You shall hear! It must

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