Ugolino/Act 1 Scene 2
< Ugolino
SCENE II.—St. Mark's Place.—Venice.
Enter Caliari and First Merchant, l. f. e.
First Mer. Is, then, his substance at so low an ebb?
Sir, I am fortunate in meeting you,
He owes me much, and, though, I would not press
Too heavily upon a falling gentleman,
His late behavior hath been such, as all
Who know him will avouch, that pity, which
His losses might have awaken'd, now will sleep,
And those whom he hath used so cavalierly,
But hold them as a judgment on his pride.
Cali. 'Tis true, indeed, sir, not an hour ago,
I spoke to one to whom he lost this morning,
Four thousand ducats. Even since the death
Of old Bertoldi, which was follow'd by
The breaking off of the long rumor'd match
Between the fair Olympia and this Count,
He has play'd deeply, and with constant loss.
First Mer. Know you the reason of that sudden change,
In the fair lady's fancy?
Cali. Sir, I hear,
That she did never much affect the Count,
And waited but an opportunity,
The which her father's death first furnish'd her,
And secondly the story which hath spread:
So widely of Count Ugolino's cruelty
To an unhappy lady he seduced,
And then deserted for Bertoldi's daughter.
'Twas a base act, and one which gave Olympia
The best of reasons for refusing him.
First Mer. 'Tis said the Marquis de Serassi woos
The lady you last nam'd, pray heaven he wins her,
She is a prize worth throwing for, and he,
The very flower of our nobility.
Cali. He is, indeed, a noble gentleman,
And she a matchless lady. Fare you well. sir,
My road lies this way—
First Mer. I am bound to you
For your kind counsel. Farewell, worthy signior.
[Exeunt Caliari, r.; First Merchant, l.
Sir, I am fortunate in meeting you,
He owes me much, and, though, I would not press
Too heavily upon a falling gentleman,
His late behavior hath been such, as all
Who know him will avouch, that pity, which
His losses might have awaken'd, now will sleep,
And those whom he hath used so cavalierly,
But hold them as a judgment on his pride.
Cali. 'Tis true, indeed, sir, not an hour ago,
I spoke to one to whom he lost this morning,
Four thousand ducats. Even since the death
Of old Bertoldi, which was follow'd by
The breaking off of the long rumor'd match
Between the fair Olympia and this Count,
He has play'd deeply, and with constant loss.
First Mer. Know you the reason of that sudden change,
In the fair lady's fancy?
Cali. Sir, I hear,
That she did never much affect the Count,
And waited but an opportunity,
The which her father's death first furnish'd her,
And secondly the story which hath spread:
So widely of Count Ugolino's cruelty
To an unhappy lady he seduced,
And then deserted for Bertoldi's daughter.
'Twas a base act, and one which gave Olympia
The best of reasons for refusing him.
First Mer. 'Tis said the Marquis de Serassi woos
The lady you last nam'd, pray heaven he wins her,
She is a prize worth throwing for, and he,
The very flower of our nobility.
Cali. He is, indeed, a noble gentleman,
And she a matchless lady. Fare you well. sir,
My road lies this way—
First Mer. I am bound to you
For your kind counsel. Farewell, worthy signior.
[Exeunt Caliari, r.; First Merchant, l.
Enter Ugolino, u. e. r.
Ugo. Lost ! lost! all lost! Well, well, what matters it!
Let it go all, and curse the possessors,
As it has me. Gaming! Destructive fiend!
Whose very bounty is thy vot'ry's bane,
Hear Ugolino's prayer! let him not be
Thy latest victim,—in the hearts of those,
Who revel now in his unfaithful fortunes,
Sow thy fast springing seeds; let them still feel
The burning and insatiable thirst
Of grasping avarice, the sick’ning pang
Of baffled hope, the rack of expectation;
And when like him, all desolate they stand,
The butt of insult, and the mock of pity.
Now will the would be Prophets hug themselves,
And say, "I saw this downfall," and the scum
Of base born slaves, who yesterday had crawled,
To lick the dust I trod upon; now triumph,
Like upstart brambles, o'er the fallen pine.
Enter Second Merchant, r. e.
Sec. Mer. Sir, you are well encounter'd,—I have here,
A note of yours for fifty ducats, 'tis
A trifle, which I would not name to you,
But I have been much press'd for moneys lately,
And
Ugo. Sir, your conduct needs not an excuse
You shall be paid, and freely.—[Merchant uncovers.] Nay, sir, keep,—
Keep on your hat.—the wind respects not persons,
And you may suffer thro' civility:
What! you have heard of my misfortune, then?
And, like the expecting shark, which follows still
The dying mariner,—thou dog'st my heels
To make thy clutch the first. [Throws down a purse.
There, [crosses to r.] feed on that.
And come anon for more. I'll pay ye all!
With gold, or with my blood! Hence, whilst thou’rt safe,
My wits may fail me soon—and make thy stay.
But dangerous.
Sec. Mer. I'faith, I'll take his counsel.
[Aside.] I fancy'd all along 'twould come to this. [Exit l.
Ugo. The storm begins,—well, I must buffet it!
Let the weak sink beneath the howling blast,
I'll brave its fury. Ha! what form is that,
Which breaks upon my sight—like the first streak
Of morning, on benighted travellers?
'Tis she.
It is Olympia—O thou piece of witchcraft,
Thou breathing statue, thou unyielding softness,
Say, by what spell hast thou enchanted me,
That I must pay with dotage thy aversion,
And bless thee, whilst I drain the bitter cup
Which thou hast drugg'd for me? beneath thine eye
That spirit sinks, which all the contumely
This world can load it with, would fail to bow—
Fly, Ugolino! fly, that fatal glance!
Which thy heart withers in, yet worships still. [Exit r.
Ugo. Lost ! lost! all lost! Well, well, what matters it!
Let it go all, and curse the possessors,
As it has me. Gaming! Destructive fiend!
Whose very bounty is thy vot'ry's bane,
Hear Ugolino's prayer! let him not be
Thy latest victim,—in the hearts of those,
Who revel now in his unfaithful fortunes,
Sow thy fast springing seeds; let them still feel
The burning and insatiable thirst
Of grasping avarice, the sick’ning pang
Of baffled hope, the rack of expectation;
And when like him, all desolate they stand,
The butt of insult, and the mock of pity.
Now will the would be Prophets hug themselves,
And say, "I saw this downfall," and the scum
Of base born slaves, who yesterday had crawled,
To lick the dust I trod upon; now triumph,
Like upstart brambles, o'er the fallen pine.
Enter Second Merchant, r. e.
Sec. Mer. Sir, you are well encounter'd,—I have here,
A note of yours for fifty ducats, 'tis
A trifle, which I would not name to you,
But I have been much press'd for moneys lately,
And
Ugo. Sir, your conduct needs not an excuse
You shall be paid, and freely.—[Merchant uncovers.] Nay, sir, keep,—
Keep on your hat.—the wind respects not persons,
And you may suffer thro' civility:
What! you have heard of my misfortune, then?
And, like the expecting shark, which follows still
The dying mariner,—thou dog'st my heels
To make thy clutch the first. [Throws down a purse.
There, [crosses to r.] feed on that.
And come anon for more. I'll pay ye all!
With gold, or with my blood! Hence, whilst thou’rt safe,
My wits may fail me soon—and make thy stay.
But dangerous.
Sec. Mer. I'faith, I'll take his counsel.
[Aside.] I fancy'd all along 'twould come to this. [Exit l.
Ugo. The storm begins,—well, I must buffet it!
Let the weak sink beneath the howling blast,
I'll brave its fury. Ha! what form is that,
Which breaks upon my sight—like the first streak
Of morning, on benighted travellers?
'Tis she.
It is Olympia—O thou piece of witchcraft,
Thou breathing statue, thou unyielding softness,
Say, by what spell hast thou enchanted me,
That I must pay with dotage thy aversion,
And bless thee, whilst I drain the bitter cup
Which thou hast drugg'd for me? beneath thine eye
That spirit sinks, which all the contumely
This world can load it with, would fail to bow—
Fly, Ugolino! fly, that fatal glance!
Which thy heart withers in, yet worships still. [Exit r.
Enter Olympia followed by a Servant, l.
Olym. He doth avoid me then? I thank him for't,
'Tis an ungracious task to smooth the brow,
And smile where frowns are rather merited:
Yet so must I dissemble when we meet,
Or rouse the slumb'ring demon lodged within him.
Blest be the hour when I did break with him,
And blest the chance which brought unto mine ear, men
The dismal tale with which I urged my plea.
[To Servant.] Go, sirrah, seek the Marquis of Serassi,
And if thou shouldst o'ertake him ere he reach
Monteno's palace, pray him to return,
That I may speak with him. Stay, come thou in with me,
A note may more persuade him—thou shalt bear one,
Should my late promise to the Marquis reach
Count Ugolino's ear,—I know not what
May be the desperate issue of his rage,
And they should meet—I'll forthwith see Serassi,
And warn him of his danger, ere too late. [Exit with Servant, r.
Olym. He doth avoid me then? I thank him for't,
'Tis an ungracious task to smooth the brow,
And smile where frowns are rather merited:
Yet so must I dissemble when we meet,
Or rouse the slumb'ring demon lodged within him.
Blest be the hour when I did break with him,
And blest the chance which brought unto mine ear, men
The dismal tale with which I urged my plea.
[To Servant.] Go, sirrah, seek the Marquis of Serassi,
And if thou shouldst o'ertake him ere he reach
Monteno's palace, pray him to return,
That I may speak with him. Stay, come thou in with me,
A note may more persuade him—thou shalt bear one,
Should my late promise to the Marquis reach
Count Ugolino's ear,—I know not what
May be the desperate issue of his rage,
And they should meet—I'll forthwith see Serassi,
And warn him of his danger, ere too late. [Exit with Servant, r.