Ugolino/Act 3 Scene 4
< Ugolino
SCENE IV.—Apartment at Ugolino's. Storm heard without.
Enter Ugolino, hastily with a letter, followed by Angelica, d. f. l.
Count. Stand off! art mad?
Ang. I shall be shortly!
Count. Cross not the famish'd tiger in his path,
Away, I say!
Ang. I will not, I will follow thee
Into the public street, and on my knees,
Amidst the gaping multitude, still pray thee,
O, do not, on thy soul already stain'd
With blood, pour crime and crime thus needlessly,
'Till it shall be one foul and horrid blot,
Which not the mercy e'en of heaven may cleanse!
Give me that dreadful letter!
Count. Hence, rash boy!
Rouse not the whirlwind of my wrath till e'en
The very fury of my eye shall kill thee,
I was a fool to trust thee with its purport;
But since thou knowst it, hear me whilst I swear,
Should'st thou by word, or look or sign reveal it,
Nay, should'st thou mutter it but in thy dreams,
(For I will watch thee e'en whilst thou sleep'st)
Thy heart's best blood shall answer for thy treason.
Ang. If thou dost hope forgiveness for thyself! [Seizing cloak.
Count. Fool! I do not, I have nor hope, nor fear,
One only passion rules within my breast,
Revenge! it brooks no joint sovereignty,
'Tis up and raging ! come not in its course,
Like the hot sand storm of the desert plain,
Or the swol'n torrent bursting from its bounds,
Death and destruction join its wild career,
Crushing, confounding all that would obstruct it.
Let go thy hold!
Ange. Not till my prayers are heard. [Loud thunder.
Hark!
The angry heavens speak in thunder to thee,
O, hear their awful voice, tho' deaf to mine,
'Tis an offended God that bids thee hold!
Whose vengeance falls on those, who vengeance seek.
Count. My wrongs cry louder than the storm, away! [Thunder.
What is yon elemental war, compared
To that which rages here,—yon howling rack
Will brawl itself to rest, and morn behold
The bright sun rolling through unclouded ether;
But on my nighted soul no day can rise,
No morning zephyrs lull its storms to sleep.
What! what remains then? but that its wild rage
Should ruin her whose wizzard spell hath rais'd it,—
Moments are ages till the bolt is sped,
And thou delay'st it, thus officious fool!
Thus do I dash thee from me, hence or die!
[Throwing her from him and drawing sword.
Ange. Strike if thou dars't, I fear thee not; the Doge,
Since tears nor prayers can pierce thy stony heart,
I'll to him, and denounce thee;—To all Venice
Will I proclaim thy fiendish villany,
Thou most remorseless monster!
Count. [furiously.] Threaten'd! Worm!
Down to the dust that bred thee. [stabs her.] Perish, traitor!
And with thee die the secret.
Ange. God forgive thee!
My aim's accomplish'd—wretch'd Ugolino!
Had all thine acts been merciful as this,
What pangs had I been spar'd, kind death, thou sav'st me,
From being longer an accessary
To crimes, which I but labor'd to prevent,
And from the dread, but sole alternative,
A fatal accusation against one,
Whom not his guilt nor thy stern icy grasp,
Can make less dear to poor Angelica.
Count. Angelica! no! no! thou didst not say so
Not, not Angelica!
Ange. O, Ugolino!
By all the injuries that thou hast done me,
For which may heaven pardon thee as I do
Harm not Olympia. With her latest breath,
Angelica, thy poor forsaken victim,
Thy loving faithful page, beseeches thee—
Oh, my strength fails me—Promise ere I die,
Oh, promise! Promise me.[Dies.
Count. Stand off! art mad?
Ang. I shall be shortly!
Count. Cross not the famish'd tiger in his path,
Away, I say!
Ang. I will not, I will follow thee
Into the public street, and on my knees,
Amidst the gaping multitude, still pray thee,
O, do not, on thy soul already stain'd
With blood, pour crime and crime thus needlessly,
'Till it shall be one foul and horrid blot,
Which not the mercy e'en of heaven may cleanse!
Give me that dreadful letter!
Count. Hence, rash boy!
Rouse not the whirlwind of my wrath till e'en
The very fury of my eye shall kill thee,
I was a fool to trust thee with its purport;
But since thou knowst it, hear me whilst I swear,
Should'st thou by word, or look or sign reveal it,
Nay, should'st thou mutter it but in thy dreams,
(For I will watch thee e'en whilst thou sleep'st)
Thy heart's best blood shall answer for thy treason.
Ang. If thou dost hope forgiveness for thyself! [Seizing cloak.
Count. Fool! I do not, I have nor hope, nor fear,
One only passion rules within my breast,
Revenge! it brooks no joint sovereignty,
'Tis up and raging ! come not in its course,
Like the hot sand storm of the desert plain,
Or the swol'n torrent bursting from its bounds,
Death and destruction join its wild career,
Crushing, confounding all that would obstruct it.
Let go thy hold!
Ange. Not till my prayers are heard. [Loud thunder.
Hark!
The angry heavens speak in thunder to thee,
O, hear their awful voice, tho' deaf to mine,
'Tis an offended God that bids thee hold!
Whose vengeance falls on those, who vengeance seek.
Count. My wrongs cry louder than the storm, away! [Thunder.
What is yon elemental war, compared
To that which rages here,—yon howling rack
Will brawl itself to rest, and morn behold
The bright sun rolling through unclouded ether;
But on my nighted soul no day can rise,
No morning zephyrs lull its storms to sleep.
What! what remains then? but that its wild rage
Should ruin her whose wizzard spell hath rais'd it,—
Moments are ages till the bolt is sped,
And thou delay'st it, thus officious fool!
Thus do I dash thee from me, hence or die!
[Throwing her from him and drawing sword.
Ange. Strike if thou dars't, I fear thee not; the Doge,
Since tears nor prayers can pierce thy stony heart,
I'll to him, and denounce thee;—To all Venice
Will I proclaim thy fiendish villany,
Thou most remorseless monster!
Count. [furiously.] Threaten'd! Worm!
Down to the dust that bred thee. [stabs her.] Perish, traitor!
And with thee die the secret.
Ange. God forgive thee!
My aim's accomplish'd—wretch'd Ugolino!
Had all thine acts been merciful as this,
What pangs had I been spar'd, kind death, thou sav'st me,
From being longer an accessary
To crimes, which I but labor'd to prevent,
And from the dread, but sole alternative,
A fatal accusation against one,
Whom not his guilt nor thy stern icy grasp,
Can make less dear to poor Angelica.
Count. Angelica! no! no! thou didst not say so
Not, not Angelica!
Ange. O, Ugolino!
By all the injuries that thou hast done me,
For which may heaven pardon thee as I do
Harm not Olympia. With her latest breath,
Angelica, thy poor forsaken victim,
Thy loving faithful page, beseeches thee—
Oh, my strength fails me—Promise ere I die,
Oh, promise! Promise me.[Dies.
Ugolino, who appears horror struck during this speech, with a frantic cry utters the name of Angelica and sinks beside the body. The scene closes.