# Teresa Contarini/Act III
## ACT III
### SCENE I

Fiorilla's house.---Enter Fiorilla and Leonardo
Fiorilla
    The letter was delivered?
Leonardo
    'Twas entrusted
    To one who never failed me, and the messenger
    Is even now returned.
Fiorilla
    Did he reveal
    The whole to Foscarini?
Leonardo
    No---we judged
    The youth should know naught of his lady's falsehood.
    'Twas vaguely urged, that matters of deep import
    Required his presence here; that enemies
    Were laboring 'gainst his peace. But, pardon me---
    I know not how this artifice may prevent
    The nuptials of proud Contarini!
Fiorilla
    Know you
    That Foscarini loves the maid, and she
    Returns his passion, bitterly detesting
    His haughty rival! Let the youthful lover
    Come at the latest hour---his presence crosses
    These ill starred nuptials.
Leonardo
    And you, fairest lady---
    Forgive me---is a false admirer worth
    Such stratagem to regain?
Fiorilla
    Hear me, Leonardo.
    You see me but the gay and fickle dame
    Whose smiles are showered on all; to whom the hours,
    Brilliant alike, seem but to bring their tribute
    Of emulous sweets, even as the gilded flowers
    Yield up their honey to the fluttering insect.
    How well for those who bask in Pleasure's smile,
    She wears a mask!
Leonardo
    But your smile is the sunlight
    That banishes all gloom where'er it shines.
Fiorilla
    Yet envious philosophers have said
    The sun himself, that warms and gladdens all,
    Is a cold, lifeless mass. No more of that.
    His beams can scorch and wither---so can those
    You've aptly likened to them, when condensed
    In hatred's burning glass.
Leonardo
    I cannot guess
    Your meaning.
Fiorilla
    Contarini---you may deem
    'Twas vanity---'Twas pride---that bound me to him!
    Folly! when all that Venice boasts of rank
    And wealth were at my feet, why should I spurn
    Such suppliance---turning to one who seemed
    To mock my power?
Leonardo
    He never offered, then,
    His solemn vows?
Fiorilla
    He did! by all that's sacred!
    And I, who feigned his passionate words to hear
    As the wind's idle breath, treasured them deep,
    Deep in my soul, which they have filled with gall.
    Aye! and its bitterness shall be distilled
    In drops upon his heart! Stay, Leonardo,
    You've not heard all. You shall not see me creep
    Like a scorned slave, aside, while others fill
    The place that should be mine. I'll hurl him thence
    Or ere he gains that height!
Leonardo
    Nay, lady---
Fiorilla
    Yes!
    'Tis you must aid me, while I bring to light
    His plottings. It will peril many a head
    In Venice---but I care not, so he finds
    The hand he spurned is armed with deadly power!
Leonardo
    If you have aught of import to disclose,
    Madam, unto the council------
Fiorilla
    Aye---the council!
    And they shall hear! Yet, tell me, is not he
    One of that fearful number who preside
    In secret o'er the state?
Leonardo
    'Tis rumored so---
    But the inquisitors' persons are unknown.
Fiorilla
    'Tis well. Forget my passion and my words.
    Now to our business. Leonardo, seek
    This youth, and speedily conduct him hither;
    He cannot come too soon. I will await you.
[ Exeunt.

### SCENE II

Teresa's chamber. Teresa, in bridal robes, sitting at a table, with writing materials
Teresa
    I cannot write to him! If I would guide
    The pen, my hand refuses to record
    The tale it ought to tell. Oh, fatal hand!
    Which soon must seal my shame, well dost thou shrink
    To do the accusing office!---Foscarini!
    Yet may I breathe that name! the walls about me
    Will not yet hear it as a guilty sound,
    But softly echo back the whispered word,
    As if their stones could pity!---
    To-night! to-night!
    I'm strangely calm. So long I've pondered on it,
    It seems that even despair has lost its keenness,
    And only sits a thick and leaden weight
    Upon my soul. I've wept, alas! so much,
    The founts of grief are dry, and will not yield
    A drop to soften me!
Enter Matilda.
    Why have you come?
Matilda
    Forgive me---'Tis not meet
    You should be left alone with sombre thoughts
    At such an hour.
Teresa
    It is not late.
Matilda
    Look out---
    The sun has long since set.
Teresa
    Some envious cloud
    It is, that hides his beams.
Matilda
    No! it is night---
    The summit of yon gilded cupola,
    Where last the hues of sunset ever linger,
    Has long been wrapt in gloom!
. Teresa
    Is it not strange
    I should regret the daylight?
Matilda
    Come---no more
    Of these sad musings. You have cherished them
    'Till your fair cheek is pale, and unbecoming
    A youthful bride. Why look---these radiant pearls,
    Whose pure transparence should have suited well
    With your fresh brow, will find their whiteness shamed.
Teresa
    Matilda!
Matilda
    Here---these flowers are fresh; I'll wreathe them
    In the full wavings of your hair. I'll braid it
    In dark, rich folds upon your temples. Ah!
    That form, so stately, yet so full of grace,
    That high fair front---they will indeed proclaim you
    The queen of loveliness, to every eye
    That seeks you in its homage!
Teresa
    Hush! Matilda---
    Waste not your idle praises.
Matilda
    I will keep them
    For other ears. But should I not be proud
    To deck you for your nuptials?
Teresa (shuddering)
    No!
Matilda
    Look not
    So sadly. True---you love not Contarini;---
    But who among us thinks to wed for love,
    When wealth, and rank, and power, and all that's dear
    To woman's heart, do beckon us to seize them!
    Oh! trust me! love's a bauble, fit to toy with---
    But like the shining plaything of the child,
    To be thrown by, when riper years bestow
    Far richer gifts, and teach him 'Twas a trifle
    He prized before!
Teresa
    Nay, nay---I need not this.
    My heart is senseless. It is cold---cold---cold!
    Steeled in an apathy more deep than wo,
    Which even keen thought can never pierce again.
    What nights of feverish unrest I've borne,
    What days of weeping and of bitterness,
    When I have schooled me to a mocking calmness,
    While my heart ached within! But all is past!
    My spirit is a waste o'er which hath raged
    The desolating fire, to leave its trace
    In blackened ruins!---I can feel no more!
    Would that I could! I'd rather bear the gnawing
    Of anguish, than this dull, dead, frozen void,
    In which all sense is buried!
Matilda
    Would the harp
    Soothe you? or shall I sing those cheerful songs
    That once you loved to hear?
Teresa
    No---no---the sound
    Would be a mockery.---Yet, if time urge not,
    I'd have you read to me that mournful tale
    We oft have read together---of a maid
    Compelled like me to nuptials she abhorred,---
    Who fled to death's arms to escape that bridal,
    And sleeps within the grave of him she loved.
Matilda
    Nay---nay---you shall not hear so sad a story!
Teresa
    It cannot move me. Hers was a bold spirit,
    That dared to spurn the chain, and purchase peace
    Even at the price of life.---Would I could be
    Like her!
Matilda
    Teresa!
Teresa
    Fear me not---my hands
    Are cowards; 'and my veins were never meant
    To flow with blood like that which nourishes
    Heroic hearts.'---There's something in death's aspect,
    Even when he smiles, that human spirits quail at!
    'The foolish skin doth creep---and the frame shudder,
    At thought of what awaits them---the dusk pall---
    The narrow house---the clay cold living tenants---'
Matilda
    Holy St. Mary! Are such thoughts as these
    Meet for a festival?
Teresa
    A festival!
    True---there's a noble festival at hand!
    Yes---yes---I will be passive.---Deck me out
    A victim---oh, how truly!---At the altar,
    Say---must I wear a smile!
Matilda
    Oh! not like that!
    No---do not smile---the veil will hide your face.---
Teresa
    Will it? that's well.---I fear me it would shame
    The gay surrounding group.---They are not wont
    To see such revellers. My looks would wither
    More roses than will deck the festal hall!
Matilda
    Talk not so strangely!
Teresa
    Strangely? am I changed?
Matilda
    Oh, sadly!
Teresa
    I rejoice---I would be changed!
    Who comes?
[ Enter two female attendants.
Attendant
    My lady, will you go?
Teresa
    Whither?
Matilda
    Do you forget? but a few moments
    Remain---
Attendant
    My lord enquires for you. The guests
    Are even now assembled.
Teresa
    It is well.
    I'll follow you.
[ Exeunt.

### SCENE III

A street, faintly lighted. Enter Foscarini
Foscarini
    Once more in Venice! How my native air
    Takes from these limbs their weariness! What were
    The breezes of the rugged Alps, to this,
    So bland---so wooing? All, in loveliness
    The same---the same! The Lagune, brightly clear,
    Yet mirrors in its depths the marble domes
    That rise above it---lordly towers---where shine
    A thousand torches, like so many stars
    Gleaming through clouds of silver. From afar,
    The surge-like tone of multitudes, the hum
    Of glad, familiar voices, and the wild
    Faint music of the happy gondolier,
    Float up in blended murmurs. Queen of cities!
    Goddess of ocean! with the beauty crowned
    Of Aphrodite from her parent deep!
    If thine Ausonian heaven denies the strength
    That nerves a mountain race of sterner mould,
    It gives thee charms whose very softness wins
    All hearts to worship!
Enter Vincentio
    By this light---Vincentio?
    Whence come you, signor?
Vincentio
    Foscarini?
Foscarini
    Aye!
    What news are stirring?
Vincentio
    None---of note.
Foscarini
    You come
    I augur by your garb---from some late festival?
Vincentio
    A bridal. One of our first citizens
    To-night doth wed his daughter---and assembles
    The prime of Venice. Light, and flowers, and smiles,
    Soon wearied me---who am not wont to toy
    My hours away in mirth.
Foscarini
    Then, splenetic,
    You left the joyous scene?
Vincentio
    'Twas not all joy.
    If I mistake not, with the flowers that wrought
    The bridal wreath, some leaves of bitterness
    Were mingled.
Foscarini
    Ha!
Vincentio
    The bridegroom rich and noble---
    The father proud and pleased---the guests all smiling---
    But the mute bride!---I could not see her face,
    But in her drooping form, like a bowed lily---
    Her passive mien, and strange unconsciousness,
    I read far more than bashfulness.
Foscarini
    Indeed!
Vincentio
    Before the altar she might have been deemed
    A life like statue. From her veiled lips
    Her words came slow and solemn, as the oracle
    Speaks from its cloudy shrine.---Oh! much I fear
    The fathers of our city are grown stern,
    And sacrifice to gold and foul ambition
    Treasures of youthful love.
Foscarini (aside)
    I dare not utter
    The doubt that's at my heart---(aloud)---The bridegroom, said you?
Vincentio
    Is stern and haughty---though in courtesy
    Well skilled---as noble senator should be. (ironically)
Foscarini
    A senator? his name------
Vincentio
    'Tis Contarini---
    A synonyme for all that's merciful! (sneeringly)
Foscarini
    The bride?
Vincentio
    Teresa---daughter to------
Foscarini
    No move!
    Or I shall stop your breath! begone!
Vincentio
    What's this?
Foscarini
    Hence! you have basely slandered her---the fairest---
    The truest.---No! 'Twas not Teresa! speak!
    You have mistaken her name?
Vincentio
    I spoke the truth---
    Veniero's daughter.
Foscarini
    Well---begone and leave me!
[Exit Vincentio. (Foscarini paces the scene a few moments in silence---then suddenly stops.)
    If this be true, I'll seek her---I'll confront her---
    I'll blast her sight---and drag her from his arms.
    E'en at their bridal feast inflict the penalty
    Of guile like hers. Away.
[ Exit.

### SCENE IV

A spacious and magnificent apartment, brilliantly decorated and illuminated. Veniero discovered. Numerous guests, some in masks, seemingly in conversation.
Enter the Doge, Badoero, Contarini, Teresa, Matilda, and others.
Veniero
    Once more we welcome all! Let mirth reign here,
    Since ne'er a day hath dawned, of joy like this!
    And Loredano too---I craved his presence;
    Why comes he not? I harbor no resentments
    In this glad hour. When happiness o'erflows
    The heart, its tide doth sweep all evil thoughts
    Like wrecks, away. He should be welcome here.
    Say---will ye pledge me, friends?
Doge
    Most willingly.
    This to the noble lady, in whose honor
    We are to-night assembled. Ne'er till now
    So fair a claim to loyalty hath met
    Our willing homage.
Veniero
    Cheer, my girl! wear not
    That solemn aspect, which would better grace
    The sanctuary! Our friends and your fond sire
    Invoke your smiles to make them happy.
Teresa
    Sir,
    I thank both them and you.
Veniero (to Contarini)
    I pray you, Signor,
    Since to your keeping my authority
    Over this wayward girl is now surrendered,
    Command her to be merry.
Contarini
    Pardon me.
    You would not have me claim so speedily
    A wife's obedience! Now, at least, her will
    Shall rule herself and me!
Veniero
    Oh! you will be
    A proper husband! Who begins by bending
    His neck to greet the yoke---henceforth must wear it!
(Foscarini enters, masked, and remains at the back of the scene, watching Teresa)
Contarini
    And where could chains so golden and so soft,
    Clasped by a hand so fair, enfold a captive
    In sweeter bondage? Trust me---you know not
    The worth of smiles like hers, to deem them fit
    For every eye to share!
    Say, gentle lady---would you join the dance?
Teresa
    The dance? No---no!---My lord---I pray your pardon,
    I meant not this abruptness.
Contarini
    As you will!
    You are a queen here, and in queenly right
    You shall control us all; your regal pleasure
    The law that we obey.
Foscarini (aside)
    She does not smile!
    Her falsehood bears with it the sting, remorse!
Contarini
    Would music please my noble bride?
Teresa (aside)
    These lights!
    My brain grows sick beneath their weary glare!
    Leave me, I pray you! Nay---nay---heed me not!
    Let me not mar your mirth!
Contarini
    I will not leave you:
    I am too proud to stand beside you.
Foscarini (in a low tone)
    Aye!
    She may betray you too!
Teresa (aside)
    That voice---that voice!
    I cannot 'scape it! Strange---my haunting fancies
    Should thus take form, to syllable reproaches
    I ever hear within!
Doge
    What ails the lady?'
Teresa (aside)
    They must be silenced---for I may not hear
    Their tauntings now!'
Matilda
    Teresa! you are pale
    And discomposed:---this night's fatigue had been
    O'er harassing.
Teresa
    Yes---yes---
Contarini
    Wine will restore her---
Teresa
    You are mistaken;
    I am not ill!
Contarini
    Take it---fair lady---
Foscarini (snatches another cup and advances)
    Hold!
    I claim a right to pledge your lovely bride!
    I---humblest of her slaves! Lady! I drink
    Long life to you---and happiness---such as
    Your truth deserves! Could man e'er wish you more?
Teresa
    'Tis he. Oh God! (faints)
[ Foscarini retires.
Contarini
    Teresa!
Veniero
    She has swooned! my daughter! Help!
(They raise her---she revives---but still appears unconscious)
Teresa (wildly)
    Accuse me not! accuse me not! Oh no!
    I did not wrong thee! I have borne the wrong!
    Didst thou but know the misery that has dragged me,
    Despite of all thy love to bear me up,
    Down, down, to this! thou wouldst not, couldst not scorn me!
    Judge me not here!
Contarini
    Who was't disturbed you,---say?
Teresa (recovering)
    Ha!
Contarini
    Who was it dared intrude, to move you thus?
    Reveal his name, and instant punishment
    Shall overtake the wretch!
Teresa (eagerly detaining him)
    Oh, no---no---no!
Contarini
    Detain me not! let me but find him!
Teresa
    Hold!
    What would you do? what have I said? 'Twas nothing---
    Indeed---'Twas nothing!
Contarini
    Tell me---whose the voice
    That frighted you?
Teresa
    No voice! Move not---I pray you!
    It was an idle fancy.---Did I say
    Some one had spoken to me?---'Twas not so!
    My brain hath coined strange tales! 'Tis cause for mirth
    That I should think such things.
Contarini
    Such eagerness
    To screen the offender------
Teresa
    My lord! I am ashamed
    To have disturbed this noble company
    With such absurd, strange weakness. I beseech you
    Let me retire awhile!
Veniero
    Go.
[ Exeunt Teresa, Matilda and attendants.