HaeMON: Then yield it us at once, Our mood is so.

BARDAS: Haemon, I love your sister.

Not love: I am idolatrous before Her foot's least print, and cannot breathe or pray But where she's sometime been and left a heaven!

HaeMON: Therefore you'll cry it maudlin at the streets?

BARDAS: Necessity's not over delicate.

Antonio, sue for me. You have been apt In all love's skill they say. My oath on it Your words once sown upon her listening Would not lie fruitless did they bid her yield More than her most.

HaeMON: Bardas! Do you--Does such Unseemliness run in your thought?

BARDAS: Peace, Haemon.

Antonio, speak.

ANTONIO: You're strange in this request.

Helena, whom I've seen, would little thank The eyes that told her own where they should love.

BARDAS: I saved your life, my lord.

ANTONIO: And I've besought Occasion oft for loaning of some chance Worthily to repay you. If 'tis this, I am distrest. I cannot plead your suit.

BARDAS: You cannot or you will not?

ANTONIO: I have said.

Ask me for service on your foes, for gold, Faith or devotion, friendship you're aloof to, For all that will and honor well may render With nicety, and I'll be wings and heart, More--drudge to your desire.

HaeMON: n.o.bly, my lord!

Bardas, you must atone----

BARDAS: Peace, Haemon.

HaeMON: Peace Is goad and gall! Why do you burn my cheek With this indignity?

BARDAS: Do you ask why? (_to ANTONIO._) A little since one of your father's guard Gave his command in seal to Helena Upon the streets, to instantly repair Unto his halls--which she must henceforth _honor_.

You knew it not?

ANTONIO: My father?

BARDAS: O, well feigned.

Be sure none will suspect he is too old For knightly feat like this--and that he has A son!

ANTONIO: To Helena! my father! sealed!

HaeMON: Bardas, you bring the truth?--And so, my lord, You stab me through another--you, my _friend_?

ANTONIO (_to BARDAS_): Do you mean that----?

BARDAS: Until this hour I held The race of Charles di Tocca bold, or other But empty of all lies in deed or speech, It grows--a little low?

ANTONIO: Why you are mad!

Are mad! I'm naked of this thing, and hide No guilt behind the wonder of my face.

For Paradises br.i.m.m.i.n.g with all Beauty I would not lay one fancy's weight of shame On her you name!

BARDAS: A pretty protest--but A breath too heavenly.

ANTONIO: Leave sneering there!

You have repaid yourself--cast on me words Intolerable more than loss of life.

You both shall learn this night's entangling.

But know, between her, Helena, and shame I burn with flaming heart and fearless hand!

(_Goes angrily._

HaeMON: He can be false and wear this mien of truth?

BARDAS: I'll not believe!

HaeMON: But, what: my sister seized?

BARDAS: Ah, what!--"He burns with flaming heart!"--have we No flesh to understand this pa.s.sion then?

Bound to the wings of wide ambition he Will choose undowered worth?--To the ordeal Of mere suspicion's flaming I'd not trust The fairness of his name; but doubts in me Are sunk with proofs.

HaeMON: No, no!

BARDAS: Unyielding.

HaeMON: Proof?

He could not. No! he dare not!

BARDAS: Yet the rogue Cecco, the duke's half-seneschal, half-spy, I pa.s.sed upon the streets o'ermuch in wine, Leaning upon a tipsier jade and spouting With drunken mockery,

"'Sweet Helena! Fair Helena!' Pluck me, wench, but the lord Antonio knows sound nuts! And sly! Why hear you now! he gets the duke to seize on the maid! The fox! The rat! Have I not heard him in his chamber these thirty nights puff her name out his window with as many honeyed drawls of pa.s.sion as--as--as--June has buds? 'Sweet Helena!'--la! 'Fair Helena!'--O! 'Dear Helena! my rose! my queen!

my sun and moon and stars! Thy kiss is still at my lips, thy breast beats still on mine! my Helena!'--Um! Oh, 'tmust be a rare damsel.

I'll make a sluice between her purse and mine, wench; do you hear?"

HaeMON: Well--well?

BARDAS: No more. When I had struck him down, He swore it was unswerving all and truth.

Hasting to warn I found Helena ta'en And sought you here.

HaeMON (_grasping his brows_): Ah!

BARDAS: Helena who is All purity!

HaeMON: Ah sister, child!--Have I With strength been father and with tenderness A mother been to her unfolding years But to see now unchastest cruelty Pluck her white bloom to ease his idle sense One fragrant hour?--If it be so, no flowers Should blossom; only weeds whose withering Can hurt no heart!

BARDAS: These tears should seal fierce oaths Against him!

HaeMON: And they shall! until G.o.d wrecks Him in the tempest raised of his outrage!