Yolanda of Cyprus. Rice Cale Young
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whether desire, and unsubduable,
To see Amaury sceptred – I care not.
[To Smarda.
Slave, to your lady who awaits me, say
I'm here and now have chosen.
Moro. Do not!
Renier. Chosen.
[Smarda goes.
None can be great who will not hush his heart
To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.
He is Lusignan and his lineage
Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.
Moro. It will not.
Renier. Then at least I shall uncover
What this Venetian hints.
Moro. Sir?
Renier. I must know.
Moro. 'Tis of your wife? – Yolanda?
Renier. Name them not.
They've shut me from their souls.
Moro. My lord, not so;
But you repulse them.
Renier. When they pity. No,
Something has gone from me or never was
Within my breast. I love not – am unlovable.
Amaury is not so.
And this Venetian Vittia Pisani —
Moro. Distrust her!
Renier. She has power.
Moro. But not truth.
And yesterday a holy relic scorned.
Renier. She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will
Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.
The throne, then, but a step.
Moro. But all too great.
And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:
He will not yield her.
Renier. Then he must. And she,
The Venetian, has ways to it – a secret
To wrench her from his arms.
Moro. Sir, sir? – of what?
Renier. I know not, of some shame.
Moro. Shame!
Renier. Why do you clutch me?
Moro. I – am a priest – and shame —
Renier. You show suspicions.
[Vittia enters unnoted.
Of whom? – Of whom, and what?
Vittia (lightly). My lord, of women.
[Renier starts and turns.
So does the Holy Church instil him.
Renier. You
Come softly, lady of Venice.
Vittia. Streets of sea
In Venice teach us.
Renier. Of what women, then?
My wife? Yolanda?
Vittia. By the freedom due us,
What matters it? In Venice our lords know
That beauty has no master.
Renier. Has no… That,
That too has something hid.
Vittia. Suspicious lord!
Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!
And soon Yolanda – But for that I'm here.
You sent for me.
Renier (sullen). I sent.
Vittia. To say you've chosen?
And offer me irrevocable aid
To win Amaury?
Renier. All is vain in me
Before the fever for it.
Vittia. Then, I shall.
It must be done. My want is unafraid.
Hourly I am expecting out of Venice
Letters of power.
And what to you I pledge is he shall be
Ruler of Cyprus and these Mediterranean
Blue seas that rock ever against its coast.
That do I pledge … but more.
Renier. Of rule?.. Then what?
Vittia (going up to him). Of shame withheld – dishonor unrevealed.
[As he recoils.
Hush! there are steps.
[The slave re-enters.
Smarda?
Smarda (quickly). My lady!
Vittia. Speak.
Smarda. I've erred; she's not asleep.
Vittia. Who? – Ah! Yolanda?
Smarda. Yes; she is coming!
Renier. Ha!
Vittia. My lord – !
Renier. I'll stay,
Stay and confront her.
Vittia. Ignorantly? No.
Renier. I'll question her.
Vittia. Blindly, and peril all?
Renier. I will return. You put me off, and off.
[By the loggia, with Moro, he goes; the slave slips out. Yolanda enters, sadly, her gaze on the floor. She walks slowly, but becoming conscious starts, sees Vittia, and turns to withdraw.
Vittia. Your pardon —
Yolanda. I can serve you?
Vittia. If you seek
The women, they are gone.
Yolanda. I do not seek them.
Vittia. Nor me?
Yolanda. Nor any. – Yet I would I might
With seeking penetrate the labyrinth
Of your intent.
Vittia. I thank you. And you shall,
To-night – if you have love.
Yolanda. That thread were vain.
Vittia. I say, if you have love.
Yolanda. Of guile?
Vittia. Of her
You hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.
Yolanda. Were it so simple, all designs that ever
Laired in you, would to my eyes have been as clear
As shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.
Vittia. Unproven you speak so.
Yolanda. And proven would.
Vittia. If so, then – save her.
Yolanda. Who? What do you – ? (stops).
Vittia (with irony). Mean?
It is not clear?
Yolanda. Save her?
Vittia. The surety flies
Out