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[The bell strikes again, and she covers her ears

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'Tis no dream!-now I know-yes-yes-I know
These be the councillors-and you are Sforza,
And that's Rossano-and I killed my brother
To make you duke!

O God! O God!

Yes, yes! I see it all!

[She covers her face, and weeps.

Sfor. My lords, her reason rallies

Little by little.

With this flood of tears,

Her brain's relieved, and she'll give over raving.

My wife! Bianca! If thou ever lovedst me,
Look on my face!

· Bian. O Sforza! I have given,

For thy dear love, the eyes I had to see it,
The ears to hear it. I have broke my heart
In reaching for't!

Sfor. Ay-but 'tis thine now, sweet one!

The life-drops in my heart are less dear to me.

Bian. Too late! You've crushed the light out of a gem

You did not know the price of.

Had you spoken

But one kind word upon my bridal night!—

Sfor. Forgive me, my Bianca!

Bian. I am parched

With thirst now, and my eyes grow faint and dim.

Are you here, Sforza ?

Mourn not for me long,

[Starts from him.

But bury me with Giulio!

His voice now!

Jut over hell?

Hark! I hear

Do the walls of Paradise
I heard his voice, I say!

[Strikes off SFORZA, who approaches her.

Unhand me, devil! You've the shape of one

Who upon earth had no heart! Can you take
No shape but that? Can you not look like Giulio?

[SFORZA falls back, struck with remorse.

Hark! 'tis his low, imploring voice again:

He prays for poor

The portals stir!

Bianca! And look—see you!

Slow, slow-and difficult

[Creeps forward, with her eyes upward

Pray on, my brother! Pray on, Giulio!

I come! [Falls on her face.—SFORza drops on his knee, pale and trembling

Sfor. My soul shrinks with unnatural fear !

What heard I then? “Sforza, give up thy sword!”
Was it from heaven, or hell?

[Shrinks as if from some spectre in the air.

I will! I will!

[Holds out his sword, as if to the Monk; and SARPELLIONE, who has been straining forward to watch BIANCA, springs suddenly to her side.

Sar. She's dead! Ha! ha!-who's duke in Milan [SFORZA rises with a bound.

now?

Sfor. Sforza! [He flies to the window, and waves the handkerchief. The bell peals out, and, as he rushes to BIANCA, she moves, lifts her head, looks wildly around, and struggles to her feet. ROSSANO gives her the crown; she looks an instant smilingly on Sforza, and with a difficult but calm effort places it on his head. All drop on one knee, to do allegiance; and, as SFORZA lifts himself to his loftiest height, with a look of triumph at SARPELLIONE, BIANCA sinks dead at his feet. Curtain falls.

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TORTESA, a rich Usurer, is about to wed ISABELLA, the Daughter of COUNT FALCONE, who is deeply indebted to TORTESA. The Duchess of Florence is desirous of having the Portrait of ISABELLA painted by ANGELO, a young Artist. ANGELO goes to the Palace of FALCONE to execute the commission intrusted to him.

SCENE III.-An Apartment in the FALCONE Palace.-ANGELO discovered listening.

Angelo. Did I hear footsteps? [He listens.] Fancy plays me tricks

In my impatience for this lovely wonder!

That window's to the north! The light falls cool.
I'll set my easel here, and sketch her.---Stay!
How shall I do that? Is she proud or sweet?
Will she sit silent, or converse and smile!
Will she be vexed or pleased to have a stranger
Pry through her beauty for the soul that's in it?
Nay, then I heard a footstep-she is here!

Enter ISABELLA, reading her Father's missive. Isabella. "The duke would have your picture for the duchess

Done by this rude man, Angelo. Receive him

With modest privacy, and let your kindness

Be measured by his merit, not his garb."

Ang. Fair lady!

Isa. Who speaks ?

Ang. Angelo!

Isa. You've come, Sir,

To paint a dull face, trust me.

Ang. [Aside.] Beautiful, Beyond all dreaming!

Isa. I've no smiles to show you,

Not even a mock one. Shall I sit?

Ang. No, lady;

I'll steal your beauty while you move, as well;

So you
but breathe, the air still brings to me
That which outdoes all pencilling.

Isa. [Walking apart.] His voice

Is not a rude one. What a fate is mine,

When even the chance words on a poor youth's tongue, Contrasted with the voice which I should love,

Seem rich and musical!

Ang. [To himself as he draws.] How like a swan, Drooping his small head to a lily-cup,

She curves that neck of pliant ivory!
I'll paint her thus !

Isa. [Aside.] Forgetful where he is,

He thinks aloud. This is, perhaps, the rudeness
My father feared might anger me.

Ang. What colour

Can match the clear red of those glorious lips?

Say it were possible to trace the arches,

Shaped like the drawn bow of the god of love-
How tint them, after?

Isa. Still, he thinks not of me,

But murmurs to his picture.

"Twere sweet praise,

Were it a lover whispering it. I'll listen,

As I walk, still.

Ang. They say, a cloudy veil

Hangs ever at the crystal gate of heaven,
To bar the issue of its blinding glory.
So droop those silken lashes to an eye
Mortal could never paint!

Isa. There's flattery,

Would draw down angels!

Ang. Now, what alchemy

Can mock the rose and lily of her cheek?

I must look closer on't! [Advancing.] Fair lady, please you, I'll venture to your side.

Isa. Sir!

Ang. [Examining her cheek.] There's a mixture
Of white and red here, that defeats my skill.

If you'll forgive me, I'll observe an instant,
How the bright blood and the transparent pearl
Melt to each other.

Isa. [Receding from him.] You're too free, Sir.
Ang. [With surprise.] Madam!

Isa. [Aside.] And yet, I think not so. He must look on it,

To paint it well.

Ang. Lady! the daylight's precious:

Pray you, turn to me. In my study, here,
I've tried to fancy how that ivory shoulder
Leads the white light off from your arching neck,
But cannot, for the envious sleeve that hides it.
Please you, displace it.

[Raises his hand to the sleeve.

Isa. Sir, you are too bold!

Ang. Pardon me, lady! Nature's masterpiece

Should be beyond your hiding, or my praise.

Were you

less marvellous, I were too bold;

But there's a pure divinity in beauty,

Which the true eye of Art looks on with reverence,

Though, like the angels, it were all unclad!

You have no right to hide it.

Isa. How! No right?

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