FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160  
161   162   163   164   165   166   >>  
l await me in our garden. Oh, for a word, a pressure of the hand! I fly, my prince, at thy most dear behest! [Exit.] SCENE II. A room in DON TOMMASO'S HOUSE. DON TOMMASO and ANNICCA. DON TOMMASO. Truly, you wrong your sister; she is young, Heedless, and wilful, that is all; a touch Of the Ribera's spirit fired the lass. Don John was but her weapon of revenge Against the malice of our haughty matrons, Who hurled this icy shafts of scorn from heights Of dignity upon the artist's daughter. ANNICCA. I cannot think with you. In her demeanor, Her kindled cheek, her melting eye, was more Than sly revenge or cautious policy. If that was art, it overreached itself. Ere the night ended, I had blushed to see Slighting regards cast on my father's child, And hear her name and his tossed lightly round. DON TOMMASO. Could you not read in such disparagement The envy of small natures? ANNICCA. I had as lief Maria were to dance the tarantella Upon the quay at noonday, as to see her Gazed at again with such insulting homage. DON TOMMASO. You are too strict; your baseless apprehensions Wrong her far more than strangers' jests. ANNICCA. Not so; My timely fears prevent a greater ill And work no harm, since they shall be imparted Only to him who hath the power to quell them, Dissolving them to air--my father. DON TOMMASO. How! You surely will not rouse his fatal wrath? Annicca, listen: if your doubts were true, He whose fierce love guards her with sleepless eyes, More like the passion of some wild, dumb creature, With prowling jealousy and deadly spring, Forth leaping at the first approach of ill, Than the calm tenderness of human fathers; He surely had been keen to scent the danger. I saw him at the ball--as is his wont, He mingled not among the revellers, But like her shadow played the spy on her. ANNICCA. A word would stir less deeply than you dread. DON TOMMASO. Ah, there you err; he knows no middle term. At once he would accept as fact the worst Of your imaginings; his rage would smite All near him, and rebound upon himself; For, as I learn, Don John br
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160  
161   162   163   164   165   166   >>  



Top keywords:

TOMMASO

 

ANNICCA

 

surely

 

revenge

 

father

 

sleepless

 

Annicca

 
strangers
 

doubts

 

listen


fierce
 

guards

 

greater

 

prevent

 
imparted
 
Dissolving
 

timely

 

leaping

 

middle

 

played


deeply

 

accept

 

rebound

 

imaginings

 
shadow
 

deadly

 

jealousy

 
spring
 

approach

 

prowling


passion

 

creature

 

tenderness

 

mingled

 

revellers

 

danger

 

fathers

 

natures

 
Against
 

weapon


malice

 

haughty

 

matrons

 

Ribera

 

spirit

 

hurled

 

artist

 

dignity

 
daughter
 

heights