P s £z5fU '§m^^mw^-^^^^^^^^w^^^^^w f^ Library of Congress ^ i^"9'^lT,^'^ STATES OF AMERICA, The tatre af a Caliban, THE LOVE OF A CALIBAN : A Romantic Opera in One Act. By ELIA W. PEATTIE. Published at Wausau. Wisconsin, By VAN VECHTEN 6 ELLIS. in January, MDCCCXCVIII. TwoenpiKWcttvi QUU COH/, 52?i3 COPYRIGHTED. 1898. By VAN VECHTEN 6 ELLIS. All Dfam«tic Rights Reierved, Of this edition of The Love of a Caliban, but three hundred copies were made, and of them this is No. THE LOVE OF A CALIBAN, A Romantic Opera in One Act, CHARACTERS, The Lord Pietro, Doge of Venice / The Lord Ascanio, Suitor to Lucreziaf Massimilliano, Jester to Pietro i The Lady Lucrezia, Daughter to Pietro / The Lady Marguerita, Companion to Lucrezia^ SCENE? Venice, in the XVth Century, NOTE. ITHOUT doubt, the success of this little opera would depend upon two things { first, the beauty of the melody of Massimilliano's song, which should run through overture, interlude and finale, and which should be at once passionate and delicate in its character, and second, the ability of the singer playing Massimilliano to act well. He should be a good comedian, and his actions throughout the opera should be grotesque and absurd, never conveying a hint of the pride and ambition, not to say the suffering, which he finally shows in the last scene. He should be capable, during the last scene, between his entrance and his tragic moment, of diverting the audience with comical tricks, which must be the outcome of his person^ ality, and can not well be set down for an actor. The lines might have been written in rhyme, but it seemed better and more natural to put most of them in rhythm. SCENE FIRST. A lady's luxurious boadoir. with a very wide md deep window at the rear, showing a vi;w of the Grand Canal at night, with lights on it. The boudoir has many flowers in it. and palms, and statues, but no pidures. Couches, silken pillows, low chairs, mirrors, rugs and draperies of rich colors make op the furnishings. The room is lit — ostensibly — by lamps of antique and curious shapes which stand upon the tables and the floor. The stage is vacant upon the rising of the curiam. From without comes the splash of water from a passing gondola, and a gondolier's voice is hc^d singing ; OU can tell by the moon when the stortn will ^ *\^ L,3UB rise) I You can read her mood in my lady's eye& My lady hath less love than hate. But I like a stormy sea — eh, mate? A wind that wails and a sea that pounds — Eh, mate ? A surf that thunders and drowns I Aye mate ! And I love a lady's hate. The song becomes fainter at each line, ind is nevei loud. It dies away. Voices arc heard without on the Canal, accompanied by the splashing of water. First Voice f The moon docs not rise till late tO''night Second Voice i It's black enough now for the Devil to be abroad without being recognized. First Voice ; Why art thou always thinking of the Devil? Second Voice / By StPctcr, neighbour, it is only when I am with thee ( It is not necessary that these remarks should be intelli- gible upon the stage, and, indeed it will be better ii they are not. But the usual "murmur" of the stage is too obviously not conversation. Therefore it is always better to say adtual words, though the import a not heard. A short silence. A Cry Out on the Canal', Whither away! Enter the Lady MargucfitJu Slo^* : XXI ©f Jt OTalTlmn Df H Caliban jj HE flowers he gave me are faded and deadj So I pluck no roses a* gleam with the dew, For he lies out there in his ocean bed, And I wear the dead flowers for my lover true. Eater Lord Pietro. Pie t to I Art thou alone? Pray tell me where my daughter is. Marguerite} Most excellent Signor, I do await her here myself. Plctro! I have not seen her since last night. I think, Marguerita, that my daughter broods on something she does not tell me oi, Marguerita I Dost think, my lord, she hath a grief? Pteirof I fear 'tis so. Can you not persuade her to con.* fide her grief to you? Marguerita I She wraps herself in silence like a cloak Pietroi Aye, so she does. But any woman baffles me, I understand the way to guide a state. But the more I study women the less I know of them, . Margueritai Here comes Lucfczia, Lu^rc^ia caters, crosses to her father, kisses his hand and tocchcs her friend m a friendly way in passing. Her manner is dignified and stately. She has no qoick move- ments. There is nothing coquettish about her. xxu Pietrot Where hast thou been my child? How hast "^ *^ J^^OllB thou spent the day? ®f a (Ealiban Lucrezhf In longing for the night. Pietro/ Why should s't thou weary for the night? I thought youth loved the day. Lucrezia: And so it may. But melancholy thoughts thrive best at night P/e fro,' Thought! Thou talkest like a professor more than a woman. At thine age I concerned myself much more with action than with thought, Lucrczidi Action? I am a woman! I can do nothing for the world. Marguerita) You make it more beautiful, Pietrof Care you nothing for that? I heard you say one day you were content to live only to see how beautiful the world could grow, Lucrezidi Did I say so? Why yes, beauty I know is the sole medium for truth. At least for truth that can appeal to me. I know not right from wrong myself. These things may change. But beauty I do know. It comes from heaven. And nothing can be good which is not beautiful During the last sentence Massimilliano cntcfi and standi unobserved. He is much stooped, with a hrge head hanging almost on his breast. His face is distorted, he limps, and has a furtive way of lifting his eyes. He comes forward lau?lnng hirshlv. XXIU [l\t U>fX}Xt Massimilliano I How, then, must the noble lady admire Df ^ (Ediban ^^, SSi btigh indulgently. Pietrof Thou handsome fellow! Dost thou never knock 1 Hast leave to enter a lady's room in this fashion 1 Ma^sIniilJwfjo / Dost a dog knock, my lord ? I am refused admittance nowhere — except heaven, Pietro f Then wilt thou also escape the pangs of hell. If thou hast no privilege thou wilt have no punishment. Massitnilliano / Is it so ? Then divine law is different from human. For we have no rewards for virtue although we have grim punishment for vice, Locrezia throws herself on a cooch and fans herself languidly. Marguerita sits beside her. Lucrezh/ Waste no words on this rattler, I beg. He has stood too long in the sun and turned sour, MassimilUdno / My lady is the sun of Venice. How should her favour turn me sour ? Pietro } Enough, fool Lucrezia, I bring thee here tO'^ight, the Lord Ascanio, He has come to ask me for thy hand. What answer wilt thou give? Massimilliano has been lying upon the floor actf Lucrezia. looking at her intently. Now he springs up, seizes a bunch of flowers she has m her hand, and hurls them to the floor. XXIV AUi What is it/ Th^^ ^1X1^ MassimillUnot A tarantula! A tarantula! ®f 9 QIaliban Lucrcziaf Fool! There was no tarantula. Dost caU this a jest? MassImMano/ {Laughing satirically.) Dost the lady think she can see all of the dangers that surround her ? It takes a prophetic eye to do that. Whence came these flowers? Margucritaf From the Lord Ascanio. MassimilUano f \ thought as much. It was a tarantula in the leaves, my lady. Exit Pietro. Msssimilhano sings; ^ E gave her a purse and a noble name; Why does the lady weep so? He gave her land and he gave her famef Why does the lady weep? Highest of all the dames was shej Why does the lady weep so? "The grave is the only place for mej" Thus did the lady weep, Margucritdi Silence! Thou croakcst like a frog. Lucrczu regards the Jester latently end sidly as if his woris disturbed her. She rncs quickly as her father enters accompanied by Lord Ascamo. During the ex- change of salutations. Massimilliano makes a grotesque lanilition of thtm. XXV pKg I 0XtB Massimillianof I beg the pardon of the honorable conv )f a QTHTtbEtX pany. But I can bow no lower. My grace was so great the first time I ever made a salute to a lady that I have never been allowed to rise, Margucrltaf And who was the lady, fool ? Maasimilliano} The only one who knows the value of silence — ^the most prolific of her sex — the mother of us all — Earth, Ascanioi Lady Lucrezia, dost thou know my errand? Lucrezia/ 1 have been told it Lord Ascanio, by my father and I thank thee for the honour bestowed, Massimilliaao to Marguenta /Hovr dry words crackle, Ascanio f Lady, I can not keep from loving thee, U it be an honour it is one I yield perforce, Pietro to Lucreziaf What answer hast thou? Lucrezia t Father, I will tell thee and this gentleman the truth, I have not seen the man I love, Ascanio } Thou sendest me away? Lucrezia f I said not so. Pietro I My child ! Ascanio f Lady Lucrezia! XXVI Lucrczia/ Listen to mc. i think I love, But then i '{'\^> I^qxiC know not whom it is I love, I think that he loves me, Yet ©fa Caliban know I not his name, nor how his face looks« nor his rank or worthiness, Pietrof These riddles are unworthy of my daughter. Lucrezia/ Pardon me, I mean no disrespect to thee nor to this gentle lord, I can not tell thee what I mean — not now, To/morrow night, since thou art pleased to set a fete forth for me in celebration of my natal day, I will unravel this perplexing tangle, if you please. Until then, Lord Ascanio, thy love, if love it be, must wait Ascanio f If love it be Thou canst not doubt my love 7 Lucrezia f How should I know what love is like, my lord? Quintette m which Lucrezia. Marguerita. Pietro and Ascanio sing in harmony, Massimilliano singing in car- icature, his tone and manner at variance with the others, being farcical and bitter. All sing : XXVII OW does love come? Is it with banners? Is he wreathed like a victor with laurel and bay? Massimilliano f Love is blind and he walks this way, ( Groping and limping^ y^ljf Time is a captive lashed to his chariot wheels. MasshnilUanoi And folly comes comes dangling along after his heels. His garments are tinted with purple and rose, And laughter re-echoes wherever he goes. How does love come? Love? Bahl /illf Love comes with banners, MassimilUano} How does love come? Hal hal hal hal Ail I His song is the sweetest the weary world hathi And roses all perfumed, spring up in his path, Massinuliinnoi Love? Hal ha! hal hal xxvm Ascaniof Lady Lucrezia, to-morrow night! {Bowtt Th^ LfilSI: exit) ©f n (Mihm Pietro te Marguetitat Said I not all women were a mystery? {Exit) Matgiieritat Dear Lucrezia, hast prepared for the fete to-morrow night? Lucrezia} I am always prepared for a fete Marguerita, It is only a funeral that would find me unprepared. Massimiiiianos And yet one is sure of funeralsi and never of fetes. Margueritaf With thy permission I will seek my room, May I send thy maid to thee ? Lucrezia f No, no, not now! Go to thy bed dear Mar*- guerita, And sleep a dreamless sleep, Massimilliano ; Lady, pray let her dream while she is sleeping if she can. She hath not wit enough to dream wak^ ing dreams. Marguerite} Lucrezia, thou givest that fellow too much liberty, Good/^ight Exit. Lucrezia throws hcrscU upon the so^a, vith hef (cct still touching the floor. Massimilliano sits upon th( floor at her feet- XXIX ?llt LtnJB Massimillianoi Princes have been here before me, Of a (Ealtiian Lucreziai A prince is no more than any other man, good fooL He has but two eyes, a mouth, two ears and a tongue. It is no argument to me to call a man a prince, Massimillianoi Lady dost ever go to confession? Lucreziaf Faithfully, Why dost thou ask? Massimilliano} I thought that if the lady did not I would ask her to take me for a father confessor, Lucreziaf Dost think I could get good advice from thee? MassitnilUano f The lady could get something better. She could get allegories, I noticed a while ago that she was interested in allegories, Lucreziaf I have a question to ask thee, wiseacre. Which is the most precious of our senses? That which lets us see, taste, hear, smell or touch? Massiwillianof Surely, that which lets us see the faces of our enemies, Lucreziaf I should have said myself that I would rather lose any dear sense I have than that of sight. But listen, fool. Hearing is the most precious thing we have, ' T is sound alone that can transport the soul beyond mere earthly things and fill it with a sense ineffable, Massimillianof Why dost the lady say this? Locrezia leans forward, and idly picks up the fool's bells toying vith them as she talks. XXX Lucrcziai Because a voice alone hath taught me how to Th^ l-jOU^ feel Fool, tho' thou gibest, thou art a true friend of mine. 0f 3 QTaltliatl So I will tell to thee a secret on which my soul feeds night and day. And thou shalt tell me what to do. Listen — night after night, for all the summer past, below my window, hid/' den in the shade, there sings a voice, Man there may be with it, but never have I laid one glance on him, Massimilluno falls forward on the floor, resting hu head upon hi5 bandi and looking at her covertly. Massimillianof The voice— what was it like? Lucreziaf What is it like? Like the dear echo of my secret soul ! Massimtlliano looks straight at her for a moment, and then borsts into a £t of laughter. Suddenly he stops, and looking at her angtily. snatches the bells from her. Massimillianof Give me my bells I I have nothing but my fcolcraft! "Wilt thou take that from me? Thou hast no right to come to me for aught but folly, A friend of thine? Not so, I am the fool. He starts to go oxxX. then return*. Massimillianof And so the voice was like the echo of thy secret soul? Bonis into another 6t of laoghtcr and exits, singing •• How does love come ? Love ! Bah f " Lucrezia sits still for a few moments. From out on the Canal come voices and the splashing of water. XXXI ^^t tJiXl.t Fifst Voices The palace is dark, )f E QTalibEtt Second Voice f All but the light in the Lady Lucrezia's window. First Voice / She has a fete tO'^morrow given for her birthday by the Doge, Second Voice! They say she is to wear the family jewels, ' T will be the first time that they have been worn since she was born. Their sparkle has been hidden in the iron coffers of the Doge, Lttcrezu arises and paces the loot with her head la an attitode of thought. She goes to the window and looks out. Silefice for a few seconds. Lucreziai This silence is a bubble I would burst. Where is the voice? When will he come? The day has seemed so long. Foolish maid to live but for a voice ( xxxu HEN of war it sings, ,,,, ♦ I feel my spirit swell, ^3 j ^ q;. | • ^.^^^ And in my sense there rings The awful din of war's relentless hclli Hero am I, and unafraid of death } And life a thistle, to be blown with idle breath. Of love it sings, And then myself I yield To fancies light as wings Of butterflies in summcr/flowcrcd field j And sweet as honey that the wild bee sips, Are fancied kisses raining on my lips. She pauses and Ii^tcas. Tiicfc is a slight uuisc uudcr the vindow. and Massimilliano sings : xxxm Pietrof I greet yoa with all courtesy. The occasion is '^^h^ LOUF auspicious, and cchbrates a joyous day. For now my fflf H (Halttatl daughter enters into her estate, full mistress of herself, a woman now, and done with all the chaste seclusion of a maid, ChoruBf— NCHANTED arc the fields a maiden walks, There Cupid's poppies grow and scatter sleep* Youth plucks the thorns from off the roses' stalks, And sweet illusions all the senses steep, And now from out these pleasure-^haunted fieldsi Our lady comes with shy yet stately tread, "What can we else but full allegiance yield To womanhood's sweet crown upon her head? After the smgmg of the chorus, which occupies several minutes, a part of the company form for the dancing of the Saraband. The musicians appear upon the stage, and Mas- similliano emerges from a bass viol. Throughout the dance Be indulges in grotesque mimicry. This stately dance pro- ceeds with approporate orchestration, and at its conclusion a train of maidens enter, dressed in white, and carrying many flowers, accompanying the Lady Lucrezia, who is dressed in white satin embroidered in gold, with girdle and coronet of jewels. The Doge descends and leads her to the chair beside his own. The maidens group themselves about her. During the singing of the following chorus, as well as the preceding one. the singers should stand in casual and natural groups, and not as choruses usually do. It may be necessary for the various parts to be in proximity, but they need not to be in rows. XXXVU !'h^ t^tXyXt Chorus f-- )f U Ctolihan j^^^S^^ OMANHOOD won is a fair crown of glory, In reverent joy will we chant its praise. Oh! still may it be the chief charm of story j Still fire the theme of the poet's lays, Ltjctczi§j I thank you for your greeting. Yes, sweet is womanhood, sweet its knowledge, sweet its friendships, and sweet its very griefs. Sweet too, its love, which is both joy and grief. And here to/night, I come to test the meaning of that love, half^known to me, and dimly understood, Fietto^ My daughter, what dost thou mean? I can not guess the import of thy words, Lucreziaf Fear not my father, that I will do aught to shame these guests or thee, Piettoi Speak on. Explain the meaning. xxxvni UT this I mean. I pray of htm, ©f ^ mUmtX Who nightly sings his songs to mc, Beneath my window's shaded rim, I To tell his name and his degree, Never had maid a tale so strange, Never did maid make such a choice, For though my heart can never change, Yet that I love is but a voice, And if among these gentle lords, There any be my hand would plight. Whose singing with my heart accords. Then he may have my troth to-night, Ascdniof My lady, thou playest me false! Had I not thy » promise for to-night? Wert thou not to give me my answer? LucrczUf It is given. If thou cans't prove to me that thou art he who nightly sings when all the rest arc still, and who awakens my dull heart to happiness and life, then I am thine, Ascanio, to the end, XXXIX \t L0tJ0 Aseaniof I do not think thou makest honorable answer, " U (SLulxhViXX Lucrcziai Yet if thou provest the voice is thine, I will make thee an honorable wife, Ascanio, There is a pause, Marguentat No one comes to joust in this strange tournament Pietret Are there none here who dare lay claim to be singers? Luerezia (sadly,) Many there be here who can sing. But which of them can sing my soul away? Massifflilliano has been sitting on the steps of the dais, smirking and whispering with the coortiers. While Luerezia sang he lay fiat, playing softly with his bells, and looking at them as if he were conscious of nothing else. Now suddenly, he springs before the dais, flings away his bells, and cries : MassitnilUanot The voice is mine, All laugh in derision. Luerezia looks at him angrily. Luerezia $ I'll not forgive thee for a jest to/night Bc^ gone, friend fooll Another time 111 listen to thy pranks* Some one tries to drag him away. He fling them off, throws his cap in the face of Ascanio, and sings : xxxx 'M but a voice to thee! ^j^ ^^^ I 'm but a voice to thee! ©f g dfeKban Out from the vast of the deep, And down from the vast of the sky, I fling my cry, Through the chambers of sleep. Oh! wake and hear, for love has come late. Time is old and the world is grey. Under thy window I stand and wait, Anear thee, love, till the dawn of day. The perfumed breath from the roses blown Is the incense I burn wherever thou art I have made the voice of the winds my own. And the stars of the sky arc the eyes of my heart. The company stands spellbound lo the end. At first Locrezia looks at him incredulously. Then a look of hor* ror overspreads her face. She covers it with a silken scarf hanging from her gridle. Massimilliano ceases his song, stares at her in doubt as to the nature of her emotion, rushes up and tears the scarf from her face, and seeing there only hauteor and shame, reels back. A moment later the lords surge toward him. as if they would run him through. Massimilliano stcs them, laughs and waves them back, darts forward, kisses Lucrezia upon the neck, and drawing a stil letto from his belt, plunges it into hi.s heart. XXX3CI X> And here, then, cndcth the tale of the love of Massimilliano, the Fool, as set forth in rhyme & rhythm JSC by Elia W, Peattie, and made into this book AI at the Philoso^ phcr Press A) which is in Wausau, A^ A Wisconsin, A seen through the press by A Helen Bruneau Van Vechtcn X> and finished this twenty^ninth day of January MDCCCXCVIIl AAA LIBRARY OF CONGRESS liiillllililljilllllllll 018 349 337 1/