A Monologue by Lucio, to Barbara of Austria, as she lies sleeping:
upon your pillow, still, and lighted by
the flatt’ring moon. Could I but capture your
pale countenance! Tush! Soon there’ll be time for
5 such business, Lucio. You look upon
a future murdered duchess, like she on
the wall—behind the curtain. Yet you know
this duchess. Who will now call Lucio
a pawn, a minion? None! For he is part
10 of what will surely be proclaimed great art
within Ferrara’s halls. But hush! She stirs!
Sweet Barbara, do you wake? Love, it occurs
to me: Our scheme succeeds, in part, because
your father, not as young as once he was,
15 no longer can produce a male heir
of his own body—When you toss your hair
that way! Dear Barbara! In the moonlight you
are lovelier than—I have wondered, too,
will I, unlucky, share your father’s fate?
20 Will our son ne’er be born because we wait
too long in fear. Ferrara’s but a—Oh!
Your lips, so full, as is the moon!—I know
we planned to have our child after a time
had passed, for caution’s sake, but I’m
25 afraid we’ll wait too long. I know you miss
my touch. You’ve told me so. Then come and kiss
me. Brush your lips against my own, and fall
into my arms. Love, let me hold you. Call
me secret names, those whispered in the dark
30 that others do not know. For Barbara mark
me: Love, however strong, can, like the moon,
soon vanish. In a mere month! Yes, so soon!
Immortalize our love, then, and conceive
Ferrara’s heir tonight. All will believe
35 the child legitimate. For you will wed
your groom within the month and share his bed,
his close embrace. What? Truly can your fear
discovery? Why what could happen, dear?
Would e’en Ferrara kill his second bride
40 and face the certain scandal? Dare he hide
suspicions of your infidelity
until he gathered up sufficiently
condemning evidence? Sweet Barbara, no.
How fanciful a fear! You will not show
45 until you have been married half a year!
By then he will have hired a sonneteer,
an artist, and a choir to celebrate
your beauty. Certain, love he will create
an artwork in your honor. Will he then
50 dishonor you, proclaim before all men
who visit him within his art-lined hall,
“That’s my last Duchess, painted on the wall
the mistress of a man named Lucio.
Their story is one that you all should know”?
55 Fear not! Instead be glad that such a one
as he will not be father to your son.
2003
By Sarah Jett
