University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

[The Piazza della Signoria: the main entrance to the Palazzo Pubblico at the back of the stage, and the Loggia de' Lanzi on the right.]
Spini, Soderini, Cei, Compagnacci.
SPINI.
I tell you what, my comrades, you must work.
There's little to be earned by merriment,
Since great Lorenzo died.

FIRST COMPAGNACCIO.
Work! I'll not work:
It is a turnspit's task.

SODERINI.
Faith! then you'll starve:
A leaner task than turning any spit.

SECOND COMP.
Wait till the French King comes. I wager, then
There will be food for fooling.

CEI.
Fools for food,
Will prove more like. Which of you has not heard
His infantry in fight not only fell
But slay their enemies?

FIRST COMP.
Uncivil boors!
They will learn gentler ways in Tuscany.

SPINI.
They're mighty slow at learning, then. The blood
Shed at Rappallo was but Magra's stream
Compared to Arno's, with the torrents loosed
At Fivizzano.

SECOND COMP.
Why, they're monsters!

SODERINI.
Ay,
Monsters in stature, appetite, and lust.
They ravish first, and rifle afterwards.
Upon the hale they wreak their savagery,
Then fall on the unarmed. They covet blood,
But ransom more. Your jewels, caskets, gems,
Velvets, embroideries, satins, silks, brocades,
All to their gullet stands for provender.
They think the stones of Italy, if sucked,
Will yield them oil; so meagre is their land,
So fat is ours.

CEI.
Neither do courteous wiles
Disarm their greed. When Blanche of Montferrat,
Wearing her costliest jewels, on behalf
Of Savoy's Prince, because a minor still,
Proffered a gracious welcome to their King,
He took the precious gewgaws from her neck,
And for ten thousand ducats pawned them straight.

FIRST COMP.
I've got no jewels.

SPINI.
But you've got a neck;
And, failing necklaces, your neck will serve.

SECOND COMP.
Zounds! that it will.

SODERINI.
I know Rappallo well,
Perched on the lap of olive-crested gorge,
And safely smiling at the smiling sea,
Till these ferocious foragers of death,
With swords for sickles, reaped each standing life,
Ripe or unripe, then gleaned the hospitals
For further slaughter.

FIRST COMP.
But what wants this king
In Italy at all?

CEI.
Why, just what kings,
Since crowns first turned their heads, are wont to want,
A bigger stage to strut on. This one claims
The fief of Naples. Florence has to choose
Whether to show a front or lend a side.

SPINI.
Hither comes one, to tell us more of this,
Marcuccio Salviati, with his kin:
A Piagnone, but an honest man.
How doth the slip of such a sturdy stock
Come to be bent by Frà Girolamo?
[Enter Salviati (right), followed by a number of Piagnoni, all dressed soberly, but some of them, like himself, armed.]
What news, Salviati, of the Commonwealth?

SALVIATI.
The latest, Piero hath betaken him,
With Gianfigliazzo and Giannozzo Pucci,
Unto Sarzana, to the French King's camp,
To sue for terms for Florence.

FIRST PIAGNONE.
Sue for terms!
A pretty suitor; barbarous, uncouth,
His mother's son.

SECOND PIAGNONE.
But half a Florentine:
Expert in midnight broils and secret loves
A hero at pallone, passing on
All serious business to his Chancellor,
Ser Bibbiena.

SODERINI.
Who is there denies
He is not like Lorenzo? 'Twere in vain
You asked the duplicate of such a Prince.
But he's Lorenzo's son, a Medici,
And that's enough. Whom would you have to stand
At top of Florence?

FIRST PIAGNONE.
Better none than he.
Our Frà Girolamo's a likelier man.

FIRST COMP.
Savonarola! A Dominican!

SECOND COMP.
A monk! A vagrant from another world!
The pulpit is his place.

SPINI.
A place from which,
Worse plague upon't! already he directs
The hearts of half of Florence.

SALVIATI.
And ere long
Will guide them all. Pico, Politian,
Each in the garb of Domenick expired,
By him absolved. Say, did he not foretell
That the French King would come, and in the face
Of reputable citizens predict
Death to Lorenzo and Pope Innocent,
And Ferdinand of Naples last of all?
And each is gone.

SODERINI.
A holy prophecy!
That robs us of Lorenzo, and exalts
Roderigo Borgia to St. Peter's Chair,
Thanks to the mule-loads of ill-gotten gold
Into Ascanio Sforza's palace driven
At time of conclave.

FIRST PIAGNONE.
That was not the work
Of Frà Girolamo. But yesterday
He thundered in the pulpit of Saint Mark
'Gainst the election simoniacal
Of the new Pontiff.

SPINI.
Whereby he invents
Fresh enemies for Florence. Pious work!

SALVIATI.
The enemies of Florence are within.
Who is there pleads like Frà Girolamo
For restitution of our ancient rights?

PIAGNONI.
And we will have them.

OTHER PIAGNONI.
Have them, that we will.
Down with the Medici!

[Enter (left) Lorenzo Tornabuoni.]
TORNABUONI.
Down, down, yourselves,
You sniggering whimperers, hangers on the skirt
Of an officious shaveling! Clasp your palms,
And mumble litanies, or flog your flesh!
But dare to meddle with the Commonwealth,
There are who will convince you of your place.

SPINI.
Ay, that there are, and quickly.

[The two parties, the Compagnacci and the Piagnoni, lay their hands on their swords, and assume an attitude of menace towards one another. Salviati, by gesture, seeks to calm the Piagnoni.]
SECOND PIAGNONE.
Heed them not,
Lascivious brawlers! Let us bear their jibes,
And prove our Christian humility.

FIRST COMP.
So very humble: humble as your monk,
Who sets himself above the Signory,
And—

[Enter Savonarola (left), accompanied by Frà Domenico and Frà Silvestro.]
SAVONAROLA.
Brethren! Citizens! Why, what is this!
Is this a time for Pagan acrimony,
When round your city adversaries throng
Dense as lean wolves in wintry Apennine?
Have I not warned you that the Church, and not
The Church alone, but equally the State,
And most this State of Florence, will be scourged,
And renovated next, and that ere long?
Hear yet another vision. In the night
I saw a hand in Heaven, and in the hand
A sword upon whose steel was brightly chased,
“The Sword of the Lord over the earth, swiftly and soon!”
And many voices heard I, plain and clear,
Promising mercy to the good, but loud
Stripes and confusion menacing to the ill,
And clamouring that the wrath of God is nigh.
The air grew pitchy dark, and thickly rained
Swords, lightnings, spears, and fiery javelins.
Rumbled the thunder, and the whole earth lay
A prey to battle, famine, pestilence.
Then, ere the vision vanished, came a voice
Commanding me to frighten you with fear,
And prophesy fresh scourges. Hear again!
The Sword of the Lord over the earth, swiftly and soon!
'Tis imminent to fall, nor can you get
Beyond its smiting. O convert you quick,
Beseeching God to stay His ire and send
True pastors who may win back vagrant souls.
The sword of the Lord! the sword of the Lord! I say,
Swiftly and soon!

TORNABUONI.
And who commissioned you
Such scourges to invoke? If Florence feels
The trembling of the air a sword divides,
Who bade the French King swoop down Apennine,
And hover o'er this city? You are leagued
With Ludovico il Moro to inflict
Upon us this invasion.

SAVONAROLA.
To foretell
Is not to fashion. I but prophesied;
And have not these my prophecies come true?
Lo! I will bring the waters over the Earth!
And over the Earth they are coming! Yet why fear?
Enter the Ark, all ye who will: its doors
Stand open still. Let all of you be quick,
For coming is the time they will be shut,
And who then stand outside the Ark of God,
Will smite their breasts in bootless penitence.
Yes! the New Cyrus comes, God's Scourge he comes,
And all who will repent not shall be scourged.
The prophecies are verified, the Sword
At length, at length is here! Over is the time,
Over, O Florence, the time for dance and song,
And in its stead hath come the time for tears.
Thy sins, O Florence! and thy sins, O Rome!
O Italy! thy sins, this scourge have caused.
How often have I clamoured in thy ears,
How often wept, O Florence, that my voice
Might yet suffice thee! Unto Thee, O Lord,
To Thee, to Thee who died for us, I turn!
Pardon the people of Florence who would fain,
Though tardily, be Thine!

TORNABUONI.
[Interrupting him.]
And why should they
Be spared, and others spared not? You have lured
A curse to Italy, and now would waive
The mischief from our heads!

SALVIATI.
And he will do it.

FIRST PIAGNONE.
Trust him, he will, and Florence will be spared.

SECOND PIAGNONE.
Hush, man! He's going to prophesy again.

SAVONAROLA.
And who is man, to argue with his God?
Hath not the potter power upon the clay,
And of the self-same lump may he not make
That vessel to dishonour,—honour this?
Tell me, O Magdalen! why now you dwell
In Paradise, who sinned as even we?
Why, Peter, who on Tabor's Mount beheld
Your Lord transfigured, yet denied Him thrice
Shamefacedly to lowly handmaiden,
Why do you now beatitude possess,
And yours the headship of God's Church? Thy sins,
Thy many sins, are all forgiven thee,
Since thou from alabaster vase didst pour
Unguents, and on His feet repentant tears.
Not for thy merits, Magdalen! and not
For thine, O Florence, art thou privileged,
But that God loves and favours whom He will.
Pray, and give alms, or else the sword will fall!
Hence to Saint Mark's, to Vespers!

[Savonarola, accompanied by Frà Domenico and Frà Silvestro, crosses the stage, the Compagnacci making way for them. Exeunt (right), followed by Salviati and the Piagnoni. Bertuccio meanwhile has entered, and remains behind with Tornabuoni, Spini, and the Compagnacci.]
SPINI.
You see the drift he has upon their wills.
They speed along like leaves before the wind,
And only halt until he blows again.

TORNABUONI.
More reason that our breath be timely spent
On things less volatile. Paolo Orsini
Hath left for Lucca, in obedience
To orders from Piero. In his place,
Keep an unwinking eye upon the Gates:
These Whimperers mean mischief. Hence at once;
And while they pray, do more effectual work.

SPINI.
Come, Soderini, Cei, comrades all,
We now have occupation.

[Exeunt Spini and Compagnacci (left).]
BETTUCCIO.
With your leave,
I too, sir, will depart.

TORNABUONI.
Unto your love?
O happy swain, that like the shepherd's star
Are in the evening just as near the sun
As in the morning.

BETTUCCIO.
Prettily conceived:
But you wrong both with your comparisons
She is the star, and follows in my wake,
Although I be no sun. She shines afar
Of her own lovingness, and makes the dark
Glow like the noon, and distance feel as near
As though I touched it.

TORNABUONI.
Ah! I plain can see
You see her plain, although I see her not.
Where is she now?

BETTUCCIO.
With me, in verity:
Ostensibly with Grosso, whose fine touch
Hath begged her for a model.

TORNABUONI.
And you lent!

BETTUCCIO.
Lent willingly. 'Twere churlish to refuse.

TORNABUONI.
Is she then such a model, round and round?

BETTUCCIO.
She hath no other merit save to love;
But this one virtue so transports her sex,
That all her faults are lifted from the ground,
And nothing foul can touch her.

TORNABUONI.
Hath she wit?

BETTUCCIO.
Just enough wit for apprehending mine.
She is the sap and would not be the tree,
Moves like the leaf nor wants to be the wind:
Insensibly and passively she lends
Her motions to the instincts of assent,
And spends her freedom in obedience.
You spoke of stars. See you, 'tis not a chain
That makes them one same centre circle round,
But faithful parallels; they, but for these,
Would rush against each other or apart.

TORNABUONI.
Still may to you all stars propitious be!
They love me not.

BETTUCCIO.
It is my low estate
Makes my security. Were I like you,
Noble, esteemed, conspicuous in men's eyes,
The coyest and most shrinking joy there is
Might fly me too. I'm a poor poet, sir!
Cheaply reputed, yet so dearly loved,
That if you thrust your rapier through the Earth
Till it protruded on the other side,
You would not fathom it; and so, farewell!
Prosper in your ambitions!

TORNABUONI.
Stay, sweet youth;
For the ambition warmest in my blood
Is but to be as happy as you boast.
I love the Lady Candida, but she
Confronts me icily. Now the fair maid,
Who is your shadow, is her shadow too.
I mark them much together.

BETTUCCIO.
They are twin.
But have you never noted, when a maid
Is in the first strange flow and flush of love,
She oft will lavish on the passive form
Of some near maid the fond experiments
Her instinct is too maidenly to prove
On our responsive selves?

TORNABUONI.
You poets mark
So many things in women that we miss.
But I would fain you said an honest word
To this your sweet, that she in turn would say
An honest word for me to—well, you know—
To her who is more sweet to me because
I yet have tasted but her bitterness.

BETTUCCIO.
I your ambassador will be with zeal.
But from Letizia latterly I heard
That, save for Frà Girolamo's assent,
This comely orphan would her tresses clip,
Frame her young forehead in a plaitless veil,
And at her girdle hang a rosary.

TORNABUONI.
Is it she may the better fly from me?

BETTUCCIO.
Vex not yourself. Whatever maids affect,
Tends but one way. Clasp they a crucifix,
'Tis that there are no baby lips to kiss.
Their prayers are sighs, their vows most virginal
But a deep need for tenderness and tears.

TORNABUONI.
But why doth Frà Girolamo divert
Her footsteps from the cloister?

BETTUCCIO.
Who shall say?
Methinks he favours the Valori's suit,
As I will favour yours.

TORNABUONI.
Well, go and suck
The sweet that waits you.
[Exit Bettuccio (right).]
There are thousand lips
'Twixt Bellosguardo and Fiesole,
Ripening for harvest, that I too might reap,
But keep my sickle for a churlish soil,
And starve amid abundance. Hither come
Del Nero and Ridolfi. They will wean
My pursing lips from bosom that runs dry.

[Enter (left) Del Nero and Ridolfi.]

SCENE II.

Tornabuoni. Del Nero. Ridolfi.
TORNABUONI.
What tidings from Sarzana?

DEL NERO.
None as yet.
Save Ludovico's gird when Piero craved
Excuse for having missed him on the road:
“One of us two hath missed his road, 'tis plain,
But 'tis not I, I warrant.”

RIDOLFI.
Much I fear
The gird was true. Purblind in confidence
While the French King yet dallied by the way,
Now that the lazy gonfalons of Charles
Unfurl and flap towards Florence, Piero makes
Obeisance forward.

DEL NERO.
No worse policy.
How otherwise Lorenzo snatched the State
From imminence of peril, fronting full
A foe declared, yet knitting friends betimes,
Making a turncoat of fixed fate itself,
And outmanœuvring mightiest menaces.
Would he were living now!

TORNABUONI.
Yet we must stand
Fast by the son, that by the father stood.
I never will desert him.

RIDOLFI.
Softly, boy!
Who hinted at desertion? But, if one
You pluck back from a precipice should plunge
Over its edge, would you still follow him?

TORNABUONI.
No; but 'twere well, lest Piero's foot should slip
Through mere mischance, like daring mountaineers
To rope ourselves together.

DEL NERO.
So we should,
If he in desperate ventures were expert.
But far from risking on the slippery height
Of absolute contention all he hath,
Lo! he goes crawling to the French King's camp,
And seeks his safety in glib lowliness.
Already potent Ottimati, like
Bonsi, Corsini, and Vespucci, join
Their hands with brawling levellers, to run
His pennon from the mast-head of the State.

RIDOLFI.
And have you noted in the public streets
Men of unwonted steadiness of eye,
And handling weapons of another time,
Such as Michele Lando and his band
Of carders brandished ninety years ago
In this same Florence?

DEL NERO.
Likewise the great Guilds
And Crafts of Industry are all astir,
Foremost among them those of wool and silk.
There's mischief manufacturing.

TORNABUONI.
Sure enough.
And can I cast a ravel in their skein,
Trust me to do it.

RIDOLFI.
You will be well employed;
Better, by far, than lavishing your breath
In the vain chase of a maid's tortuous whims.

TORNABUONI.
The circle of her beauty draws me in.

RIDOLFI.
Then have a care it does not drag you down.
Fie on you, boy! Women should never be
More than the narrow margin of our life,
Past whom its text runs on continuously.

TORNABUONI.
A truth more promptly ta'en to head than heart.

DEL NERO.
Yet, fervent youth, bear it in memory!
Nor struck there ever timelier hour than this
For purging fancy's sedentary sighs
With draughts of action. Take it from me, boy,
There's no such physic for the love-sick soul
As the brisk air of public policy.
The Signory have summoned in hot haste
This evening a Grand Council. You be there,
As will I and Ridolfi. Fare you well,
Until the Council be convened. How short
Churlish November cuts the genial day!

RIDOLFI.
Under long nights conspiracies can hide.

TORNABUONI.
Be it ours, then, to uncloak them.

[Exeunt Del Nero and Ridolfi (left). Enter Candida and Letizia (right). They do not observe Tornabuoni.]
CANDIDA.
Yes, to-night,
After the Council. When the stars are high,
We'll roam together. Mind you fail me not.

LETIZIA.
There never offered the occasion, sweet,
Of sunning me in your warm gaze, but I
Was quickly perched there. Until then, farewell.

[Letizia exit (right). Candida turns to cross the stage; and, after advancing a few steps, sees Tornabuoni, and halts.]
TORNABUONI.
Think of the angels! For of you I thought
That very instant! But is instant none
I do not think of you.

CANDIDA.
Sir, think no more
Of one so little worthy of your thoughts.

TORNABUONI.
'Tis I that am unworthy, well I know,
To house so rich a guest in my poor mind.
But you have entered there and must not quit.
I'll try to furnish it with noble thoughts,
So that you may not feel a stranger in it.

CANDIDA.
No need to furnish it anew for me.
With nobleness it is already stocked;
And, by that nobleness, I beg you will
Keep it—well, not for me.

TORNABUONI.
If not, for whom?
Surely we are betrothed?

CANDIDA.
O sir! by whom?
By one who never had the power to bind.
Lorenzo mated us for policy,
I never yielding even mute assent.
Be noble, and forget me!

TORNABUONI.
Hath the will
Power over memory? I shall forget
When all I am pales to oblivion,
But not before.

CANDIDA.
Then think of me as one
To whom you inclined graciously and got
Best reverence in return. There! let us part.

[She is going to pass him, but he bars the way.]
TORNABUONI.
Not in this wise, and never in this world,
Unless it be some other have secured
The prize I wrestle for. Tell me out plain:
Is your heart yours to give, or is't enslaved
Unto Valori?

CANDIDA.
Sir, I think you fail
Somewhat in courtesy. My heart is Heaven's:
No earthly tenant yet hath entered there;
Nor, saving you, hath any sought to force
His way in without knocking.

TORNABUONI
(aside).
That is why
They stand without. No chaste maid lifts the latch.
But open it yourself, they lack the strength
To thrust you forth!
[He draws nearer to her.]
Your hand was placed in mine.
Lorenzo plighted us, and that pledge I
Sealed with my melting love, as now I stamp
Myself upon your lips.

[He kisses her by force. Enter (right) Savonarola, Frà Domenico, and Frà Silvestro.]
SAVONAROLA.
Lorenzo Tornabuoni! What is this?
A noble maiden! you, not noble less,
Outrage her modesty!

TORNABUONI.
We are betrothed.

CANDIDA.
Pardon him, Frà Girolamo, as I,
Freely forgive. But this, in right to me:
If it be true I plighted am to him,
'Twas by Lorenzo, shortly ere he died,
For public ends.

SAVONAROLA.
Fie on you, sir, to claim
A bond like that, which Heaven's self hath made void,
Void in its sight before. Go you, my child,
With Frà Silvestro: he will tend you home;
Though I can read in every lineament
You have a guardian angel of your own.

[Exeunt (left) Frà Silvestro and Candida. Savonarola and Frà Domenico gaze after them.]
TORNABUONI
(aside).
Curse on these shaven pates that claim to stand
Betwixt the soul and body! But that kiss
Will sound her soul unto its very depths,
And fetch her up her secret.

[Exit (right).]
FRÀ DOMENICO.
See! he hath gone, nor waited to be chid.

SAVONAROLA.
His conscience chides him sharper than can I,
Or he had fled not. Ah! how happy we,
The lawless ardour of whose fleshly lusts
In the cool cloister are extinguishëd.
But we must be indulgent to the heat
Of the unscreened world. I do remember me
How at Ferrara, in my glowing youth,
A daughter of a Florentine exiled
From this contentious city, with a look
Transfixed my heart. She was a Strozzi, but,
She not being born in wedlock, I conceived
His pride might stoop to me, a lowly youth;
But God, who loved me better than all love
Of man or maiden, kept me for His work.
They scorned me,—but enough. Only, my son,
Love, if it happy or unhappy be,
Treat you indulgently.

FRÀ DOMENICO.
This maid would wed
The loveless pallet of a convent cell.

SAVONAROLA.
I know it; but 'twould be to injure Heaven
Did we the sad and sinking world deprive
Of such sweet household leaven, which should be kept
To make some good man's soul rise higher still,
And lighten his life's heaviness. Come, my son!
We must go pray the Holy Spirit to be
With the Grand Council.

[Exeunt (left). Simultaneously enter (right) Salviati, accompanied by a strong band of armed Piagnoni.]

SCENE III.

SALVIATI.
Take care to stand your ground.
Spini and Soderini and their crew
Of Compagnacci come. But never fear!
The people side with us, and all the Guilds
Have gone against the Medici.

[Enter (right) Spini, Soderini, Cei, and the Compagnacci. Then come on the processions of the various Guilds, and occupy the space between the Compagnacci and the Piagnoni. The Signory emerge from the Palazzo Pubblico, with the Dieci de Guerra, the Otto di Balìa, and many leading Citizens, conspicuous among whom are Capponi, Corsini, Bonsi, and Vespucci. They occupy the steps of the Palazzo Pubblico, and the Loggia de' Lanzi. Citizens crowd in where they can.]
SPINI.
We are late.
Spread yourselves out.

SODERINI
(to some of the Compagnacci).
Remember, not to shout
Till Spini gives the signal.

CEI.
We shall wait
Vainly for that to-day. 'Tis plain enough
We are outnumbered.

FIRST PIAGNONE.
Lord! how dark it grows!

SECOND PIAGNONE.
Yes, puzzling dark. We must have torches.

SALVIATI.
See!
Torches are coming. Friends! make room for them.

[Men bearing flaming torches of grease and tow enter.]
CRIER.
Silence, good citizens! that you may hear
Proposals from the Signory.

FIRST COMPAGNACCIO.
Look! look!
Luca Corsini is about to speak.

SECOND COMP.
He is not the Proposto: Why should he
Break through the law?

CORSINI.
Dear fellow-citizens!
I am not the Proposto, neither hath
The Signory invited me to speak.
But times there are when, as the people know,
The people's safety is the highest law.

THE PEOPLE.
That's true enough.

CORSINI.
And this is one of them.
Charles of Anjou, invited o'er the Alps
By Ludovico Sforza, hath affirmed
His claim to Naples, and with horse and foot,
Frenchmen and Swiss, some fifty thousand strong,
Hath fought his way unto your very doors.
But, fellow-citizens, he doth not come
An enemy to Florence; only asks
A friendly passage.

A VOICE.
But our money too.

ANOTHER VOICE.
It seems that Florence always has to pay.

CORSINI.
Better to pay in money than in blood,
Which, when 'tis spilt, sucketh up money too.

VOICES.
There, he is right.

CORSINI.
Piero de' Medici,
Not heeding this, made of the King a foe.

[There is commotion in the Crowd, the Compagnacci crying “No!” but they are shouted down by the Piagnoni, the Guilds, and the People. Corsini grows embarrassed. Young Jacopo de' Nerli rises to back him up.]
NERLI.
Yes, made a foe who might have been a friend,
Whereby I tell you—

[There is fresh disorder. The father of Jacopo de' Nerli rises.]
FATHER OF NERLI.
Pay my son no heed:
He is too young, and of too crude a brain
To give ripe counsel.

[Piero Capponi rises.]
VOICES.
Let us hear Capponi!
Capponi speaks!

CAPPONI.
Yes, fellow-citizens!
For I have words in me that will not wait,
But claim an exit. Time is it to end
Our childish ways. Piero de' Medici,
Unlike his father, bold yet politic,
Is ruining the Commonwealth. He might,
As you have heard, have bargained with the King,
Who asked nought better. But in lieu of this,
Partly from levity, in part from spite
'Gainst Ludovic of Milan, the King's friend,
He bade the Tuscan fortresses resist
The advance of Charles, who straight laid siege to them.
Know ye the latest tidings? Piero now,
Hastening in terror to the French King's camp,
Hath these your precious strongholds rendered up,
The keys of all our Tuscan territory:
Firstly, Pietrasanta, which to win
Florence a hundred thousand ducats spent;
With it Sarzana, which the State hath cost
Full fifty thousand florins; last of all,
Is Sarzanella.
[There is again commotion in the Crowd, but it is manifest that the preponderance of opinion is against the Medici. Capponi goes on.]
Therefore I say once more,
Piero de' Medici is proved unfit
To guide the Commonwealth. Straight let us name
Ambassadors to Charles, who, if they meet
Piero upon the way, salute him not,
But to the King expound from whom it was,
From whom alone, proceeded enmity,
And that in Florence he and the French name
Have ever had and still will find a friend.

VOICES IN THE CROWD.
Truer he could not speak.

OTHER VOICES.
Say, could he?

OTHER VOICES.
No!
Long live Capponi!

CAPPONI.
Therefore we must choose
Men of repute and honour to convey
Our welcome to the King. At the same time,
My fellow-citizens, we must not fail
To bring in from the country armèd men,
Trusty of purpose and discreetly led,
Who may within the city's unseen nooks,
Convents and cloisters, snugly be concealed.
And let not any Florentine omit
To have a dagger or a pike at need,
So that if this most Christian King demand
More than a splendid homage at your hands,
With 'chance some solid tribute which the French,
An avaricious race, love best of all,
You then may show him a fixed countenance,
In armour roughly-set.
[The Crowd shout and clash their arms.]
And now, my friends,
To choose Ambassadors.

VOICES.
We all choose you!

CAPPONI.
Good: I will go. But there is one whose name
Is upon every lip, in every heart.
Know you that name?

VOICES.
Yes, Frà Girolamo,
The Prior of Saint Mark!

CAPPONI.
Ay, none but he,
Savonarola, for he prophesied
The coming of the King across the Alps,
And who alone, nor I nor any one,
But only he, from Florence can avert
The ills invoked by Pier de' Medici.
Wish you that Frà Girolamo should go?

THE PEOPLE.
Yes! all—all—all—all of us wish it.

[The Compagnacci are cowed and remain silent. Some of them gradually slip away.]
CAPPONI.
To him I your election will convey.
He loves the people and will treat their choice
As though it were a message from on High.
And now, good citizens, disperse; the night
Is deepening fast. Hence to your homes, and trust
The Signory to save the Commonwealth.

[The Signory, the Dieci di Guerra, the Otto di Balìa, and leading citizens, retire into the Palazzo Pubblico. The Crowd gradually disperses, the Compagnacci scowling at the Piagnoni, and an air of suspicion and defiance pervading the multitude; but no disturbance takes place. Meanwhile, the following dialogue goes on.]
SALVIATI.
Are you content Savonarola goes
To parley with the King?

PIAGNONI.
Ay, well content.
We all trust Frà Girolamo.

SPINI.
Hence, my friends!
We are outpolled; but should it come to blows,
Sinews will count, not numbers.

[Exeunt the rest of the Compagnacci (left), and only Bettuccio and Letizia are left upon the stage.]

SCENE IV.

Bettuccio. Letizia.
LETIZIA.
Here she comes,
As punctual as a star and yet more pure.
[Enter Candida (right).]
This is the lady Candida, whom I—

BETTUCCIO.
Praising so much, did not yet praise enough.
But I must leave you, momently to hie
To Tornabuoni, and apprise him quick
That matters march awry. 'Twas thought he would
Be present at the Council; but no voice
Could have withstood the torrent of discourse
That foamed 'gainst Piero. Lady, with your leave.

[Letizia embraces him. He salutes Candida, and exit (left).]
CANDIDA.
Is that your lover that you told me of?

LETIZIA.
None else. What think you of him?

CANDIDA.
He is well,
And deft at courtesy. But have a care
You love not overmuch.

LETIZIA.
That cannot be.
He is a poet, hence athirst for love,
And one must make a fountain of one's heart,
And keep it flowing.

CANDIDA.
What if it should well
When he would drink no more?

LETIZIA.
O, you are wrong,
Echoing a common shout. A poet is
The two extremes of our prosaic mean.
Because he gives so much, much he demands;
No partial love contents him. Being large,
He is not filled with little, but exacts
All that is in this tiny tenement,
And all it vastly longs for.

CANDIDA.
Happy youth,
To have found one woman in this cautious world
Who keeps back nothing! Heaven scarce were Heaven,
To beggar this so prodigal a heart.
Yet have I heard that love was born a cheat,
And in the end will sweep up all your stakes!

LETIZIA.
That's when you play with him; a hellish game
No honest woman tries. Bettuccio's long!
I wish he would return.

CANDIDA.
He scarce has gone.
You think your heart the clock, and that time ticks
With fancy's bounding pulses! How I wish
That your Bettuccio had the grace to choose
A Cause as fair as you. Why does he mate
With Frà Girolamo's worst enemies?

LETIZIA.
I never questioned him on such a thing,
Since alien 'tis to love. Now, now I must,
Since I perceive that danger lies that way.
This Signor Tornabuoni was the friend
Of his convivial seasons in the days
While yet Lorenzo lived. Men's amity
Is pledged above their beakers; and he vows
That braver gallant never kissed a cup.
He hath a noble port.

[Enter Valori (left) breathlessly. Candida plucks at Letizia's gown, to lead her away.]
VALORI.
Nay, do not go!
I am in need of some swift messenger.

CANDIDA.
None is more swift than I will be.

LETIZIA.
No, no!
You are too dainty for such common work.
Trust me, sir, with your message.

CANDIDA.
Both can go.

LETIZIA.
We must not; for Bettuccio would return,
And neither find.

VALORI.
Now, fortune stand by me!
Speed, quick-fledged maiden: I will stand on guard
By this fair lady while your errand runs.
Nor must I quit this place until you bring
Hither the Signory. If in their beds,
Rouse them, and say Valori waits without.
Now quick into the Palace! You must go
Round to the postern entrance.

[Exit Letizia (right).]
CANDIDA.
Sir! you seem
To bear grave tidings.

VALORI.
Grave indeed they are,
But graver not to me than news that you
Could give me, an you would.

CANDIDA.
What may that be?

VALORI.
News, O, so long in coming! Why do you live
Solitary as a swan and as content,
That, on some silent mere sedately moored,
Keeps turning on itself? Yet lone swans have
Somewhere a nest. Oh! make your nest with me,
Deep in the sedges of protecting love,
Where ripples of vexation die away
And winds are barred from coming!

CANDIDA.
With what ease
You ask what is with difficulty given!
You tell me that you love me. That seems much.
If I love you, I do not know it, sir!

VALORI.
O, why do you delay in loving me?
The fruit that ripens slowly is half sour,
While sweetness comes with quick maturity.

CANDIDA.
Hush! or you'll wake the night! Look at the stars,
Holding in Heaven their silent colloquy.
Why do they keep so silent?

VALORI.
Is't not because
Silence alone makes perfect harmony,
And in their concord ne'er a false note strikes
To scandalize the ear?

CANDIDA.
See! One is falling—

VALORI.
Leaving a long trail.

CANDIDA.
Why doth a shooting star shine brightlier far
Than any that keeps fixëd in its seat?

VALORI.
'Tis, its career, being brief, is glorious.
Who would not into jaws of darkness jump,
Traversing first such bright trajectory?

CANDIDA.
Hush! Falling stars are high examples sent
To warn, not lure. Gross fancy says they are
Substantial meteors; but that is not so.
They are the merest phantasies of Night,
When she's asleep, and, dimly visited
By past effects, she dreams of Lucifer
Hurled out of Heaven.

VALORI.
How sweetly moralised!
Where did you learn that wisdom?

CANDIDA.
At my prayers:
A fountain of instruction, much I fear
Men dip into but little. You blasphemed,
So I made solemn your profanity.
Stars are the eyes of night, wherewith she sees
What ill we do, and silence is the ear
With which she listens.

VALORI.
You are too pure a strain
To mix with my impurity.

CANDIDA.
That proves
You purer than you think. If I could love,
It would be for the strong humility
That bends as low as I am. See, they come.
Now lend your ear unto the State, nor brood
On private yearnings. Florence wants your heart:
Give it her wholly.

VALORI.
At your bidding, yes;
And she, when saved, will give it back to you.

[Enter Letizia (right), followed by Corsini, Bonsi, and Vespucci. Candida and Letizia retire.]
VALORI.
Forgive me, gentlemen, for treating sleep
As though it were siesta of the day.
But I bear pressing news. All goes amiss.

BONSI.
Come you from Pisa?

VALORI.
Yes, from Pisa straight,
Spurring as fast as hoofs would carry me.

CORSINI.
Is the King there?

VALORI.
There, and with all his force
Whither the first Ambassadors we sent,
Unknown to Piero, now have followed him.

VESPUCCI.
But they found Charles at Lucca.

VALORI.
So they did;
And there the King showed reasonable mind.
But Piero, bidding higher, foiled their terms,
And now Charles craftily affects to treat
But with the Medici alone.

CORSINI.
Is't true
That Piero hath contracted we shall pay
Two hundred thousand ducats?

VALORI.
So I learned,
Coming along the road. But hear you worse.
Not only Pietrasanta and the twin,
Sarzana, Sarzanella, are unlocked,
But Piero hath engaged to render up
Pisa.

ALL.
What! Pisa!

VALORI.
Yes, and with them too
Leghorn and Ripafratta.

BONSI.
News the ear
Can scarce think audible.

VESPUCCI.
And ne'er a tongue,
Unless it were Valori's, could announce,
And be believed.

VALORI.
Alas! 'tis positive!
And with it snaps the ultimate frail link
That tied me to the Medici.

CORSINI.
Yet stay!
What if against the city Charles advance,
Conveying Piero with him?

BONSI.
Never fear!
Fool though he be, he hath the wit to know
That if into the saddle tilted back
By Charles or any other, Florence quick,
When these had gone, would buck him out of it.
He needs must grasp the stirrup for himself,
Or never mount again.

VESPUCCI.
He clutches now.
For the boy Cardinal who should have worn
The plain male garb of statecraft, and have left
The sacristy's adornments epicene
Unto this Piero, in his brother's cause
Works day and night through all the thoroughfares,
Lavishing gold, and plying still the cry
Of Palle! Palle! but no echo finds.

[Enter (left) Marcuccio Salviati in hot haste.]
SALVIATI.
No palliation, gentlemen, I plead,
For breaking on your conference. The news
I bring is my excuse. Not one chime since,
Paolo Orsini, coming from without,
Seized on San Gallo Gate, and occupies
That quarter wholly.

VALORI.
Does he come in strength?

SALVIATI.
Five hundred horse and twice as many foot,
And all the rabble shout for the Medici.

CORSINI.
That is the slum where still the vermin hide.

SALVIATI.
But 'tis believed Piero himself hath set
His face towards the city.

VALORI.
May it be true!
See, Salviati, that your trustiest hands
For no excuse disperse, and keep them near!
Apprise the Guilds. I will not fail to lend
Assistance opportune. The Signory
Will do the rest.

Salviati retires (left).]
VALORI.
'Tis patent, peril lurks
In this advancëd night, and will unfold
Its tokens with the dawn. Who is't to-day
Is the Proposto?

VESPUCCI.
Intempestively,
Antonio Lorini, who commands
Likewise the Palace Keys; so we took care
He was not woke.

BONSI.
As care too will we take
Out of his hand betimes the keys shall slip,
Should they be wanted.

VALORI.
Let us to our posts,
And sleep no more! The night now nears its term,
And from its womb will issue forth a day
With freedom's chrism fair Florence shall baptize.
Valori! be familiar with your sword!

[He draws his sword, and kisses the blade, then salutes the three, and they all retire.]

SCENE V.

[Various signs of early morning. People living in the houses in the Piazza open their windows, throw back the persiane, and look out. Artisans pass across the square. Women come to the fountain with pitchers and brazen vessels. Enter (left) Spini, Soderini, and Cei.]
SPINI.
San Gallo Gate is safely held, and there
Piero will find an entrance.

SODERINI.
As a rat
Doth to a trap that is to throttle him.

CEI.
Think you that, Soderini?

SODERINI.
Faith! I do.
All the Guilds go against us. If it were
Only the Piagnoni showed their teeth,
Well, they might snarl; but folk that know to bite
Have begun barking.

SPINI.
Is it true the arms
In the Bargello have been seized upon?

CEI.
There's not a brat but brandishes a blade,
And blusters for the People.

SODERINI.
Look! they stream
From every street and passage hitherward,
Clumsy with weapons. We had best retire,
And keep our folk in hand.

[Exeunt (right). People come trooping into the Piazza from all sides, armed with rusty swords, broken rapiers, old-fashioned pikes, etc.]
FIRST CITIZEN.
No work to-day, I warrant.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Deuce a stroke.
I've shut up shop.

THIRD CITIZEN.
We're all for Liberty.
Fine folks may wait for once: needle and awl
Must have a holiday.

FIRST CITIZEN.
They will be fortunate
If they get shaved.

TAILOR.
They're pretty sure of that.
Your barber is in wrangling times of peace
A valiant politician; but the edge
Of his sharp wit grows blunt when risk's to shear.

COBBLER.
Ay, ay, your tailor is the likeliest man,
When clothes are to be torn.

TAILOR.
Save cobblers, who
Are useful when you want to run away,
And not to slip.

[The Crowd laugh. Suddenly a noise is heard in the distance, and all of them rush towards the back of the stage, to see whence it proceeds. They give way as the sound gets nearer, and retire towards each side of the stage.]
FIRST CITIZEN.
It's Pier' de' Medici.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Hath he returned?

THIRD CITIZEN.
Look if he hasn't! with courtiers at his heels,
But courtiers with their forks out.

[Enter Piero, attended by his brother the Cardinal, Paolo Orsini, and a goodly following of armed men.]
ORSINI.
Have you not got a cheer? Hath garlic ta'en
The sweetness from your breath?

VOICES.
Down with the Medici!
We want no Medici!

ORSINI.
Want, or not want,
You'll have to bolt them.

[Orsini and his followers drive the people back, and overawe them. Piero walks to the main door of the Palazzo Pubblico, and ascends the steps. As he does so the doors are thrown open, and the Signory, headed by Corsini, Bonsi, and Vespucci, appear in the doorway.]
CORSINI.
Piero de' Medici, what want you here?

PIERO.
To enter as I entered have before,
Whene'er I willed.

BONSI.
Your will no more is law.
You to King Charles would sell the Commonwealth
That is not to be bartered.

PIERO
(sternly, and attempting to pass).
Leave, I say!
Pass through I will.

VESPUCCI.
Then through the postern gate,
Where others pass.

[The Cardinal and Orsini rush forward to abet Piero, but they are too late. The doors are shut in Piero's face. The Crowd take courage, and begin to hiss. Piero draws his sword, as though he would use violence against them. At that moment the bell of the Tower of the Palazzo Pubblico begins to sound. Fresh Crowds hurry into the Piazza, where reigns the utmost confusion, the people crying, “Popolo e Libertà!” “Abbasso le Palle!” In the confusion, Piero, still with sword drawn, retires, covered by Orsini, the Cardinal, and their followers. Tornabuoni, Ridolfi, and Del Nero enter, followed by Spini and the Compagnacci, who shout, “Palle! Palle!” “Long live the Medici!” But Valori, with an armed retinue, appears, and the party of the Medici gradually retire, till the stage is occupied only by the Piagnoni and the People, who shout, “Popolo e Libertà!” Tornabuoni, Del Nero, and Ridolfi linger; and a Crier appears on the steps of the Palazzo Pubblico.]
CRIER.
Five thousand florins will be paid to him
Who Pier' de' Medici brings here alive,
Or Cardinal Giovanni; and, if dead,
Two thousand florins. This the Signory
Promises solemnly, and thus proclaims
Both rebels and both outlaws.

[Enter Salviati.]
SALVIATI.
An offer made too late. Pier' de' Medici
Passed through San Gallo Gate, and spurs him fast
On to Bologna, in the company
Of his brother Giuliano.

THE PEOPLE.
Libertà!
Popolo e Libertà. Down with the Medici!

VALORI.
Hence to the Podestà, and drag we down
The effigies placed there by Cosimo
In '34; and with them those that look
From the Dogana gate, more recent trace
Of rule to be obliterated now!

[Exeunt Valori and his retinue, followed by the People.]
RIDOLFI.
How light these new keels run before the wind!
Let us but help them with a following breath,
They will capsize.

TORNABUONI.
I rather would confront
Their giddy course and send them staggering down,
Than lead them forward.

DEL NERO.
You were best in port
Until this hurricane shall cease to blow.
Follow an old man's counsel, and depart.

TORNABUONI.
That, if I must. But never will I catch
A watchword from their greasy mouths and smack
My lips upon it; so, for now, farewell!

[Exit Tornabuoni (right). Enter Salviati (left)].
SALVIATI
(to DEL NERO).
Sir, you had best go crouch. The people gut
Your son Antonio's hearth; the like they do
To Giovanni Guidi, and no less
To Antonio Miniati. Passing on
From Via Larga, where they sacked the house
Of the young Cardinal, they plunder now
His treasures in the garden of Saint Mark.
Your turn will surely come.

RIDOLFI.
Then let us hide,
While yet is time.

[Del Nero and Ridolfi prepare to depart; but the populace enter again from different points, crying “Abbasso le palle!” Del Nero and Ridolfi shout “Popolo e Libertà!”]
FIRST CITIZEN.
Ha! here they are! And harken how they shout
For Freedom, as the devil brought to bay
Mouths Scripture.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Let us make an end of them!
They are enemies to the people.

THIRD CITIZEN.
No, not death,
But only fire. Hence let us to their homes!

VOICES.
Yes, yes! We'll teach these lords of privilege
What freedom means!

[Savonarola, attended by FràDomenico, Frà Silvestro, and other Monks, suddenly appears on the Piazza.]

SCENE VI.

SAVONAROLA.
Hold! Christians! Florentines!
What wickedness is this? Hath the Lord God
Delivered you from tyranny of One,
Only to let this city undergo
The tyranny of Many? Truce henceforth,
Truce to vindictiveness! God spares who could
Crush all His enemies; you too must spare.
The Medici have gone, have fallen, have fled,
And all the meretricious gauds of power
Have brushed your Gates. Down on your knees and give
Thanksgiving unto Christ who liberates,
And liberated you. The French King comes;
And how will you receive him if your hands
Be black with burning Christian hearths? Forbear,
As ye would be forborne with. Know, the Scourge
Hath not yet passed. The Sword of the Lord still hangs
Aloft in the sky. Would ye avert it, show
Mercy to the unmerciful. No more blood,
And no more fire, but prayer, and love, and peace.
Shortly you will be summoned to pronounce
On your new Government; but no more blood for fire,
Nor ransacking of roofs! Florence is free,
And Christ is King! Clamour ye loud for Christ.
Now and henceforth King of the Commonwealth!

THE PEOPLE.
Long live Christ! Long live the Commonwealth!
Long live Savonarola!

SAVONAROLA.
Now await
The entry of King Charles with mingled mien
Of Christians and of freemen. As a friend
He comes; a friendly welcome lend to him.
The Scourge of the new Cyrus shall descend
On other walls than yours, if carnal toys
You put away, and mortify the flesh,
Indulged so long. Now once more, Long live Christ!

[The People again shout as Savonarola bids them, and gradually disperse. He too retires, followed by his Monks. Enter Grosso (right), followed by his Wife.]
GROSSO.
Rate me no more. The artist's mind should brood
On its intention long and silently;
But you so often lift me from the nest,
My purpose cools, and that which might have been
Matured to punctual perfectness, when hatched
Is part abortive.

ANITA.
Keep your simile,
To mend yourself. You never are on cluck,
Unless the fair Letizia be at hand
To clap you to a sitting. Why should she
Be indispensable the more than I?
My bust is shapelier far than hers, my arm
More ripe and rounded. She is raw and lean.
Her daintiest charms are locked against your gaze,
At least they ought to be, and shall be, too,
Whilst mine are at your bidding.

GROSSO.
True, good wife.
But Art is less material than you deem,
And gloats on the invisible. Besides,
This maiden sits so patiently, she lends
A sympathetic instinct to my touch.
She never rails at me, but smiles as sweet
As fresh-culled spray of dewy eglantine,
Whose blossom, pinky-white, is half unclosed,
Half shut upon itself.

ANITA.
She flatters you,
Plain with her tongue, yet plainer with her eye;
And men with adulation can be caught
As easily as flies with syrup are.
Thicker and coarser that the mixture be,
The more they stick.

GROSSO.
Then why not try that way,
To hold me fast? My duty is to you,
Likewise my wont. But never doubt of this:
My fancy wanders unrestrainedly,
Alighting upon all things fair and sweet,
And with what sugared bounty they secrete
Stocking invention's hive, that cannot live
On one sole flower, howe'er with honey brimmed.
If this be infidelity, I am
The most unfaithful vagabond alive;
And so rail on.

[Exit Anita, in dudgeon (left). Enter Salviati and Piagnoni (right).]
SALVIATI.
Come on, my fellows, we are here in time
To pick the choicest standing-ground, nor lose
One word of wisdom by our elders dropped.
There! Range you so! Ho, Grosso! Is it you?
Have you, too, come to hear the tough debate
Between the Frenchmen and our Signory?

GROSSO.
Not I, in sooth. There's talk enough at home
Without resorting to the market-place.
Argue away; I will retire me where
Time is not squandered in vain controversy,
But what I think, I do.
[Exit Grosso (left).]

FIRST PIAGNONE.
That gentleman
Thinks not thin wine of himself.

SECOND PIAGNONE.
Which of them does?
These transcendental artists in the end
Idealize themselves.

TAILOR.
I often thank God
I was not born a sculptor.

COBBLER.
Nor a poet.
They are worst of all.

[Enter Spini and Soderini (right).]
SPINI.
A merry time you'll have,
Now that the Medici have gone. The French
Are chalking all your doors.

FIRST CITIZEN.
What! Have they come?

SODERINI.
Thick through San Frediano Gate they stream
And eddy where they will.

COBBLER.
I think I had best
Go home and see what's doing.

SPINI.
Better not:
You may see more than caution bargained for.

COBBLER.
I think I'll go. 'Twere wiser.

TAILOR.
Faith! not I.
My wife will guard the hearth.

SODERINI.
But who'll guard her?
These friends invoked by Frà Girolamo
Have ta'en no monkish vows. A slender waist
Decoys them even from a rounded purse.

SECOND PIAGNONE.
Heed not his gibes; he is a partisan
Of Piero, lately taken to his heels.

[Exeunt (left) Cobbler and Tailor, the Crowd laughing and jeering.]
SPINI.
But not, like you, and your smug sniggering kin,
Ally of these transmontane pilferers.
We are for Florence. Here is one that brings
The greenest news.

[Enter Cei (left).]
FIRST PIAGNONE.
What tidings have you, sir?

CEI.
Tidings quite good enough for such as you.
The Pisans have revolted, and the King
Lifted no hand to stay them while they drove
The Florentine Commissioners away.

SECOND PIAGNONE.
Then Pisa's lost!

SODERINI.
Lost, just as we shall lose
Town after town to gratify your spite
Against the Medici.

THIRD PIAGNONE.
'Twas Piero's self
Was willing to surrender it.

[Shouts are heard in the distance, and more people enter the Piazza.]
SPINI.
Hark! what now?

SALVIATI.
A rumour grew that coming with the King
Was Pier' de' Medici; and all the streets
Straight teemed with citizens. But now 'twould seem
'Tis but his wife and mother that appear
In Charles's tail.

PIAGNONI.
Orsini, aliens,
Not Florentines at all!

SECOND CITIZEN.
But who are to treat
With the French King?

FIRST PIAGNONE.
Why, Frà Girolamo.

CEI.
Always this monk! Capponi, happily,
With your heaven-born diplomatist is yoked
Likewise Valori; with them Bonsi, skilled
In endless embassies; and last, Vespucci
Whose mind is lined with parchments.

SPINI.
But what says
Charles of Anjou, with whom they have to treat?

SODERINI.
Ever the same reply: that everything
Will be arranged when once he finds himself
In the great city.

[Enter fresh Crowds. A Crier appears.]
CRIER.
Give place, gentlemen!
The Signory are coming to receive
Charles of Anjou.

[As he speaks, the Signory, the Otto di Balìa, the Dieci di Guerra, and the four Commissioners, Capponi, Valori, Bonsi, and Vespucci, emerge from the Palazzo Pubblico, and occupy the steps of the Palace and the Loggia de' Lanzi. The Crowd fall back, lining the square, and leaving a broad space for the King and his suite to enter. Meanwhile the following conversations go on.]
FIRST CITIZEN.
Indeed you never saw
A meaner manikin than this French King.
His head is like a pumpkin.

SECOND CITIZEN.
And his nose
As long as a banana, and with legs
Like one laid out. He scarce bestrides his steed,
With lance in rest I swear he could not couch.

THIRD CITIZEN.
But such a following! At his heels there march
A hundred of the loveliest youths of France,
Bearing huge cross-bows. After them, afoot,
Two hundred cavaliers with raiment dipped
In colours of the dawn, and plumes that scorn
The air they sail through.

FIRST CITIZEN.
Ay, and did you note
The Switzers with cuirasses thrown aside,
As in disdain of who should tilt at them?
The horses have their tail and mane close cropped,
A monstrous sight; in all twelve thousand strong.

SECOND CITIZEN.
And which way are they moving?

FIRST CITIZEN.
Straight across
Borgo San Frediano, thence along
Fondaccio di San Jacopo, over next
The Ponte Vecchio, grimly entering then
The Canto dei Pazzi.

VOICES.
Hush! they come!

[By this time the Signory, etc., have taken their places, in state, awaiting the King. Charles enters on horseback, lance in rest, attended by Stefano di Vers, known as Marshal Beaucaire, Marshal Brissonet, Ludovico il Moro, Philippe de Comines, and followed by armed retinue as described above. The People salute the King respectfully, but in silence.]
FIRST CITIZEN.
Look! That is Il Moro.

SECOND CITIZEN.
Black in looks as heart,
The plague of Italy.

FIRST CITIZEN.
And that's Beaucaire,
A marshal now, but in his youth a groom.

SECOND CITIZEN.
'Twas not for nothing that he learned to ride.

FIRST CITIZEN.
And that's Comines, almost as literate
As any Florentine. The rest are boors,
Who don't know print from painting.

CAPPONI.
Most Christian King, this city welcomes you,
And is your friend, so you to it extend
Proofs of your friendship. Passage it gives free
Unto your troops, and will not help withhold
In money and in kind to speed you on.
[He produces a paper.]
But these your terms are too exorbitant.

DE COMINES.
In what do they exceed?

VESPUCCI.
In every clause
We find excess. We are prepared to give
Twice sixty thousand florins to assist
Your journey forward, not a florin more.

VOICES.
And plenty, too!

DE COMINES.
What else do you except?

VALORI.
The long retention of our fortresses,
Which we demand should be restored to us,
Either within two years, or when the King
His enterprise to Naples hath achieved,
Whichever happens soonest.

DE COMINES.
Well, what more
Would you propose?

BONSI.
That Pisa should receive
No countenance in her rebellion.
The Pisans must submit, and Florence then
Will grant them pardon.

DE COMINES.
Know you these are terms
Grossly in diminution of the bond
Piero de' Medici is with the King
Prepared to ratify?

[At the sound of the name of the Medici there is commotion in the Crowd.]
VESPUCCI.
Piero de' Medici
Is from the Commonwealth of Florence banned.
His pledges bind us not.

DE COMINES.
But if the King
Prefer his promises to yours, and add
To the conditions you object to, this,
That Florence do take back the Medici?

VALORI.
Then to the King's most Christian Majesty,
This is the answer. Friends of the Medici
Are enemies of Florence. Let him choose.
Which shall it be?

DE COMINES.
Sure you forget, the King
Entered your city with his lance in rest;
And, chalk in hand, his retinue have scored
Your houses as they would.

VALORI.
Chalk-marks, forsooth,
Are just as easily rubbed out as made;
And lances laid in rest from rest must vault,
If they mean more than dreaming.

[De Comines looks at the King, who points silently to the paper in the hands of Piero Capponi, and then at his armed followers.]
DE COMINES.
I am bid
To answer that the terms writ plainly there
Are the King's ultimatum. If refused,
Well, he will blow his trumpets.

[Capponi tears the paper into fragments, and flings them on the ground.]
CAPPONI.
Sound them then!
And we will clang our bells.

[The People shout, and brandish their arms. The King looks scared. As soon as silence is restored, the King speaks.]
THE KING.
Ah! Capon! Capon! You are a wicked capon!
Then be it as you will!

[The People cheer tumultuously, and fraternise with the French troops; the Signory, etc., remaining seated. Suddenly there is a movement in the Crowd, and all eyes are turned in the same direction.]
VOICES.
See! He is coming.

OTHER VOICES.
Whence? Where? Why? Who?

THE CROWD.
Savonarola!

[Enter Savonarola, attended by Frà Domenico and Frà Silvestro. The King, who has hitherto remained covered, lifts his helmet.]
SAVONAROLA.
O most Christian King!
You are the instrument of God that hath
Been sent to mend the woes of Italy,
As I for many a year now have foretold.
Sent are you likewise to reform His Church,
Drunk with iniquity. But should you fail
In justice or in mercy, should you not
Respect the city of Florence, its honour, its rights,
And, most of all, its liberties, the Lord
Will choose another to execute His work,
And on you then will heavy be His hand,
On you the scourge you should administer.
This in the name of the Lord I say to you:
Stay here you must not, for your sojourn hurts
Both Florence and your march. You squander time,
Forgetful of the duty Providence
Upon you hath imposed. Hearken and obey
The voice of the Servant of God. If not, the sword
Will snap and splinter in your grasp, and turn
Its jaggëd edge against you.

[The King makes a sign of assent. The air rings with acclamations.]
SAVONAROLA.
Thus in peace
Speed you, O Christian King, whom Florence hails
Friend and Protector of her liberties.

[The King, his suite, and his soldiers, file off the stage. When they are gone, Savonarola turns to the People.]
SAVONAROLA.
Now hence unto the Duomo, Florentines!
Hence with me, godly citizens, to chant
Te Deum unto Heaven. The Medici have fled;
The night is past; the day of Virtue dawns!
Christ lives, Christ reigns, Christ conquers, Christ is King!

[The People shout “Evviva Christo!” Monks, Acolytes, and Choristers enter, bearing sacred banners. A Procession is formed, headed by Savonarola, who leads the way to the Duomo, chanting the Te Deum. Curtain falls.]