University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—A Street in Palermo.—A Festal Procession is seen issuing from the Church in the distance and advancing.
Enter a Chorus of Maidens with baskets of flowers, followed by a Chorus of Youths, and Tribolo, the King's Fool.
Chorus of Maidens.
Who shall lack a lover? Lo!
She held a hundred in her chains;
They must break them now and go
Where new loves shall pay their pains;
But who shall hail
Their cast-off faces pale?
Who yield her charms
To their dejected eyes and nerveless arms?
Not I, nor I,
Nor none of us;
And should they try,
We'd pelt them thus.

[Flinging flowers at the other chorus.
Tribolo.

Well said, Virgins! Look at me if you
would see a colour;—and there's an arm for you! “Let
me alone, villain, I cannot draw my breath,” said the
she-rhinoceros when I put it round her waist. But is there
no answer?

Chorus of Youths.
We bent the knee before her
With a worship nigh to sin,
Predestined to adore her
Without a hope to win:
But having known the dear delight
Of living in her sunny sight,
'Twere vain
That we should strain
Against the pressure of that golden chain;
For we are prisoners in Despair's despite:
And as for trying what our eyes could do
Or what our arms, with you,
We could not, scornful maidens, if we might.

Tribolo.

Hapless Bachelors! But I like you well;
for though you counterfeit a love-sickness, yet you are
clad in all the colours of the rainbow, and you sing like
peacocks. Come along! You must perform this at the
Palace. Come, musical maidens and men of many
colours. Sing in time and you shall be rewarded in
eternity,—not to mention a puncheon of strong ale which
stands abroach for you at the buttery.

[Exeunt.
Enter Ruggiero with an Innkeeper.
Ruggiero.

Brought fairly to the ground! I prithee
give the poor beast a can of wine, and when his courage
shall come back take him to the stable of the Palazzo
Arona; do thy best for him and take this for thy pains.

[Exit Innkeeper.

Poor Ronzino! thou sufferest for the sins of others.
What festal troop is this? Ha! my mind misgives me!

[The Procession crosses the stage; two Citizens detach themselves from it and stand beside Ruggiero.
1st Citizen.

Enough of this! I'll follow no further.
Foh! 'Tis a filthy crowd!

2nd Citizen.

The sun is hot, and the garlick, which
yesterday was like a flower of the field, is to-day the
least of a little unsavoury. At night there is to be a
masked ball at the palace in honour of the wedding.

1st Citizen.

If I were a nobleman and bidden, I would
not dance at it.

2nd Citizen.

Why so?

1st Citizen.

It is such a wedding as no man that dances
with consideration would dance at.

2nd Citizen.

Wherefore? It is magnificently managed
and no cost spared.

1st Citizen.

It is a wicked wedding: the bride is the
sweetest incomparable lady that ever the sun shined upon,
and the bridegroom—

2nd Citizen.

Well?

1st Citizen.

Is a pink-headed, white-haired old
gentleman; very corpulent; with one foot in the grave and the
other in a velvet shoe. Did you mark him as he stood
at the altar, leaning upon his staff? He was three
minutes groping in his pouch for the ring, and at last he
fished up—what? a pair of spectacles!

2nd Citizen.

He is a simple-hearted, kindly gentleman
—meek and mild—but as you say, very old and not
strong in the legs. Let us to the royal gardens and make
sure of places to see the fireworks.

Ruggiero.
What marriage is it that you speak of, friends?
Count Ugo's?

1st Citizen.
Yes.

Ruggiero.
And did ye say the King
Gives a mask'd ball to-night?

2nd Citizen.
Sir, so we hear.

[Exeunt Citizens.
Ruggiero.
Too late—too late! Yet shall the truth be heard!
Though what is irremediable be done,
Let what is just be spoken. To that ball
Shall come a dreary and unwelcome guest.