University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Piazza of the Duomo. On the Side Towards The Baptistery.
[The Bell of the Campanile of Giotto tolls at intervals. A bier is carried slowly across the stage (from right to left), on the shoulders of four members of the Misericordia, clad in the long black cloak and hood of the Order, only their eyes being visible. A few persons of the poorer class are sitting on the steps of the Duomo, or leaning against the Baptistery; the women knitting, and some children playing near them. Doffo Spini and young Soderini enter (left) as the bier moves on. They make way for it, come nearer the footlights, and watch it till it passes.]
SODERINI.
A wintry emblem for an April day.

SPINI.
The season keeps its promise, sun and shower.

SODERINI.
Here showers, mostly. Would that I were back
In the Valdarno, left but yesterday;
For there the spring, in brand-new buskin green,
And fledged with shafts in glittering sunshine dipped,
Was hunting wolfish winter from the plain.
Plague on the city, with its doleful dong,
And following funerals!

[A nightingale sings.]
SPINI.
Hark! Heard you that?
It was the nightingale, that all day long
Now in the gardens of the city sings.
Death troubles not his note.

SODERINI.
I have been told
By homely folk he sings unto his mate
As she keeps close on her mysterious nest.
I ween he fluteth only to himself,
Because his throat is full. Poets were wise
To copy his example, and to sing
Despite of darkness, and though all ears sleep.

SPINI.
How wise you wax, if wise is to be sad.

SODERINI.
Wisdom and sadness are as near, blithe youth,
As sun and shade. Would it were otherwise!
Experience, feeding upon all life's sweets,
[Bell tolls.]
Itself turns sour. But see! they come again!

[Another litter, but empty, borne by the Misericordia. passes across the stage (from right to left), followed by Bartolommeo Cei, who remains with Spini and Soderini.]
SPINI.
Whom with their sable paces fetch they now?

CEI.
The lustiest lad that ever wound an arm
Round the shy dimples of a lissom waist:
A faun to dance, a dryad at delight,
Whereof he drained and drained, and found no dregs.
Pallone knew no brawnier wrist than his;
And skimming like a swallow through the chase,
Nor needing e'er to perch, he looked to live
Upon the bounty of the air, and bring
The summer with him.

SODERINI.
Is he dead?

CEI.
Alack!
His flight is over, his expansion done,
His goodly sinews, florid lineaments,
Outlooking youth with fair hopes ringleted,
Packed in a coffin! O thou wanton thief,
That stealest all things, and that art withal
No richer for thy thefts, why canst not leave
Beauty that makes thee no more beautiful,
And spare that love which, when thou hast purloined,
We only hate thee more!

SPINI.
Come, come! Cheer up!
You are as moral as that passing-bell,
And as monotonous. Change but the peal,
The self-same clapper, differently swung,
Will put us all in heart. 'Tis true, the Plague
Hath thinned the ranks of goodly fellowship;
But many a churl hath likewise closed his chops;
And since all suffer, all are ill-content,
And probe the origin!

CEI.
'Tis easy named.
'Tis Frà Girolamo, whose gnawing tongue
Hath eaten deep into the Commonwealth.

SPINI.
Keep grinding on that point, and screw it home.
Mark, Soderini! it already bites.
While you, in broken covert, pike on hip,
Were lithely jousting at the wild boar's tusk,
The hunter's work in Florence was not stayed.
At length we count a friendly Signory,
Whereof the Gonfaloniere is
Pietro Pepoleschi. With him works
Giovanni Berlinghieri; and the Eight
Go mostly 'gainst the Friar.

SODERINI.
Hopeful news,
As April is until November comes;
But this complexion in two months may change.

SPINI.
Ere those months be as though they never were,
This melancholy monk shall fly our walls,
And Florence have her joyance back again.
O, 'tis a trap well baited. Set a thief
The adage says, if you a thief would snare;
And I say, set a monk to catch a monk.

CEI.
But catch your first monk first.

SPINI.
And that we have.
A lean Franciscan, in the Lent just gone,
Preaching in Santa Croce, and egged on
By Frà Mariano, publicly announced
His readiness to traverse flaming share
With Frà Girolamo, and thus decide
Who of the twain teach doctrine orthodox.

SODERINI.
The fool would soon be proved a heretic,
And burnt before his time.

SPINI.
Not quite so fast.
A fool in folly easy is outdone.
The children's plaything, Frà Domenico,
Savanarola's shadow, quickly snatched
The challenge from the rash Franciscan's mouth,
Who forthwith mumbled that his quarrel lay
Not with the follower, but the Master's self.
He, chiding Frà Domenico, had fain
The test eluded; but the Signory
Stuck his Conclusions on the city walls,
Inviting all to uphold or contravene
By Ordeal of Fire. Forthwith each cowl
That bobs within San Marco notified
Its wish to have a singeing. O! 'tis rare,
This glueing of these rooks with their own lime.

SODERINI.
Will the Franciscans stick?

SPINI.
Our only fear.
But Frà Mariano, primed by Rome, as yet
Keeps their faint faces forward, whispering them
They need not fear the Ordeal, which is framed
But as a pit for Frà Girolamo,
Who, entering once the flames, will straight be burnt,
Or, entering not, will live discredited.
Beside, the very Piagnoni cry
The loudest for a miracle, while he
With verity his visions so confounds,
He fancies air, fire, water, earth, will prove
To wand of faith subservient elements.

SODERINI.
They say he is to preach again. Is't true?

SPINI.
[Pointing to the pulpit outside the Duomo.]
Look! All the gear is ready. He will preach
This day at noon; a sign he's desperate.
But being still excommunicated, thus
He will but more exasperate the Pope,
Who even now forbids the embarrassed State
To raise one soldo from the Church, unless
This shorn heresiarch be despatched alive
Into his hands.

CEI.
What says the Signory?

SPINI.
To this no chance it ever will assent.
He by adoption is a Florentine,
And Florence cannot duck its knees to Rome.
So we ourselves must play the Pope, and be
Judges of orthodoxy. Mind you both
Be here at noon. Defenders of the Faith
Will all be wanted.

CEI.
'Tis a novel part,
And your demands grow enigmatical.

SPINI.
Have I not told you Frà Girolamo
Is going to preach? The Compagnacci, too,
Will be upon the ground to serenade
The sermon with some singing. Do not fail
To swell the chorus. It is time I went
To tune my instruments.

[Exit (left).]