University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Piazza of the Duomo; the facade, and the Campanile of Giotto, at the Back of the stage.
[Enter a Carnival Procession of both sexes, the most conspicuous figures among which are Doffo Spini, Annibale Soderini, and Francesco Cei (right). All are running and romping. Some are masked, others not, but all are richly or fantastically attired. Many carry baskets of flowers, with which they pelt each other and the passers-by.]
SPINI.
Now let us sing the song Lorenzo made
The year his daughter Maddalena wed
The Holy Father's son, Francesco Cibo.

SODERINI.
Hush! Holy Fathers have no children, boy;
You mean his nephew.

CEI.
Have it as you will.
Are we not all his children? Now, the song!

[They wind round the stage, singing the following song, and pass out gradually (left). Enter Niccolo Grosso and his wife Anita (right).]
ANITA.
Not a new gown to honour Carnival!
When not the basest citizen but pours
His purse upon the pavement for his wife.

GROSSO.
Mine is already empty. Look at it!

[He draws his leathern pouch from his girdle.]
ANITA.
Then why not swift replenish it? Your hands
Hang idle, while Lorenzo stretches his,
Imploring you for statues, miniatures,
Busts, anything you will.

GROSSO.
And do you think
I, for Lorenzo, will my art demean
To make him more magnificent?

ANITA.
Others do,
And all their wives walk finely.

GROSSO
Fie on you!
What would you say, were I to bid you hire
Your beauty out to use, and urge you to it
By argument from others? Sooth, your gown
Is well enough

ANITA.
And am I beautiful?

[She approaches and caresses him.]
GROSSO.
How you have caught the blackbird's homely pipe,
Now sweet, now scolding!

ANITA.
Better mate, I ween,
Than is the lark that only sings in Heaven.

GROSSO.
Make thyself Heaven, and I will sing to thee.

ANITA.
Ah! to do that, I needs must go far off,
Or thou wilt ne'er think me celestial.

GROSSO.
Then go and trim our nest upon the ground:
I am not always singing. But before
You homeward wend, this wisdom in your ear
Why do you come betwixt my Art and me?
In that, you are as foolish as the Earth,
When it thrusts in between the sun and moon,
And gets the light of neither. This eclipse
Bars me from art, and leaves you solitary.
Pass, and let each in turn illuminate
Your giddy round. Well, you shall have the gown.
Choose it as much like me as possible,
Who now am but a remnant, going cheap.

ANITA.
Dearer to me than any younger piece,
My gifted artist! Hark! Again they come,
The gaudy revellers. I straight will hie
And make my beauty yet more beautiful.

[Exit (left). Re-enter Carnival Procession (right), singing, dancing, and playing practical jokes. With them, Bettuccio and Letizia, hand in hand, whom they salute with flowers and pleasantry; Grosso, with folded arms, looks on.]
[The Carnival passes out (left).]
GROSSO.
Ho! pretty maiden, will you sit to me?

BETTUCCIO.
To you, good sculptor! She's my model now.

GROSSO.
How! When for marble did you quit the Muse?
I thought you were a poet.

LETIZIA.
So he is,
And I am sworn to marry him. His song
Hath made love liquid; he melts pearls of speech
I' the bubbling wine of a young maiden's blood.

GROSSO.
Nay, marry not a poet. He will have
As many changeling mistresses as moods.
He wantons with the February winds,
And toys with March's forward daffodils.
He is an April fool each cuckoo-call
Can set a-gaping, and he falls in love
With every lamb that frisks its pretty tail.

LETIZIA.
He may love all, so that he loves me too.
Who would monopolise a poet's heart,
Large as the universe? It is enough
To sit within it.

GROSSO.
May you never find
Its vastness cold. But, meanwhile, warm yourself.

[Exit Grosso (right).]
BETTUCCIO.
Heed him not, sweet! the wisdom of the world
Is far too general; we poets are
Diverse as our detractors.

LETIZIA.
Be it so!
We women, when we love, are all alike.
Go like the sea and like the sea return,
Thou still wilt find me here. I am thy shore,
That slopes towards thee, and knows no other bent.
Nor will I ask if any fickle moon,
Swaying thee hither and thither, thy motions rule.
Smile on her as thou wilt and she on thee;
But thou must never so unfaithful prove
As to withhold the burden of thy moan,
When nights are dark and heaven untenanted,
From my deep-anchored lap.

BETTUCCIO.
I'll never leave it,
Though every star in heaven should shine on me.

[Re-enter Carnival Procession (left), singing, dancing, and joking. Bettuccio and Letizia stand aside, hand in hand. At the same moment Savonarola appears on the steps of the Duomo, accompanied by Frà Domenico, Frà Silvestro, and other monks.]
SAVONAROLA.
What do you here, you Pagan roysterers,
Roaring around the pillars of God's House
Your lewd fantastic canticles! The Sword
Hangs by a thread and is about to fall,—
To fall, ay, and on Florence. Put off quick
Your carnal garments, and make haste to don
The sackcloth of repentance, triflers all,
That, Christians called, are worse than infidel,
Blasphemers, usurers, slaves to fleshy lusts,
Mortgaged to Hell, whom Christ would fain redeem.
Blessëd are they that weep! You only laugh.
Shameless as Sodom are ye, and as deaf,
Seeing no star in the East! Accursëd be
Your obscene songs and foul frivolities!
Accursëd they that writ and they that sing,
Accursëd in their offspring and their doom!
The Sword of the Lord is sharpened, and your necks
Shall feel the smiting of its edge. How long,
How long shall I implore you, Florentines!
My voice is hoarse with calling, and my tongue
Cleaves to my mouth, and none is there that hears.

BETTUCCIO.
Look! in resplendent trim Valori comes,
With Bonsi and Vespucci in his train,
Luca Corsini likewise hurrying up.
We shall see sport directly.
[Enter Francesco Valori, Luca Corsini, Domenico Bonsi, and Guidantanio Vespucci. Savonarola turns towards them.]
Likewise you,
Who should uphold the Commonwealth and be
The solid buttress of the State, are but
Lorenzo's sycophants.

BETTUCCIO.
Who blasphemes now?
Cheers for Lorenzo! Come, my lads and maids,
Convince this kill-joy friar that your lungs
Have not gone dry with singing canticles.
Long live Lorenzo the Magnificent!

ALL.
Long live Lorenzo and the Medici!

VALORI.
You hear them, friar? They use plain arguments.
But I with gentler messages have come,
Commissioned by Lorenzo to lament
You use him so distrustfully. Other sons
Of Dominick, when lifted to the rank
Of Prior of your Convent, homage paid
To him their benefactor; but you flout
His pious gifts, and fling them in his face.

SAVONAROLA.
You count them gifts, I reckon them as bribes,
And have rejected them accordingly;
And as to my election, that I owe
Not to Lorenzo, but to God alone,
And unto God I pay my fealty.
May that be all?

CORSINI.
Your answer is as rough
As smooth was his remonstrance. We are charged,
If failing in our embassy, to warn,
Still in respectful language, there are laws
That give disturbers of the city's peace
But choice of exile or obedience.

SAVONAROLA.
Go tell Lorenzo that it is not I
But he that will be exiled; exiled too
Unto a land whose exiles ne'er return.
Before the unrising Judgment-Seat of God
I summon him, Lorenzo; after him,
Shortly, Pope Innocent; and swiftly then,
King Ferdinand of Naples; and this Three,
To God must answer for the swinish trough
That Italy doth wallow in. The cup
Of her abominations now is full,
Full unto overflowing. Tell him that.

BONSI.
You are ungracious, Frà Girolamo!

SAVONAROLA.
God is ungracious, when men spurn His grace.
But you, Valori, in whose heart I glance,
You will be left to serve a nobler work
Before you die.

BETTUCCIO.
And, Friar, what of us,
My sweetheart and myself? Not every day
One gets one's fortune prophesied for nought.

SAVONAROLA.
The fountains of felicity run dry
When youth's no more in season. I will keep
A girdle and a hair-shirt for you, boy;
You yet may need them. Meanwhile, hold her sweet,
And from her heart divert all bitterness.
Come, brothers Dominick and Silvester,
We'll to our Convent.

[Exeunt (right) Corsini, Bonsi, and Vespucci. Savonarola and Monks retire into the Duomo. The Carnival revellers break out again into merriment. A girl throws a rope of flowers round Letizia.]
Girl.
A girdle for Letizia!

SECOND GIRL.
And behold
A hair-shirt for Bettuccio!

[She tries to put a sack over his head.
BETTUCCIO.
Peace, you romps!
And pray you tell us, sir, if to our sports
Lorenzo be not coming.

VALORI.
'Tis the hour
He should be from Careggi on his way,
With a most gallant company. His friends
Are at the gate by this.

BETTUCCIO.
Then let us hie
Unto San Gallo, there to welcome him,
Fast followed by yon other stream of joy
That flows this way.

ALL.
On for San Gallo, on!

[They all pass out (left). As they do so, a fresh Carnival Company, headed by Soderini, enters (right), teasing and chasing Candida, who seems scared, and rushes to Valori for protection.]
VALORI.
My pretty bird, how fast your bosom beats!
[To the crowd.]
So roughly you a fledgling should not chase.

SODERINI.
We did not plan to hurt her. She's so shy,
And with her foolish fleeing tempts pursuit.

CANDIDA.
[Still confused and alarmed.]
Forgive me, sir, for clinging to your arm;
But they were me importuning with words
I do not understand, but much mislike.
But oh! 'tis he!

[She breaks away from Valori.]
VALORI.
Yes, maiden, it is I;
Who would protect you with these living hands,
If death were your pursuer. But why leave
So swift the port where you a shelter found?

CANDIDA.
They mean no harm. It was a foolish scare.

SODERINI.
My comrades, hence! Lorenzo else will miss
The welcome you intend him. This coy maid
Hath found a bold protector. Thus it is:
The timid creatures call aversion fear,
But danger which they love, security.

[Exeunt Soderini and the revellers (left).
VALORI.
How gracious Fate hath been to me to-day,
Driving your fears this way!

CANDIDA.
Not gracious more
Than unto me providing at my need
Such valid help. I thank you, and farewell.

VALORI.
The hunted hare stops longer in her seat
When the tormenting greyhounds have swept by,
And found another scent. Stay just awhile,
Until the trepidation of your heart
Subside to gentler rhythms.

CANDIDA.
So it has.
My heart again beats temperately now.

VALORI.
Alas! alas! too temperately far!
But as the snug earth thaws the wintry snow,
Thy very coldness keeps my love so warm
That it must surely end by melting thee,
And make those icy lids and frozen orbs
Windows and eaves of dripping tenderness.

CANDIDA.
O sir! I pray you do not talk of love.
My heart is in the grave, my hope in Heaven,
Where my dear parents have preceded me,
Taking life's summer with them.

VALORI.
Say not that!
Grief in young hearts is like the nightingale,
Whose note is almost sweeter than 'tis sad,
And stays but briefly. Then when he is gone,
The cuckoo calleth lustier than before,
Proclaiming loud his victory of joy.
So, sweet, sad maiden, will it be with you.

CANDIDA.
There's silent winter now, silent and bare:
I have gleaned happiness.

VALORI.
Let hopeful love
But drive its furrow through the fields of death,
There yet will wave a harvest; but, if not,
Lend me your desolation, and we twain
Will still be sad together.

CANDIDA.
You forget.
If I could more than filial fetters wear,
For other chains Lorenzo destines me.
You speak of love and liberty to one
Who lacks the second even as the first.

VALORI.
Can you give one, the other being denied?

CANDIDA.
In the old lore of love I am not skilled.
But hearts need not be erudite to know
If love be sweet, compulsion must be sour,
And other maidens say that love is sweet!
I have not tasted it. But hark! they come.

[There is the sound of returning Carnival.]
VALORI.
Nay, do not go! I will protect you still.
Or, ere you go, tell me that love is sweet.

CANDIDA.
Sweet as a rivulet one stays to hear,
Yet doth not know its meaning. Be my friend.
Friendship, 'tis said, is love without his wings,
And friendship, sir, is sweet enough for me.

VALORI.
But I would rather be your love than friend,
For see, it follows, I could fly to you.

[Enter Carnival Procession (right), headed by Bettuccio,followed by Letizia; also Anita, in her new gown.]
VALORI.
Why, stripling rhymester, back again so soon?

BETTUCCIO.
Ill news, ill news! Lorenzo hath not come.

ANITA.
But he must come. What think you of my gown?

BETTUCCIO.
You should have bought it black. Lorenzo's eye
Will never fall upon your finery.
They say he's dying.

CANDIDA.
Let us go and pray
That he may live.

VALORI.
[To Candida.]
Pray for the obstacle
Of all I yearn for!

CANDIDA.
Hush! Love should at least
Be silent in the corridors of death.
Farewell!

VALORI.
Farewell! But this, to take away.
Though from my lips thou may'st remove thine ear,
Withal, as in some sea-suffusëd shell,
The ocean of my love shall murmur still.

[Exit Candida (right). Enter (left) Frà Domenico and Frà Silvestro.]
FRÀ DOMENICO.
Go home! go home! Lorenzo's hour hath come!
Lorenzo, master of your revels when
Life sat upon his heart and waved his plume.
Now death hath mounted up behind, 'twere meet
You should suspend a while your carnival.

VALORI.
But surely, friar, Lorenzo is not dead?

FRÀ SILVESTRO.
Not dead, but now so tightly clutched by death,
That he hath sent for Frà Girolamo
To loose his soul.

ANITA.
No use then in my gown.
I would that I had waited. I must go
And pray them change it for a funeral one.

[Exit Anita (left).]
LETIZIA.
Savonarola's prophecy hath quick
Marched to its issue.

FIRST GIRL.
Ay, and look you, child,
He prophesied about Bettuccio's fate.

SECOND GIRL.
And wove a hair-shirt for your wedding night!

FIRST GIRL.
Yes, and a girdle, but not one of love.

VALORI.
My friends! it were more seemly to depart,
Since this grave news looks true. Lorenzo dead
Would shame your revelry; and should he live,
He will remember with due thankfulness
You put on gravity in time of joy,
Because he was not joyous.

CROWD.
True! Very true!
'Tis just what we were going to say, ourselves.
So let us separate.

BETTUCCIO.
Then come, Letizia,
And we will be as glum and miserable
As love will let us.

[They all prepare to depart. The scene shifts.