University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Hall in Lorenzo's House.
Enter Frederick St. Cyr and Giacomo, meeting.
Gia.
—Good morrow, Signor Frederick St. Cyr.

Fred.
—Ah ha! good Giacomo! How goes the world?

Gia.
—Roundwards.

Fred.
No, backwards. Come, is Julian home?

Gia.
—Yes, unexpectedly—

Fred.
I expected it.

Gia.
—You expected him? Why no one knew his coming;
He only knew't himself some hour ago.

Fred.
—Still, I expected it.

Gia.
Expected what?

Fred.
—That Julian, like a gust of wind, would come
And ruffle up your feathers ere you knew't.

Gia.
—Ay, signor, but his father scolds most terribly.

Fred.
—So does a housewife, when, on washing day,
It rains; but can she stay the elements?
Anger's the steam of petty minds, and must
Escape, or else there's danger that they burst.
Look you, my friend, your worthy master wishes
To thrust on Julian the profession of
A learned doctor. Now this youth is warn'd
Of nature to recoil from such a calling,
Just as the skin shrinks up from cold. How think you,
Having attain'd an age to judge and reason,
That he will 'bide the rebuke of his own conscience
Without demurring?—pooh, pooh! Does his father
Wish that his son were such an arrant fool?

Gia.
—In sooth, I am no reasoner on these things;
But Julian surely will not be a doctor.

Fred.
—Why should he? we're not fashion'd all alike
To fit the customs of society.
Lorenzo is a worthy goldbeater—
His mind contracted as a grain of metal:
His son's imagination as expansive
As the rich leaf spread o'er its widest surface.
One grows out of the other, differing as
The ocean from the river. Come—I'm preaching,
Julian was born a poet, and his father
May strangle, but he cannot change his nature.

Enter Lorenzo suddenly.
Lor.
—Good morrow, sir! You speak your feelings freely.

Fred.
—I am a kind of forager upon
Society, and make my manners fit
Me like my gloves and jerkin—easily.

Lor.
(Bowing.)
—And what procures my humble roof this honor?

Fred.
—(Aside.
What an icicle politeness is!) Why, sir,
Hem! How is Julian, sir?

Lor.
O very well.

Fred.
—He makes some stay?

Lor.
Some six or seven hours.
My pleasure doth command him hence to-night.

Fred.
—So soon?

Lor.
Why not? I'll see no son of mine
Squandering another hour in idleness.
He's spent too many precious ones in Venice
With those, whose company hath profited
His purse, and time, and reputation, little.

Fred.
—(Aside.
Thus ever strikes the coward with a hint.)

Lor.
I much regret that business calls me from
The etiquette of entertaining you.

Fred.
—Good morning, signor!

Lor.
—(Aside.
Curse his insolence!)
Good morrow, sir. (Aside.
He'll surely now be gone.)

Fred.
—Good morrow, sir, and pleasant calculations
Over the counter. (Appears intensely looking at some pictures.)


Lor.
(Aside.
Heavens! he'll drive me mad!)
Good morning, signor!

Fred.
Why, signor, I thought you gone.
Not on 'Change yet? (Looking at a clock),

Past the hour! How's stock?
Consols? What news from India?

Lor.
(Aside.
Cursed puppy!)

Fred.
—The war with Tunis, people say, hath raised
The gold dust. But such news is Greek to me.

Lor.
—So long as you have gold to spend.

Fred.
True! Clever!

Lor.
—(Aside.
Why the young monkey laughs at me.)

Fred.
Ha! ha!
Yes witty! Were I doge, I'd melt the crown
To coin dubloons. There's nothing, sir, like gold.

Lor.
—Young gentleman, I do not understand you!

Exit.
Fred.
—Oh yes, you do! ha! Giacomo! Why, fool!
What ghost hath crossed your wonder?

Gia.
Master Frederick,
He's foaming at the mouth with passion!

Fred.
Well—
Have you not seen the Adriatic foam
And calm again? An old man's anger is
Not quite so terrible.

Bell rings violently.
Gia.
Oh! coming, sir!
Coming, sir! coming, sir! (Going.)


Fred.
Giacomo!

Gia.
Sir, coming!

Exit.
Fred.
—By Jove! he lords it most magnanimously
Over his subject slaves, this worthy goldbeater!
Gad! if his wife, and son, and two domestics,
Can find such occupation for his wrath—
What would the nation do an' he were Doge?
Well, heav'n compassionate a passionate man!
But where does Julian bury all his cares?—
I'll hunt the young recluse out. Julian, hey!
I'd rather range the desert than inhabit
This garnished solitude. Hey! Julian! Julian!