University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A Room in Roberto's House.
Enter Ernesto and Berto.
Ern.

My suspicion, Berto, has been quickly translated into knowledge. A villanous plot. Cecilia is the price Roberto pays Fernando for making him gonfalonier.

Berto.

Roberto gonfalonier!

Ern.

Ay; the plotters are at work; Fernando's minions and Roberto's ducats already trot hand in hand through the by-ways of Florence.

Berto.

Signor, think you the Signor Roberto fit for this high office?

Ern.

Thou rogue; thou shouldst have been an abbé, thou art so seeming innocent.

Berto.

I prophesy an eclipse. We shall have the Medici back.

Ern.

And deserve them. When a people persists in choosing wrongly, it jeopards the right to choose. But Roberto is not yet chosen. Fernando, 'tis true has power, noble though he be; for rank that has long been rooted, will, when cut down, throw up suckers. Yet by none is he beloved, and by all honest men, hated. Florentines, as strong as he, would

like to thwart him. If we can baffle Fernando's influence on the election, we defeat the marriage; and if we can defeat the marriage, we prevent the election. Our twofold aims double our chance of success.—I have, moreover, good tidings from my sentinel in Padua. Filippo, of whom I have told you, is on his way hither in disguise. He is a friend of the painter Alonzo, and is to pass for a Venetian. Alonzo comes for another sitting presently. I will return to sift from him what I can.

[Exeunt.
Enter Cecilia and Leonora.
Cec.
Dear Leonora, canst thou not to day
Lend me a heartful of thy cheerfulness?

Leon.
Lend thee or give my heart's whole joy I will,
And yawn a week in empty mirthlessness,
So thou wilt smile as thou didst yesterday.
Thou art unwonted sad: what hast thou, sister?

Cec.
Words from my father, they have made me sad;
Which should not be, and never was before.

Leon.
Sweet sis, fathers were made to balk their daughters,
And better them by balking. 'Tis their duty:
Thine is, to let thyself be balked and bettered,
Learning with pretty proneness thy first lesson
In virtue. Would there were some other way.

Cec.
My father has no thought but for my good.

[Sighing.
Leon.
A most rare good, that makes thee sigh to speak of.
A good, methinks, one might be selfish with,
Giving a friend the larger lump thereof.
Come, I'll be prodigal, halving it with thee.
Oh! Cecil, is't a husband?

Cec.
Thy fast tongue
Has overta'en the truth.

Leon.
Thou dost not jest?

Cec.
Would that I did.

Leon.
Wouldst be a child for ever?
For what hast thou been suckled, schooled, arrayed?
Since first thy lashes parted to the sun,
No beam has spurred thy growth, but daily graved
More deeply on thy pulse the one word, wife.
Therein is locked thy destiny, thyself.

Cec.
Good Leonora, are husbands all alike?

Leon.
Ah, there's the knot that ravels up the skein.

Cec.
Thinkst thou life could wind smoothly with Fernando?

Leon.
The duke? Is he thy suitor? thou a duchess?
Tall, handsome, noble, and thy father's choice—

Cec.
Dear sister, be not bribed by rank and looks,
The man, Fernando, what of him?

Leon.
His height
And title are the best of him. And yet,
In the dry dearth of men, these go for much.

Cec.
Oh! can I wed and love a proud cold man?

Leon,
To-day thou couldst not; but a week or month
Works headlong transformations. Love delights
In contraries; and were the cold to wed
Only the cold, frost would usurp the world,
And men soon turn to icicles.

Enter Berto.
Berto.
Signor Ernesto

Enter Ernesto.
Ern.
I've come, Cecilia, to befriend your picture,
Abetting with my tongue Alonzo's pencil.
To wordy war I challenge Leonora;
That we, by wisdom, and by wit of speech,
May so your fancy ravish, that your soul,
Charmed to your face, the painter, thence enkindled,
Shall fire the frigid canvass.

Berto.
Signor Alonzo.

Enter Alonzo and Filippo.
Alon.
Signora, I have used the privilege,
So hospitably given, and bring my friend,
Signor Valerio, who, fresh come from Venice,
Will, if so please you, rend the sitting's tedium
With latest martial news, or recent feats
Of great Giorgione and the greater Titian,
Champions of Art so nobly confident,
They throw the gauntlet down to Tuscany.

Cec.
Signor, welcome to Florence, and our house.
Of gorgeous Venice we shall gladly hear.

Fil.
Lady, I shall be grateful if you'll listen
To partial speech of Venice; yet to-day,
So lively is my mind with Florence self,
All distant images seem colorless.

Ern.
A Florentine bids you be welcome, sir,
To his fair city and to all it holds
That may or profit or divert you.

Fil.
Signor,
The high renown of Florence, I perceive,
Finds echo in its townsmen's courtesy.

Alon.
Noble Ernesto, there's no other man
I more delight to thank than you. Believe me,
My friend is worthy, sir, of your best will.

Ern.
His face, Alonzo, is your warrant's seal.
[Aside to Berto.]
The rogue tho' comes with fib upon his lips.

Alon.
[To Cecilia.]
Signora, will you sit.

[Cecilia takes her seat; Alonzo adjusts his easel; the others sit; and then the curtain drops.]