SCENE III.
ANOTHER ROOM IN THE PALACE.
Andrea, Fra Rupert.
Andrea.
Well met again, Fra Rupert! Why not, though,
At church with us? By this humility
You lost the prettiest sight that ever was.
Fra Rupert.
I know what such sights are.
Andrea.
What?
Fra Rupert.
Vanity.
Andrea.
Exact the thing that everybody likes.
Fra Rupert.
You young and heedless!
Andrea.
We pass lightly over,
And run on merrily quite to the end;
The graver stumble, break their knees, and curse it:
Which are the wiser? Had you seen the church!
The finest lady ever drest for court
A week-day peasant to her! By to-morrow
There's not a leg of all the crowd in Naples
But will stand stiff and ache with this day's tiptoe;
There's not a throat will drop its paste-tape down
Without some soreness from such roaring cheers;
There's not a husband but whose ears will tingle
Under his consort's claw this blessed night
For sighing “What an angel is Giovanna!”
Fra Rupert.
Go, go! I can not hear such ribaldry.
Andrea.
Rather should you have heard, as there you might,
Quarrelsome blunder-headed drums, o'erpower'd
By pelting cymbals; then complaining flutes,
And boy-voiced fifes, lively and smart and shrill;
Then timbrels, where tall fingers trip, but trip
In the right place, and run along again;
Then blustering trumpets, wonder-wafting horns,
Evvivas from their folks, hurrahs from ours,
And songs that pour into both ears long life
And floods of glory and victory for ever.
Fra Rupert.
What signify these fooleries? In one word,
Andrea, art thou king?
Andrea.
I fancy so.
The people never give such hearty shouts
Saving for kings and blunders.
Fra Rupert.
Son! beware,
Lest while they make the one they make the other.
Andrea.
How must I guard against it?
Fra Rupert.
Twelve whole years
Constantly here together, all the time
Since we left Hungary, and not one day
But I have labour'd to instil into thee,
Andrea! how wise kings must feel and act.
Andrea.
But, father, who let you into the secret?
Fra Rupert.
I learnt it in the cloister.
Andrea.
Then no doubt
The secret is worth knowing; many are
(Or songs and fables equally are false)
Among those whisper'd there.
Fra Rupert.
Methinks, my son,
Such words are lighter than beseems crown'd heads,
As thine should be, and shall be, if thou wilt.
Andrea.
Ay, father, but it is not so as yet;
Else would it jingle to another crown,
With what a face beneath it! What a girl
Is our Giovanna!
Fra Rupert.
By the saints above!
I thought it was a queen, and not a girl.
Andrea.
There is enough in her for both at once.
A queen it shall be then the whole day long.
[Fra Rupert, impatient.
Nay, not a word, good Frate! the whole day;
Ave-Maria ends it; does it not?
I am so glad, so gamesome, so light-hearted,
So fond, I (sure!) am long steps off the throne.
Fra Rupert.
And ever may'st be, if thou art remiss
In claiming it.
Andrea.
I can get anything
From my Giovanna. You would hardly guess
What she has given me. Look here!
Fra Rupert.
A book?
Andrea.
‘King Solomon.’
Fra Rupert.
His Song? To seculars?
I warrant she would teach it, and thou learn it.
Andra.
I'll learn it through, I'll learn it every verse.
Where does the Song begin? I see no rhymes.
Fra Rupert.
‘The Proverbs!’ Not so bad!
Andrea.
Are songs then proverbs?
And what is this hard word?
Fra Rupert.
‘Ecclesiastes.’
Andrea.
But look! you have not seen the best of it.
What pretty pictures! what broad rubies! what
Prodigious pearls! seas seem to roll within,
And azure skies, as ever bent above,
Push their pink clouds, half-shy, to mingle with 'em.
Fra Rupert.
I am not sure this book would do thee harm,
But better let me first examine it.
[He takes it.
Andrea.
You shall not have it; give it me again.
Fra Rupert.
Loose it, I say, Andrea!
Andrea.
I say no!
Fra Rupert.
To me?
Andrea.
Dost think I'd say it to Giovanna?
Beside, she gave it me: she has read in it
With her own eyes, has written Latin in it
With her own fingers, . . for who else could write
Distinctly such small letters? . . You yourself,
Who rarely have occasion for much Latin,
Might swear them to be Latin in ten minutes.
Another thing . . the selfsame perfume clings
About those pages as about her bosom.
Fra Rupert
(starts).
Abomination! Know all that!
Andrea.
Like matins.
Thence, tho' she turn'd quite round, I saw her take it
To give it me. Another thing . . the people
Bragg'd of my metal half an hour ago,
And I will show I have it, like the best.
Another thing . . forgettest thou, Fra Rupert,
I am a husband?
Fra Rupert.
Seven years old thou wert one.
Andrea.
Ha, but! ha, but! seven years upon seven years
Could not make me the man I am to-day.
Fra Rupert.
Nor seventy upon seven a tittle wiser.
Andrea.
Why did not you then make me while you could?
You taught me nothing, and would let none touch me,
No, not our king himself, the wisest man
In his dominions, nor more wise than willing.
Forsooth! you made a promise to my father
That nobody should filch my faith and morals,
No taint of learning eat skin-deep into me!
And good king Robert said, “If thus my brother
Must have it . . if such promise was exacted . .”
Fra Rupert.
All have more knowledge than they well employ.
Upbraidest thou thy teacher, guardian, father?
Andrea.
Fathers may be, alas! too distant from us,
Guardians may be too close . . but, teacher? teacher?
Fra Rupert.
Silence!
Andrea
(retreating).
He daunts me: yet, some day, cospetto!
Fra Rupert.
What mutterest thou?
Andrea
(to himself).
I will be brave, please God!
Fra Rupert
(suppressing rage).
Obstinate sinners are alone unpardon'd:
I may forgive thee after meet repentance,
But must confer with thee another time
On that refractory untoward spirit.
Andrea
(to himself).
He was then in the right (it seems) at last.
Fra Rupert.
I hear some footsteps coming hitherward.
