University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

IN THE GARDEN OF CAPO DI MONTE. Boccaccio and Fiammetta.
Boccaccio.
(sings).
[Fiammetta comes forward.

Fiammetta.
To come into the air?
I like it. They are all at their merenda.
The smell of melon overpowers me quite;
I could not bear it; therefore I just come
Into the air to be revived a little.
And you too here? Sly as the satyr-head [Affecting surprise.

Under yon seat!

Boccaccio.
Did you not tell me?

Fiammetta.
I?
You dreamt it.

Boccaccio.
Let me dream then on? Without
Such dreams, Fiammetta, dull would be the sleep
Call'd life.

Fiammetta
(looking round timidly).
I must be broad awake.

Boccaccio.
You must.

Fiammetta
(nodding).
And you. All are indulgent to me; most
Of all queen Sancia and Giovanna.

Boccacio.
One
A saint, the other better.

Fiammetta.
Then the grave.
Filippa . .

Boccaccio.
Grave and watchful.

Fiammetta.
Not a word
Against her! I do hold her in my heart,
Although she gives me good advice sometimes.

Boccaccio.
I'm glad to hear it; for the very worthy
Are very rarely general favourites.

Fiammetta.
Some love our friend most cordially; those know her:
Others there are who hate her; those would know her
And can not: for she stands aloof and thanks them:
Remoter, idler, neither love nor hate,
Nor care about her; and the worst and truest
They say of her, is, that her speech is dark.

Boccaccio.
Doubtless, the vulgar eye will take offence
If cedar chambers are unwasht with lime.

Fiammetta.
But why are you come here?

Boccaccio.
To gaze, to sigh,
And, O Fiammetta! tell me if . . to live.

Fiammetta
(laughing).
I never saw more signs of life in any.

Boccaccio.
Cruel!

Fiammetta.
To find the signs of life in you?

Boccaccio.
To scoff them out.

Fiammetta.
I am incapable. [Boccaccio rises, and steps back, gazing fondly.

O now, Giovanni! I am terrified!
Why! you sprang up . . as if you sprang to kiss me!
Did ever creature think of such a thing?

Boccaccio.
The drooping blades of grass beneath your feet
Think of it; the cold runlet thinks of it;
The pure sky (how it smiles upon us!) thinks of it . .
I will no more then think of it.

[Kisses her.
Fiammetta.
Giovanni!
Ah! I shall call you (wretch!) to task for this.

Boccaccio.
Call; and, by heaven! I'll come, tho' from the grave.

Fiammetta.
Any one now would say you thought me handsome.

Boccaccio.
Earth has two beauties; her Bellagio
And Anacapri; earth's inhabitants
Have only one among them.

Fiammetta.
Whom?

Boccaccio.
Fiammetta.

[Going.
Fiammetta.
Where are you running now? Stay! tho' quite angry,
I am not yet so angry as I should be:
But, if you ever take such liberties
Again!

Boccaccio.
O never! . . till we reach Aversa.

Fiammetta.
And will you there? and tell me to my face? [Is departing.

Wait, wait for pardon. Must we part? so soon?
So long a time?

Boccaccio.
Till star-light.

Fiammetta.
Stay a moment.

Boccaccio.
Gladly a life: but my old mule loves walking
And meditation. Now the mask and dress,
And boy to carry them, must all be found.

Fiammetta.
Boy, mask, dress, mule! speed, gallop, to Aversa!

Boccaccio.
So many kisses lie upon this hand,
Mine hardly reach it.

Fiammetta.
Lips there may have been;
Had there been kisses, I must sure have felt them,
As I did yours . . at least I thought I did . .
But go, for I am half afraid of you . .
That is, of your arriving yonder late.
Go, else the crowd may stop you; and perhaps
I might delay you for some sudden fancy,
Or . . go your ways . . not let you go at all.

SCENE II.

FRA RUPERT'S CELL. Fra Rupert, alone.
[Fra. Rupert]
I wisht him power; for what was his was mine;
I wisht him jealousy, distrust, aversion
For his pert bride, that she might have no share.
I never fail'd before this wretched day.
Fail'd! I have not: I will possess my rights,
Spring over him, and never more be spurn'd.
They who had rais'd his seat shall stablish mine,
Without those two vain boys: O! had they done it!
And not been where they are! The fault was theirs.

Maximin enters.
Fra Rupert.
Maximin! since thy services may soon
Be call'd for, satchel on thee my experience,
Then set about thy work. My Maximin!
Mind how thou liest! Know, if lie thou must,
Lies, while they sap their way and hold their tongues,
Are safe enough: when breath gets into them,
They, and the work about them, may explode.
Maximin! there are more lies done than said.
Son! when we hesitate about the right,
We're sure to do the wrong.

Maximin.
I don't much hesitate.

Fra Rupert.
To chain a dog and to unchain a dog
Is hazardous alike, while the deaf beast
Stands barking: he must sleep; then for the cord.

Maximin.
What! are my services in some farm-yard?
I am a soldier.

Fra Rupert.
All great statesmen have been.
How large a portion of the world is each
In his own eyes.

Maximin.
Am I so proud in saying
I am a soldier?

Fra Rupert.
I am proud of thee:
Be that sufficient. Give thou every man
What he requires of thee.

Maximin.
A world to each?

Fra Rupert.
Not so: yet hold not up to him a glass
That shows him less, or but some digits greater.

Maximin.
Honestly now, Fra Rupert, by my cross!
No gull art thou. I knew that trick myself,
And (short the digits) told it word for word.

Fra Rupert.
I will be sworn for thee. Being minister.
(Not that I think it certain just at present,
For when the sage and honest are most wanted,
That is the chink of time they all drop through)
But when thou art so, mind this precept. One
Not wise enough to keep the wiser off
Should never be a minister of state.

Maximin.
Fra Rupert! presto! make me one to-day.
Give fifty precepts, there they go [Blowing]
but this,
I'll kiss the cross and the queen's hand, and keep.

Fra Rupert.
I make thee minister!

Maximin.
You can make kings.

Fra Rupert.
Not even those! I might have made Andrea
What thou and every true Hungarian
Wisht him to be, ere he show'd hoof for claw,
And thought to trample down his countrymen.

Maximin.
Andrea bloody-minded! turtle-doves
Are bloody-minded then, and leave their elm,
The first day's mating, for the scent of gore.

Fra Rupert.
Maximin! here is no guitar for thee,
Else mightest thou sip that pure poetry
Preciously warm and frothy from the udder.

Maximin.
Father! if any in our troop call'd me
A poet, he should sing for it.

Fra Rupert.
Thou'rt brave,
Maximin! and Andrea is not bloody.
But there are princes, or have been within
Our memory, who, when blood gusht forth like water
From their own people, stood upon some bridge
Or island, waving their plumed caps, and drank
The cries of dying men with drunken ears.

Maximin.
Curses, eternal curses, man's and God's,
Upon such heathens!

Fra Rupert.
Nay, they were not heathens;
Happily they were christians, Maximin!
Andrea, though myself instructed him,
Is treacherous. Better were this pasty people
Dissolved, washt down, than brave Hungarians perish.

Maximin.
No truer word prophet or saint e'er spoke.

Fra Rupert
(sighing).
Saint hath not spoken it: O may not prophet!

Maximin.
I, being neither, can not understand you.

Fra Rupert.
The innocent, the helpless, are surrounded.

Maximin.
Andrea?

Fra Rupert.
My Andrea would betray us.

Maximin.
To whom? Are we the helpless? we the innocent?

Fra Rupert.
While he is yonder at Aversa, we
Are yelling thro' these very streets for mercy.

Maximin.
I cry you mercy, father! When I yell,
I'll borrow whistles from some thirty good
Neapolitans, who 'll never want them more.

Fra Rupert.
Be ready then! be ready for Aversa!
Glory stands there before thee; seize the traitor,
Win wealth, win jewels, win . . What have not palaces
For brave young men upon such nights as these?

Maximin.
Would'st bid me stick Andrea?

Fra Rupert.
Hungary,
Not I; our country, not revenge.

Maximin.
Bids murder?
I will proclaim thy treason thro' the camp.

Fra Rupert.
Unhappy son, forbear! By thy sweet mother!
Upon my knees! Upon my knees before
A mortal man! Yea, Rupert! bend thy head;
Thy own son's hand should, and shall, spill thy blood.

[Maximin starts, then hesitates, then rushes at him.
Maximin.
Impudent hound! I'll have thy throat for that.

Fra Rupert
(guards his throat).
Parricide! make me not cry murder . . love
Forbids it . . rather die! My son! my son!
Hide but thy mother's shame; my shame, not hers. [Maximin relaxes his grasp.

Maximin! stand between the world and it?
Oh! what avails it! sinner as I am!
Other worlds witness it. [Maximin looses hold.

My Maximin?

[Rupert embraces him.
Maximin.
Why, how now, Frate! hath some wine-vault burst
And fuddled thee? we know thou never drinkest.

Fra Rupert.
That lighter sin won't save me.

Maximin.
If light sins
Could save us, I have many a bushelful,
And little need your sentry-boxes yonder.

Fra Rupert
(very mildly).
I must reprove (my own dear child!) (Passionately)

. . I must
Reprove, however gently, such irreverence.
Confessionals are sentry-boxes! true!
And woe betide the sentry that naps there!
Woe, if he spare his voice, his prayer, his curse!

Maximin.
Curses we get dog-cheap; the others, reasonable.

Fra Rupert.
Sweet Maximin! whatever my delight
In gazing on those features (for sharp shame,
When love blows over it from lands afar,
Tingles with somewhat too, too like delight!)
We must now part. Thy fortune lies within
My hands. To-night, if thy own officers
Command thee to perform a painful office . .

Maximin.
Good father! what know we of offices?
Let them command a duty, and 'tis done.

Fra Rupert.
Discreet tho'! Maximin! discreet! my marrow!
Let not a word escape thee, not a breath.
Blessings, my tender kid! We must walk on
(I love thee so!) together thro' the cloister.

Maximin.
No, father! no; too much!

Fra Rupert.
Too much for thee!

[Rupert precedes, speaks to three men, who bow and retire; he disappears.
Maximin
(loitering in the cloister).
Incredible! yet friars and cockroaches
Creep thro' all rooms, and like the closet best.
Let me consider! can it be? how can it?
He is bare fifty; I am forty-one.

SCENE III.

THE GARDEN OF FRIAR ANSELM'S CONVENT. Fra Rupert, Klapwrath, Zinga, and Psein.
Fra Rupert.
Ye brave supporters of Hungarian power
And dignity! O Zinga! Klapwrath! Psein!
Becomes it me to praise (we may admire
Those whom to praise were a temerity)
Such men as you.

Psein.
Us? we are only captains.

Zinga.
After hard service we are nothing more.

Klapwrath.
Twenty-three years hath Klapwrath rid and thirsted.

Fra Rupert.
Ingratitude! the worst of human crimes,
Hardly we dare to say; so flat and stale,
So heavy with sick sobs from mouth to mouth,
The ejaculation. To my mind scarce witchery
Comes up to it.

Psein.
Hold! father! For that sin
Either we deal with devils or old women.

Fra Rupert.
Man was created of the dust; to make
The fragile mass cohesive, were employed
The bitter waters of ingratitude.

[Affects to weep.
Klapwrath.
Weeping will never rinse that beaker, Frate!

Fra Rupert.
It is not for myself.

Zinga.
We see it is not.

Fra Rupert.
Ye can not see deep into me.

Psein.
Few can.

Fra Rupert.
Ye can not see the havoc made within
By ever-dear Andrea.

Zinga.
Havoc?

Fra Rupert.
Havoc!

Klapwrath.
I like the word: purses and rings hang round it,
Necklaces, brooches, and indented armlets.

Psein.
But, ere we reach 'em, ugly things enough,
Beside the broken swords that lie below
And brave men brandisht in the morning light.

Klapwrath.
Brave men then should not cross us; wise men don't.

Fra Rupert.
Your spirit all attest; but those the least
Whose safety hangs upon your saddle-skirts.
Men are not valued for their worth in Italy:
Of the same price the apple and the peach,
The service and the fig.

Zinga.
Well, there they beat us.

Psein.
Whatever they may be, we can not help it.

Fra Rupert.
Help it, I say, ye can; and ye shall help it,
Altho' I perish for ye.

Klapwrath.
Then indeed,
Frate! some good might come of it; but wilt thou?

Fra Rupert.
Abandon to his fate my poor Andrea!
Has he not slept upon this bosom?

Klapwrath.
Has he?
He must have had some scratches on his face.

Fra Rupert.
Has he not eaten from this hand?

Klapwrath.
Why then,
He'll never die for want of appetite.

Fra Rupert.
Have we not drunk our water from one bowl?

Klapwrath.
Father! you were not very liberal;
He might have drunk the whole of mine, and welcome.

Fra Rupert.
How light ye make of life!

Zinga.
Faith! not so light;
I think it worth a tug, for my part of it;
Nor would I leave our quarters willingly.

Psein.
O the delight of floating in a bath,
One hand athwart an orange-bough, the other
Flat on the marble pavement, and our eyes
Wandering among those figures round the arch
That scatter flowers, and laugh at us, and vie
With one another which shall tempt us most!
Nor is it undelightful, in my mind,
To let the curly wave of the warm sea
Climb over me, and languishingly chide
My stopping it, and push me gently away.

Klapwrath.
Water, cold, tepid, hot, is one to me.
The only enemy to honest wine
Is water; plague upon it!

Zinga.
So say I.

Fra Rupert.
Three braver friends ne'er met. Hei! hei! hei! hei!
The very name of friend! You can not know
What love I bear Andrea!

Psein.
All the world
Knows it.

Frate.
The mischief he designs, who guesses?

Psein.
All boys are mischievous.

Fra Rupert.
Alas! but mischief
There might be without treachery.

Psein.
Poor Andrea!
So little fit for it!

Fra Rupert.
Frank generous souls
Always are first to suffer from it, last
To know it when they meet it.

Klapwrath.
Who shall harm
Our own king's colt? Who moves, speaks, looks, against him,
Why! that man's shroud is woven, and spread out.

Fra Rupert.
Let mine then be! would it had been so ere
I saw this day!

Psein.
What has he done?

Fra Rupert.
To me
All kindness ever. Why such mad resolves
Against the lives of his most sure defenders?
Against his countrymen, his guards, his father's
Most chosen friends?

Zinga.
Against your life?

Fra Rupert.
No! no!
Heaven protects me; he sees it; nor indeed
(To do him justice) has he such a heart.
But why ask me to aid him? Why ask me
Whether he was as strong at heart as Zinga,
Dexterous at sword as Klapwrath, such a fool . .
Pardon! your pardon, gentlemen!

[Looking at Psein.
Psein.
As Psein.

Fra Rupert.
The very word! Who else dared utter it?
I give him up! I almost give him up!

Klapwrath.
He shall not rule us. The best blood of Hungary
Shall not be pour'd this night upon the wine.

Fra Rupert.
If you must leave the country . . and perhaps
No worse may reach the greater part of you . .

Psein.
I have no mind to leave it.

Zinga.
None shall drive us.

Klapwrath.
The wines of Hungary strive hard with these,
Yet Klapwrath is contented; he hates change.

Zinga.
Let us drink these out first, and then try those.

Fra Rupert.
Never will come the day when pine-root fire
And heavy cones puff fragrance round the room,
And two bluff healthy children drag along
(One by the ear, the other by the scut)
A bulging hare for supper; where each greyhound
Knows his own master, leaps up, hangs a foot
Inward, and whimpers piteously to see
Flagons go round, then off for bread and lard.
Those were your happy times; unless when foray
Stirr'd ye to wrath, and beeves and swine and trulls
(Tempting ye from propriety) heapt up
A mount of sins to strive against; abduction
Of linen-chests, and those who wove the linen;
And shocking oaths obscene, and well-nigh acts;
Fracture of cellar-doors, and spinning-wheels;
And (who can answer for you) worse, worse, worse!

Klapwrath.
'Sblood! Frate! runs no vine-juice in our arteries?
Psein's forehead starts wry veins upon each side;
His nostrils blow so hot they'll crack my boots.

Zinga.
Must we move hence?

Fra Rupert.
To die like sheep? like conies?
Ye shall not die alone; I will die with you.
There have been kings who sacrificed their sons.
Abraham would have done it; Pagans have;
But guardians such as I am! . .

Klapwrath.
Frate! Frate!
Don't tear those tindery rags, or they will quit thee
With only horse-hair under, and some stiffer.

Fra Rupert.
You conquer me, you conquer me, I yield.
He was not bloody. Could it end with one!
And we knew which . . or two, or three.

Zinga.
But us?

Fra Rupert.
“If once the captains of the companies,”
Said he . . and then, I own, he said no more:
He saw me shudder, and he sped away.

Klapwrath.
Are we to hold our throats out to the knife?

Fra Rupert.
Patience! dear doubtful Klapwrath! mere suspicion!
He did not say the knife, or sword, or halter,
He might have meant the scaffold; nothing worse;
Deprive you he might not of all distinction,
Nay, might spare one or other of you yet:
Why then prevent what may need no prevention?
Slyer are few; many more sanguinary:
Must we (don't say it) give him up? I hope
He's mischievous through weakness, not malignity.

Zinga.
What matters that? A feather-bed may stifle us
(If we will let it) with a babe to press it.
Is there no other prince in Hungary
Fit to maintain us here?

Fra Rupert.
The very thought
That came into my head!

Psein.
But when ours fall,
What matters it who leaps upon his horse
To overlook our maintenance? A fool
I may be; can his wisdom answer that?

Zinga.
He doubts my courage, bringing thus his own
Against it. He's a boy: were he a man,
No injury, no insult, no affront . .
Every man is as brave as I . . Stop there!
By all my saints! (He shows several about him)
by all my services!
This hilt shall smash his teeth who dares say, “braver.”

Klapwrath.
What I am you know best, at battling it;
Nothing is easier: but I've swum two nights
And days together upon Baian wine,
And so have ye: 'twould swamp that leaky nump-skull.
Behead us; good! but underrate us; never!

Fra Rupert.
Having thus clear'd our consciences, and shown
Our purity in face of day, we swear . .

[Hesitates.
Zinga.
Frate, if you don't grudge an oath or two . .

Fra Rupert.
Death to Andrea! loyalty to Lewis!

All.
Hurrah!

Fra Rupert.
Sweet friends! profane not thus the cloister!
Leave me to weep for him! the cruel boy!

SCENE IV.

PALACE OF AVERSA; SALOON OVERLOOKING THE GARDEN. Sancia, Filippa, Maria, Fiammetta.
Maria.
Ha! here they come again. See! lady Sancia
Leaning upon Filippa. They are grown
Wiser, and will not barter songs for griefs.

Boccaccio
sings.

Fiammetta
(to Filippa).
I wish he would come nearer, just to see
How my hair shines, powder'd with dust of gold:
I think he then would call me . .

Maria.
What?

Fiammetta.
Fiammetta.

Filippa.
He hardly . . poet as he seems to be . .
Such as he is . . could feign a better name.
He does not seem to be cut out for singing.

Fiammetta.
I would not have his voice one tittle altered.
The poetry is pretty . . She says nothing.
The poetry is charming . . Now she hears me.
The most delightful poetry! . . O lady
Filippa! not one praise for it! not one!
I never dreamt you were yourself a poet.

Filippa.
These summer apples may be palatable,
But will not last for winter; the austere
And wrinkle-rinded have a better chance.
Throw a whole honeycomb into a haystalk,
It may draw flies, but never will feed horses.
From these same cogs (eternally one tune)
The mill has floured us with such dust all over
As we must shake off, or die apoplectic.
Your gentle silken-vested swains may wish
All poetry one sheepfold.

Maria.
Sheep are well,
Like men and most things, in their proper places,
But when some prancing knight would entertain us,
Some gallant, brightening every gem about him,
I would not have upon the palace-steps
A hind cry out, “Make way there for my sheep.”
They say (not speaking of this woolsy race)
They say that poets make us live for ever.

Filippa.
Sometimes the life they lend is worse than none,
Shorn of its glory, shrivel'd up for want
Of the fresh air of virtue.

Fiammetta.
Yet, to live!
O! and to live by those we love so well!

Filippa.
If such irregularities continue
After to-night, when freedoms are allowed,
We must lock up the gardens, rigorously
Forbidding all the inmates of the palace.
To use the keys they have.

Fiammetta.
The good king Robert
Sooner had driven out the nightingales
Than the poor timid poets.

Filippa.
Timid poets!
What breed are they of?

Fiammetta.
Such as sing of love.

Filippa.
The very worst of all; the boldest men!

Maria.
Nay; not the boldest; very quarrelsome,
Tragic and comic, hot and cold, are so;
And so are nightingales; the gardener
Has told me; and the poets do no worse
Than they do. Here and there they pluck a feather
From one another, here and there a crumb;
But, for hard fighting, fair straightforward fighting,
With this one nosegay I could beat them all.
In good king Robert's day were lute and lyre;
Nor hardly dare we hang them on the nail,
But run away and throw them down before
The boisterous drum and trumpet hoarse with rage.
Let poetry and music, dear Filippa,
Gush forth unfrozen and uncheckt!

Filippa.
Ah child!
Thy fancy to some poet hath inflamed:
Believe me they are dangerous men.

Maria.
No men
Are dangerous.

Filippa.
O my child!

Maria.
The very creatures
Whom God has given us for our protection.

Filippa.
But against whom?

Maria.
I never thought of that.

Fiammetta.
Somebody told me once that good king Robert
Gave keys to three or four, who neither were
Nor would be constant inmates of the court.

Maria.
Who might and would not! This is an enigma.
They must have felt then very low indeed.
Among our glass-house jewels newly set,
I have seen vile ones, and have laught to think
How nicely would my slipper pat their faces;
They never felt thus low.

Sancia.
We feel it for them.
Prescriptively, we leave to our assayers
To stamp the currency of gold and brass.

Fiammetta
(to Filippa).
Have you not prais'd the king your very self
For saying to Petrarca, as he did,
“Letters are dearer to me than my crown,
And, were I forced to throw up one or other,
Away should go the diadem, by Jove!”

Sancia.
Thou art thy very father. Kiss me, child!
His father said it, and thy father would.
When shall such kings adorn the throne again!

Fiammetta.
When the same love of what Heaven made most lovely
Enters their hearts; when genius shines above them,
And not beneath their feet.

[Goes up to Giovanni.
Sancia
(to Filippa).
Rapturous girl!
Warmth ripens years and wisdom. She discourses
Idly as other girls on other things.

Filippa.
That ripening warmth fear I.

Sancia.
Portending what?

Filippa.
Ah, gracious lady! sweetest fruits fall soonest . .

Sancia.
(Who sweeter?)

Filippa.
And are bruised the most by falling.

Maria
(joining them).
Sicily and myself are disagreed.
Surely the man who sang must have thick fingers.
He play'd so badly: but his voice is sweet,
For all its trembling.

Fiammetta.
Now I think the trembling
Makes it no worse. I wish he would go on.

Maria.
Evidently the song should finish there.

Fiammetta.
Evidently it should go on . . (aside)
for ever.

Maria.
Ho! ho! you are not cruel to the knight?

Fiammetta.
It is no knight at all.

Sancia.
How know you that?

Maria.
You would be frightened . .

Fiammetta.
He could never frighten.

Maria.
If tilting. .

Fiammetta.
Nobody would hurt Giovanni.

SCENE V.

Andrea, Maria, and Fiammetta.
Andrea.
So! you too have been listening, every soul,
I warrant ye.

Maria.
And have you too, Andrea?

Andrea.
From that snug little watch-tower: 'twas too high;
I only lookt upon the tops of trees.
See! him there! maskt! under the mulberry!

Fiammetta.
I do not see him . . Look for him elsewhere:
That is a shadow.

Andrea.
Think you so? It may be.
And the guitar?

Fiammetta.
What! that great yellow toad-stool?

Andrea.
How like is everything we see by starlight!

Fiammetta
(aside).
If there were not a star in all the sky,
Every one upon earth would know Giovanni!

Andrea.
I wish the mulberries were not past, that dozens
Might drop upon him, and might speckle over
His doublet: we should see it like a trout
To-morrow, white and crimson, and discover
The singer of this nonsense about light.

Fiammetta.
If you don't like it, pray don't listen to it.

Maria
(maliciously).
Then let us come away.

Fiammetta.
Pray do.

Maria
(taking her arm).
Come.

Fiammetta
(peevishly).
No.

Maria.
Listen! another song!

Fiammetta.
Hush! for Heaven's sake!
O! will you never listen? All this noise!

Maria.
Laughter might make some; smiles are much too silent.

Fiammetta.
Well; you have stopt him; are you now content?

Maria.
Quite, quite; if you are.

Fiammetta.
He begins again!
Hush! for the hope of Paradise! O hush!

Boccaccio
sings.
List! list ye to another tale!

Fiammetta.
No; he who dares tell one
To other ears than one's shall fail.

Boccaccio.
I sing for her alone.

Andrea.
I have a mind to be . .

Maria.
What? prince!

Andrea.
What? angry.

Maria.
Not you.

Andrea.
Not I? Why, who should hinder me?

Maria
(coaxing).
No, no; you won't be angry, prince!

Andrea.
I said
Half-angry, and resolve to keep my word.

Maria.
Anger is better, as pomegranates are,
Split into halves, and losing no small part.

Andrea.
I never heard such truth about pomegranates!
What was the other thing we reason'd on?
Ho! now I recollect, as you shall see.

[Goes: all follow.

SCENE VI.

GARDEN. Andrea, Maria, Fiammetta, and Boccaccio.
Andrea.
Keep back: where thieves may be, leave men alone.
Now for drawn swords! Where are they; slipt behind
The mulberry: wisely schemed! 'twon't do! come forth!
Yield! tremble like a poplar-leaf! Who art thou?

[Seizing Boccaccio.
Boccaccio.
King Robert, sir, respected me.

Andrea.
Did he?
Did he? Then far more highly should Andrea.
Sicily! treat him kindly. We may all,
Even you and I, commit an indiscretion.
How the stars twinkle! how the light leaves titter!
And there are secret quiverings in the herbs,
As if they all knew something of the matter,
And wisht it undisturb'd. To-night no harm
Shall happen to the worst man in Aversa.