Scene I.
A room in the ducal palace.
Marcello alone.
Marc.
I have them all at last; swan-necked Obedience;
And Power that strides across the muttering people,
Like a tall bridge; and War, the spear-maned dragon:—
Such are the potent spirits he commands,
Who sits within the circle of a crown!
Methought that love began at woman's eye:
But thou, bright imitation of the sun,
Kindlest the frosty mould around my heart-roots,
And, breathing through the branches of my veins,
Makest each azure tendril of them blossom
Deep, tingling pleasures, musically hinged,
Dropping with starry sparks, goldenly honied,
And smelling sweet with the delights of life.
At length I am Marcello.
Enter Ezril.
Ezr.
Mighty Duke,
Ferrara's nobles wait on you, to proffer
The homage of their coronets.
Marc.
I shall not see them.
Ezr.
It was the ancient usage of the state,
In every age.—
Marc.
Henceforth, be it forgotten!
I will not let the rabble's daily sight
Be my look's playmate. Say unto them, Ezril,
Their sovereigns of foretime were utter men,
False gods, that beat an highway in their thoughts
Before my car; idols of monarchy,
Whose forms they might behold. Now I am come,
Be it enough that they are taught my name,
Permitted to adore it, swear and pray
In it and to it: for the rest I wrap
The pillared caverns of my palace round me,
Like to a cloud, and rule invisibly
On the god-shouldering summit of mankind.
Dismiss them so.
Ezr.
'Tis dangerous,—
Marc.
Begone!
Each minute of man's safety he does walk
A bridge, no thicker than his frozen breath,
O'er a precipitous and craggy danger
Yawning to death!
[Exit Ezril.
A perilous sea it is,
'Twixt this and Jove's throne, whose tumultuous waves
Are heaped, contending ghosts! There is no passing,
But by those slippery, distant stepping-stones,
Which frozen Odin trod, and Mahomet,
With victories harnessed to his crescent sledge,
And building waves of blood upon the shallows,
O'erpassed triumphant: first a pile of thrones
And broken nations, then the knees of men,
From whence, to catch the lowest root of heaven,
We must embrace the winged waist of fame,
Or nest within opinion's palmy top
'Till it has mixed its leaves with Atlas' hair,
Quicker to grow than were the men of Cadmus—
Re-enter Ezril.
Ezr.
They are departing, with the unequal pace
Of discontent and wonder.
Marc.
Send them home
To talk it with their wives: sow them with books
Of midnight marvels, witcheries, and visions:
Let the unshaven Nazarite of stars
Unbind his wondrous locks, and grandame's earthquake
Drop its wide jaw; and let the church-yard's sleep
Whisper out goblins. When the fools are ripe
And gaping to the kernel, thou shalt steal,
And lay the egg of my divinity
In their fermenting sides.—Where is my brother?
The first I'll aim at.
Ezr.
'Mid the poisonous dregs of this deep building,
Two days and their two nights have had his breath
All of one colour to his darkened eyes.
No voice has fed his ears, and little food
His speech-robbed lips.
Marc.
'Tis well. This is a man
Whose state has sunk i'th' middle of his thoughts:
And in their hilly shade, as in a vale,
I'll build my church, making his heart the quarry.
Take him his meal, and place a guard around
The wood below: the rest of my instructions,
For we must juggle boldly, shall be whispered
Secretly in my closet.
Ezr.
Will you not
First cast this ragged and unseemly garb,
And hang your sides with purple?
Marc.
No: these rags
Give my delight a sting. I'll sit in them;
And, when I've stretched my dukedom through men's souls,
Fix on its shore my chair, and from it bid
Their doubts lie down.—Wilt help me?
Ezr.
Duke, thou art
A fathomless and undiscovered man,
Thinking above the eagle's highest wings,
And underneath the world. Go on: command:
And I am thine to do.
[Exeunt.
