Cosmo De' Medici An Historical Tragedy |
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 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
SCENE V.
A Gallery in the Ducal Palace.—Enter Garcia.Gar.
Sweet is the breath of morning in the woods,
Wherein, midst rapturous silence, lone we stand,
As tho' we had but stept from dream to dream.
Oh, when my couch is wet with blissful tears,
Again I view them in the glistening grass,
And know them shed for lov'd Ippolita!
I seldom now can rove with her alone,
As we were wont: Giovanni's varied talents
Amuse her mind; but I will strive to please her
Soon as he's gone: and since my mother hints
That high alliances for him are sought,
Let him be crown'd at once, so he but cease
To talk so oft with our sweet foster-sister.
She loves us both as brothers: 'tis not long
That I have known my soul's ascendant star
Burn'd high above a brother's level hopes;
Yet sure I always felt her more than sister?
But were I seated now with her alone
In some green arbour of dim loveliness,
How hard to frame in words the thousand things
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And in one minute tell her love's whole life!
Enter Duchess and Ippolita.
[They pause.]
Duch.
Look you—'tis Garcia! Is it not most strange,
The scorner of all studies thus so oft
With serious brow should root himself in thought?
Ippo.
Indeed 'tis strange.
Gar.
(abstractedly.)
How hath it multiplied
All memories!
Duch.
Soft! he speaks!
Ippo.
What said he, madam?
Gar.
Is not the sun, heaven's altar, always burning
An incense that illumines space and Time—
Gilding his path o'er graves, and his grey hairs,
For ever old, yet in his infancy!
O, star-light! be thou my temple!
Duch.
Hist! he is praying.
Gar.
And let the priestess be Ippolita!
Ippo.
What says he?
[They come forward.]
Gar.
(confused.)
And my mother—for the priestesses.
Duch.
It is a novel prayer which thou hast made,
Dear Garcia; yet all prayers are good alike,
When steep'd in holy feeling.
Ipp.
We do thank you
For the high office you have given us
Within your temple!
Gar.
Would it might be so!
Duch.
Since then we stand so fair in his regard,
We'll crave a boon of Garcia?
Ippo.
Ere it cool.
Gar.
Think'st me a cloud, or a wind?
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I hope thou'lt change
For once? Join pastimes with thy brother,
Since thou dost shun his studies.
Duch.
Say thou wilt?
Gar.
Pastimes! what pastimes?—botany and building,
Blowpipes, and telescopes to insult the stars,—
Call you these pastimes?
Duch.
Nay, you are wayward now:
You mock me most unkindly.
Gar.
Honour'd lady,
And dearest mother, how can we join in this?
For while he studies to reclaim men's souls,
I study hawking; or perchance I wander
With mine own thoughts.
Ipp.
Sure they are loving thoughts?
Gar.
They are: but mark!—my brother loves the cloister;
I love the study of the silent fields,
And boundless heavens full of nameless hopes,
As he the library and thoughts of books:
How can we join?
Duch.
See, see how thou mistak'st!
I spoke of fields: oh! I should joy to see
Thee with Giovanni make the forest ring
While ye did hunt together! Wilt thou go?
Gar.
Did he propose it?
Duch.
'Tis his ardent wish.
Gar.
With me?
Duch.
With thee.
Gar.
Why then, with all my heart!
Duch.
Ah! said I not so—said I not, he would!
Garcia—dear boy—thou giv'st my soul fresh wings:
The Duke will kiss my hands, for they have brought
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Send wine unto the falconer—tell the huntsman
To choose his hounds best trained to pin the boar,
And let the Ducal clarions blithely sound:
The Princes hunt to-morrow with the dawn!
[Clarions sound a hunting march outside, as all retire.
| Cosmo De' Medici | |