Cosmo De' Medici An Historical Tragedy |
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| 2. | SCENE II. |
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 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
SCENE II.
A thicket in the Forest.—Cornelio, Dalmasso, and other Gentlemen, seated beneath a tree, regaling themselves.Cor.
There is no luxury equal to it! When you are
very tired and exceeding hungry, to rest those limbs
that have so faithfully borne your stomach about all day,
while the aforesaid stomach, as in duty bound, taketh
turn of exercise and servitude for the benefit of his indefatigable
members, there's no epicurean feast that gives
such pleasure, and no act of gratitude a greater satisfaction!
Dal.
A more lasting one is possible;—but come!
you hold fast the neck of the wine-flaggon while you talk,
and keep the venison under your fork. Push them this
way!
Cor.
I protest I was not conscious thereof!
Dal.
Like enough; but everybody else was.
1st Gent.
There's nothing equal to forest-cookery!
Besides, you can replenish your dish from the
next thicket. Which now, gentlemen, do ye think the
best; the game that runs, or the game that flies?
Dal.
That flies away, do you mean?
Cor.
No, no; but which?
2nd Gent.
Why, if you were very sharp set, that
game is best which you can first catch.
Cor.
Dalmasso, I'll meet thy question. I think that
game best which flies away: it leaves so much to the
imagination.
All.
Ha! ha! ha!—it does—it does!
Cor.
Dalmasso—here's more venison.
Dal.
Not a morsel—I hate the sight of it!
All.
Oh! oh!
Dal.
I'm an exhausted receiver.
Cor.
I think you must be, by this time.
Dal.
'Tis well I have escaped all vile conceits in the
shape of a retort; but hand me yon flask instead—I wish
to try an experiment with its neck.
1st Gent.
He's getting pleasant with his chemistry!
Dal.
A tri-unal content now fills my carbonic trunk:
an oxy-hydrogenico-azotic perfection!
Cor.
What jargon of science is this?
Dal.
Jargon to you, I make no doubt: ahem!
Cor.
What do you mean, sir?—explain your “hem!”
1st Gent.
Explain, sir!
2nd Gent.
Enlighten us!
Cor.
Expose your darkness! No response? He
blossoms inward, like the fig: its best beauty, both of
colour and taste, is the inside of the bottle.
Dal.
Go to! what know you of taste or colour?
Cor.
Thus much by negation: your wit hath no
more colour than the nails and knee-caps of a drowned
in white chalk on a ghost's forehead. If once in the
year it entertain a touch of colouring, 'tis green as a colt's
nether lip when the day-break fields are reeking. As to
thy taste—another wedge o' the pasty; thank you—
1st Gent.
Mass! how you do eat!
Cor.
As to your taste, 'tis my belief, were a dozen
Pharaoh-mummies chemically expressed in a stick of
Spanish liquorice, the very conceit of it would make
you glory in the suction!
Dal.
Oh, antithetical sublimation of humanity! Do
I sit here to be insulted by the pictures of thine own
squinting fantasy?
Cor.
No; you sit here to eat and drink, like the rest
of us.
Dal.
Do I, sir?
Cor.
Yes; and apparently by some great law.
Dal.
Ahem!—the day wears.
(Rising suddenly.)
Where can the Princes be?
All rise hastily.
Cor.
I'faith, they must be lost!
Dal.
What's best to do?
Cor.
You said that if with patience here we sat
They soon would find us!
Dal.
Did I say so? 'Twas you—
Surely 'twas you, sir,—you that first propos'd
Refreshment 'neath the tree! I'd fain have search'd
The forest thro', to find them!
Cor.
Pshaw! not you.
Dal.
Not I, sir? come, explain yourself!
[Lays his hand upon his sword.
These gentlemen know well that you do wrong me!
Cor.
What I have said, sir—
All.
Here's Prince Garcia!
[A pause of silence ensues.
Dal.
We do rejoice to see you here, my lord:
We search'd till quite exhausted.
Cor.
Quite worn out!
Where is my lord Giovanni—close at hand?
Gar.
(calmly).
Is he not here?
All.
No!—no!
Dal.
Where did you leave him?
Cor.
Where, my lord?
Gar.
I know not.
Think ye this forest, gentlemen, like a city,
That I can name its windings and dark walls,
Its gaps, high mounds, and green enclosures? Surely
Ye do but jest—he's hidden to alarm me?
Dal.
Where?—what is this!
Cor.
Indeed he is not here!
Gar.
Come, stand aside—
(He passes through, looking behind the group, as if in search.)
Well, if he be not with ye,
Take blame unto yourselves, so ill to 'tend him!
Ye knew him unaccustom'd to this place:
He hath seldom hunted here.
Dal.
What must we do?
Cor.
We lost you both together:
Where did you see him last?
Gar.
In the forest
I left him somewhere—there it was we parted.
(Aside.)
I can endure no longer.
(Abruptly.)
Fools that we are!
He is, ere this, in Florence!
All.
Right!—no doubt!
Cor.
I see 'tis so; and on his downy bed,
Half dress'd, yet needing rest before the dance,
Is sleeping soundly?
Gar.
(aside).
Oh! on the cold, hard earth
He sleeps—too soundly!
Cor.
Let us straight return!
All.
Agreed—away! let's haste!
[Exeunt, all but Dalmasso and a Huntsman.
Dal.
Stay you with me!
Ere night-fall we must search the forest depths
In the same track the ardent princes sped
When last we saw them; for I much do fear
Some accident:—I know not what to think!
[Exeunt.
| Cosmo De' Medici | |