Cosmo De' Medici An Historical Tragedy |
 | 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 5. |
| 1. | SCENE I. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
SCENE I.
The Piazza del Granduca.—Enter Chiostro, Cornelio, Macchietti and Dalmasso.Cor.
How 'twas, I know not.
Macc.
You pursued them close?
Cor.
We did; but at the doubling of a wall
We lost them quite. Mass! and they did it well.
Macc.
'Tis manifest, from what our wives have told us,
Confessing all the mischief of their mirth,
Those friars are rascals.
Chios.
Sir, your recognition
Would seem to prove them corsairs, from the coast.
But wherefore come they here?
Cor.
That must we learn—
When we can catch them. But the Prince Giovanni—
How fares he, sir, to-day?—when comes he forth?
Chios.
I have not seen him: access is denied
To all, by the Duke's orders. Much I fear
Some dangerous fever.
Macc.
Heaven preserve his life!
Cor.
(to Dal.)
You are silent, sir!
88
I!—I am very merry—that's to say, calm.
Cor.
Calm at the Prince's illness?
Dal.
(aside).
Worry me not:
His cause of sickness is a court-secret!
Cor.
Oh!—
(Aloud).
Those friars we'll trap: but, tell me, gentlemen,
What of Don Garcia's conduct should we think?
First seen with one who doth appear their chief;
And, as I've learnt this morn, some peasants met him,
Ere day-break near the forest, with all three,
In social conversation laughing loud,
With face the hue of marble in the moon,
And earth-marks on his knees! What can we think?
Dal.
Said you not, soon as he did see the peasants,
He join'd them eagerly?
Cor.
And left the friars,
Or corsairs, as they'll prove—standing perplex'd,
Without so much as bidding them good day;
Nor look'd he once behind, but hurried on,
So that the rest could scarce keep up with him!
Chio.
'Tis but his wilful way; there's naught more in it.
Cor.
Naught more!
Macc.
What, then?
Dal.
Sir, shall we know your thoughts?
Cor.
Nor friars nor corsairs are for him fit peers.
Now, gentlemen, I'll tell you candidly—
Without the least false harmony of disguise,
Or any counter-thought beneath my words—
Upon my soul I know not what to think!
Dal.
I know what one might think.
Cor.
What?
Macc.
What, my lord?
Dal.
I shall inform the Duke.
89
Nay, so shall I:
I have a thoughtful tongue.
Chios.
(smiling).
My lords, we'll leave ye
To settle who shall teach what neither know.
[Exeunt Chiostro and Macchietti.
Cor.
Your hand, sir! I was rude to you i' the forest.
Dal.
And elsewhere, oftentimes.
Cor.
We are old friends.
You are a gentleman whom all respect
Most justly.
Dal.
Thank you, sir—for speaking truth.
Cor.
Come, tell me now: what of the prince Giovanni?
Is he, indeed, so ill?
Dal.
He might be worse.
Cor.
Fever!—can Emperor's daughters drug the wind
With influential beauty? Hath he ta'en
A fever of love?
Dal.
I know not of such fever.
Cor.
Cold sensual! walking nose of Ovid's bust!
Why vent'st thou intermittent speech from lips
Blue as a monk's within his marble pulpit,
Preaching for charity at Christmas-tide!
Dal.
In vain you rail, sir!
Cor.
Nay—let's be serious.
If he should die?
Dal.
(looking round, and lowering his voice).
Talk not of that.
Cor.
Why not?
Dal.
Because death is an endless argument;
Or, if it hath an end, 'twere best not sought.
Deep thoughts are ever dangerous, and our fancies
Not precipice-proof a whit more than our bodies.
E'en as yon river parts the city in two,
So reason divides judgment.
90
Wreck'd o' both shores.
Tut! death's the Ducal cosmographic clock,
Striking the world's mutations—we don't feel it:
Or like Achilles' shield; a populous round:
It quoits down thousands for the one it saves.
Let's to our dinners!
Dal.
I have a heavy heart.
Cor.
Think you this sleeve becomes me?
Dal.
The fogs rise!
Cor.
Loose—and appropriate?
Dal.
Ugh!—I am cold.
[Exeunt.
| Cosmo De' Medici | |