Cosmo De' Medici An Historical Tragedy |
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 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
SCENE I.
The Piazza del Granduca.—Luigi del Passato, seated among some statues.Pass.
I have forgotten my fatigue of limbs
Among the works of Art. Long was my journey,
And somewhat grievous in the lack of means;
But patient hearts oft sleep away their cares
Upon an empty scrip, and rove in dream
Thro' the antique Age of Gold. I am content.
Fair Florence, hail!—had I no hopes beside,
The hope of years is satisfied. 'Tis said
Duke Cosmo is a patron of large mind,
And friendly hand: perchance he may extend it,
Although Passato's name be little known.
Enter Cornelio and Dalmasso.
Cor.
I pant for it!—the earth is made the sun,
While the bright anniversary of our Order
Spreads luminous gold; and magic masquerade
Fills the chang'd world and gives us all new parts!
Dal.
A traveller!—and, methinks, no common man?
2
He wears his soil'd mantle with a kind of grace;
Not courtly, but still graceful. Come you from far?
Pass.
(advancing.)
From Carthage, sir: my father was of Florence;
But this is my first visit.
Cor.
Ah! the loadstone
That stirs your metal hath sure influence:
St Etienne's festival—is't not, I pray you?
Pass.
No, sir, indeed. I am a lonesome man,
And find most pleasure in my loneliness.
My life has passed in study midst old ruins,
And monuments of glories now no more.
Dal.
Art thou a sculptor, then?
Pass.
'Tis my best hope.
Cor.
Thy name, sir?
Pass.
An obscure one—del Passato.
Dal.
Methinks I once did hear Duke Cosmo praise thee
For a small medallion of some dying saint.
Thou'lt find an open passage to the court.
Pass.
I thank you, sir; but as I ne'er was sanguine,
Sad disappointment seldom reaches me:
I live in truce with fate, and we are friends.
Yet am I grateful to you for the greeting.
Cor.
Nay, you are hard of faith in courts!
Pass.
I am, sir.
Cor.
This is rude bitterness: we are of the court!
Pass.
Let me entreat your pardon, and receive it:
I knew not that.
Cor.
Do not our vestments show it?
Know'st not kingfishers' plumes from hides of sheep?
Pass.
I did not note them: ye are of good form;
Not perfect, certainly, yet outlin'd well;
3
My natural bent of sight.
Dal.
The Duke shall hear
That you're in Florence: he hath ever shown
A high and practical sympathy with genius.
The studious prince, Giovanni, we shall join
Within an hour;—you'll bear us company?
He is a prince whom you will love and honour
For fine acquirements and demeanour sweet:
His virtues win all hearts.
Cor.
Except his brother's.
Pass.
Wherefore the exception, pray you?
Dal.
'Tis an old story,
Which every teller varies to his mind,
And ne'er relates it twice alike.
Pass.
Then might I
Invent a version for myself?
Dal.
You might, sir.
Some say that Garcia's coldness to his brother
Is but a crystal from Giovanni's ice,
And hence congealment mutual is preserved;
While others, and myself among them, deem
That Garcia's envy of his brother's worth
Makes fret-work o'er his early-winter'd heart,
And no bland gushes leap to proffer'd love.
Pass.
Doth then Giovanni love him?
Cor.
Nay, how should he?
Think you the vine-pole to the north blast yearns?
Who can love hatred?
Pass.
They both hate alike?
Dal.
Not so; nor can we know it by such name:
Each would do aught, right glad, to serve the other,
4
And both peculiar natures. Many say
That Cosmo favours much his elder born;
Forwards his studies with especial eye
To some great destiny; that from their cradles
He show'd this preference,—to the Duchess' care
Leaving young Garcia ever. But 'tis prov'd
He was unapt—opposed to all instruction;
Hating to learn, yet anxious to be taught;
Wishing to know by inspiration: in fact,
A wilful child left to his waywardness.
His too fond mother, thinking he was slighted,
Pamper'd, until too late to give him check;
And thus he hath grown up.
Cor.
Grown up!—why, scarcely:
He hath no tint of hair upon his chin;
No sign of manhood yet in dress or bearing!
Dal.
From his fair face his mother still looks out,
And smiles around his mouth—or, rather, sighs.
Pass.
Whate'er the cause that parts these brothers' hearts,
With all the trifling acts and circumstance
That have combin'd against their natures thus,
Manhood will doubtless chase the feud to air,—
E'en as a giant, waking from dark dreams,
Looks up and sees the perfect heavens above,
And hails their steadfast glory.
Dal.
It may be so.
Yet do I doubt young Garcia: he is strange;
He makes no friends, laughs seldom, loves few sports,
And latterly hath wander'd quite alone,
Just like a lover, or some ruin'd man.
Cor.
No gallantries of his are yet recorded,
5
If's blood can't rise beneath Duke Cosmo's eye,
Why not midst country maidens havoc make,
And cause a strange commotion of all tongues,
As when a kite above a farm-yard soars?
Dal.
You recommend a high morality:
It should be set to music.
Cor.
For the organ?
Pass.
(calmly.)
Ay, with the devil, sir, to fill your pipes,
And turn your leaves, and kiss you in the face!
Cor.
Ahem!—let's haste, for Prince Giovanni now
Hath left Chiostro's study.
Dal.
(to Pass.)
He will receive you.
Cor.
(aside.)
My wit chills, near this marble-minded man.
Pass.
I like young Garcia.
Dal.
You would say Giovanni;
The model of all excellence!
Pass.
I doubt not.
Yet I was thinking of the younger son.
Dal.
This is some mood of eccentricity!
Cor.
Is't not the young prince Garcia standing there,
Before Lorenzo's bust? His back is tow'rds us.
Dal.
Yes, it is he: this way he comes. Now, sir,
Will you accompany us?
Pass.
Please you, I'll stay.
I shall be grateful if you'll introduce me.
Dal.
'Tis true he hath his mother's ear, which oft
Is close to the Duke's—but Garcia will not serve you.
Cor.
He cares not for the Arts.
Pass.
It is his loss.
Cor.
And hates a chisel as a learned tongue;
Or as a nose hates frost, and frost a thaw.
Pass.
He is a youth I like to look upon.
6
Cor.
Bright skies attend my lord; give you good day!
Gar.
(smiling.)
I thank the skies: sometimes they frown upon us,
But they are ever great and lofty.
Cor.
My lord,
That is most true; albeit our hopes below
Are oft as flat as a pond.
Gar.
Drown not thy soul,
Like a blind whelp: hast thou no birthright, sir?
[Pointing upwards.
Dal.
We joy to see you walking in the sun:
'Tis not your constant pleasure.
Gar.
Nor my pride:
But for your courteous greeting take my thanks,
Full measured by your own sincerity.
Shall I enquire the stranger's rank?
Dal.
A sculptor:
Luigi del Passato.
Gar.
He is welcome:
The Duke, sir, and my brother, will receive
Your visit graciously.
Cor.
(aside to Dal.)
Now we'll take wing,
And leave the chisel to our royal flint!
Dal.
My lord will pardon our abrupt departure:
We have a summons.
Gar.
Cavaliers, good day!
[Exeunt Cornelio and Dalmasso.
(To Pass.)
They shun me, for they are my brother's friends,
And go by instinct: follow them, I pray;
The favor of Giovanni best will serve you.
Pass.
I am no hasty man. I'll e'en stay here.
7
Thou canst know little of the Court, to give
This preference to me. All who seek favour,
Appreciation, and due patronage,
Make interest with Giovanni: they do right.
He hath most brilliant talents—I have none;
Gentle and courteous is—'tis plain I'm neither.
So many say this, I suppose 'tis true.
Pass.
I'll wait my time.
Gar.
I deem thou'dst wait for ever
In any other Court, by such neglect.
Pass.
Those gentlemen were courtiers,—so they said?
Gar.
And truly. Sir, I will be free with you,
For you do show a nature undisguis'd,
And act as if alone in the wide world.
Pass.
I speak my thoughts, young sir, and calmly stand
On the vast slab of Time: a mere clay figure,
And not a pendent gem.
Gar.
Those gentlemen
Are called Dalmasso and Cornelio.
The first, a man of sense; yet I dislike him:
He reasons and retreats; he bows too low,
And studies chemistry to please the Duke.
The other hath a wit beyond himself;
Its spirit uttering things he knows not whence,
Why, how, or whither; a rich-fancied fool:
His vanity revolves around a button,
Wherein he suns and glasses his fond face.
Pass.
Leave him his happiness: why shake the flower
Within whose cup of dew the butterfly
Beholds his plumage, and is blest? The earth
Hath pleasures varied to its motley crowd;
Let us not interfere.
Gar.
Sir, will you walk with me?
8
Like new-born hopes: I seem at last to have found
A book which I would read most seriously.
Come, you shall be my tutor and my friend.
Garcia and Luigi del Passato:
Enter, to them, Dalmasso and Giovanni.
Gio.
Garcia, 'twere well if thou'd'st bethink thyself
That youth's bright spring-tide tends to autumn's shade,
And manhood, to be high and honourable,
Needs preparation.
Gar.
Sir, what moves your mind
To this precocious lecture?
Gio.
Your life's waste.
Gar.
My elder by three years! Go, grey-green sir!
Your olive-leaf of wisdom needs more sun.
I cannot, and I will not bear your rod!
Gio.
Who is this new acquaintance?
Gar.
He is my friend:
That is enough, good brother.
Pass.
Thank you, sir!
Gio.
Found in the streets—the friend of half an hour!
Rude boy, thou must be taught to know thyself,
Ere thou can'st choose—a friend.
Gar.
Peace, sir!
Dal.
My lords!
Gar.
Am I to walk, talk, think as you direct—
Eat, drink, and sneeze in your approved good fashion—
Sleep in your attitude, and dream your dream?
I'd rather make my bed upon a wasp's nest!
Gio.
Thou dost already; and thro' the spleenful day
Bear'st it about, as madmen play with fire.
Gar.
As elder brothers play!
Dal.
My lords! my lords!
Gar.
This gentleman and I will leave your wisdom.
Gio.
Go then, thy way: feed folly, and find shame!
[Exeunt at opposite sides.
| Cosmo De' Medici | |