Cosmo De' Medici An Historical Tragedy |
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 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
SCENE II.
Public Gardens.—Enter Zacheo, disguised as a Friar.Zach.
I know not if this disguise hangs friar-wise
upon me; but one thing I know, I feel hugely uncomfortable
in it! I like to have my limbs free—full play
for the sword-arm—an uncovered brow—no impediment
to the advancing of the leg sinuously—and ample scope
throughout for every action that becomes a man and a
pirate! Whereas, my limbs seem to belong to my habiliments
rather than to myself, since I have no proper use
of them; and the captain of the boldest crew that ever
ground a blade by torch-light, while their black galley
rode like a sleeping cormorant over the billows, is now
as much in his own way as an armadillo in a bag! 'Sdeath!
I cannot endure this much longer; and yet I must bear
it too,—at least until I can discover what is in agitation
against us. This city-hatched storm has been brewing
over our decks some time, and has occasionally broke out
have been captured, and the crews hung up like dried
fish in the sun; but now the Duke seems resolved to drive
us off the coast of Tuscany for ever. My best line of
trade seems in a fair way of being destroyed during the
reign of this troublesome Prince, who will not let things
go on in their natural course. Pirates have existed in all
countries from time immemorial: we are as natural to the
sea as her tides, or the moon,—bless her old white face!
How could there be spring or neap without us? Ah!
some pretty women! I'll speak to them under favour of
my cassock.
Enter Berta and Christina.
Bert.
This way, Christine—follow me;—there!
under that old trunk, standing in its bed of golden moss
and long grass, we shall find the sweetest flowers, nestling
out of sight—What a strange-looking man!
Zach.
(aside.)
By Mahomet! and they are very
pretty! I wish we were near the sea-coast!
Chris.
It's only some begging friar.
Bert.
A begging nonsense!—he's much more likely
to take than ask—and yet he is frocked something the
colour of a friar.
Chris.
He is in preparation to speak with us, as I
live!—shall we run away?
Bert.
I don't know, Christine.
Chris.
Shall we, eh?
Bert.
No; not yet—we'll e'en hear first what he says;
and we can laugh in his face very prettily, and then run
away.
Zach.
(aside.)
Should I begin with a benediction,
near the sea-coast!
Chris.
What's the matter with him?
Zach.
(advancing.)
Soft blessed ladies—
Bert. and Chris.
(laughing.)
Soft ladies!
Zach.
(aside.)
They laugh at me!—Do the hoof and
tail-tip peep out, Catholic-fashion, at the hem o' this
holiness?
Bert.
(aside.)
Poor man!
Chris.
Couldst confess thyself fully in the ear of such
a black-beard?
Zach.
(aside.)
By Allah! but I'll get my manhood
afloat.
(aloud.)
Handsome young women—that is, fair
daughters of Florence!—these fresh-favoured gardens owe
all their sweetness and bright life to your breath and presence.
When you are gone, they will be no better than
shingles and sea-weed!
Bert.
Well, what a pleasant man! Some of these
monks have wherewithal to set themselves off. Good
day to the holy father!—give your Carmelite reverence
good day!
Zach.
(aside.)
My reverence!
Chris.
Has your piety lately arrived in Florence?
Zach.
Ahem!—(They take me for the Pope, just
arrived.) I laugh with joy to behold such sweet happy
faces—they are so very different from the sad crew of
nuns I am used to.
Bert.
The nuns he is used to!
Chris.
Then you think, holy friar, that we are not
like unhappy nuns?
Zach.
As unlike as a woman is to a mermaid
(advancing
towards Berta)
. You have a lovely warm complexion
of morning roses, which mermaids have not,—their cheeks
bright as the finest gold I ever handled (touches it; she
retreats a pace)
; while their's is only a stream of long
tearful grass; you have very pretty feet, and, I make no
doubt, with proper legs to match; and you are totally
deficient in the sweeping rudder of a green scaly tail!
Chris. and Bert.
Oh!
Bert.
I am very glad to hear your piety say so.
Chris.
What a very strange sort of a friar!
Zach.
In short, you are as sweet a vessel as ever
pirate would wish to set foot upon.
Bert. and Chris.
Oh! what says he?
Zach.
I only meant that there were such fellows as
pirates in the world, who would give their ears to have
met you near the coast.
Bert.
Ah, marry would they!—or anywhere else.
Zach.
I begin to forget myself as I look upon you!
Chris.
What a confession for a confessor!
Bert.
(to Chris.)
See you not the wretch is making
love to me! I shall complain angrily to my husband, you
wicked holy father, an' you talk in this fashion so freely!
Zach.
No, no—you won't.
Chris.
But we will though! we'll both enlighten our
husbands. They are gentlemen of note and station about
the Duke's court, and they'll have you sent back to your
monastery with your nose cut off!
Bert.
And your naughtiness might think yourself
very fortunate that it was no worse.
Zach.
(aside.)
Oho! the court of the Grand Duke!
now shall I get my soundings at small cost of time, and
learn what preparations are under weigh against the gallant
band of Barbary corsairs, to circumvent our natural living.
Bert.
(aside.)
Christine—O, an' I dare do't?
(aside.)
Dare what?
Bert.
Let him exhale love-sighs! 'Twould be rare
pleasantry.
Chris.
Yes, yes, in sooth! And what say you, should
I let him make love to me also; you not seeming to see't?
Bert.
And we will both pretend, besides, to be, in a
sort, not displeased with his ugliness?
Chris.
We will—we will.
Bert.
Ahem!—Good day, holy friar.
Chris.
We bear your reverence no malice,—heaven
forgive us!
Zach.
May I not walk a pace in the same path with
two such lovely gentlewomen?
Bert.
Yes; as the father is strange in Florence, we'll
e'en show him the nearest pathway out of the gardens.
Zach.
And your husbands are stars of the Duke's
court?
Bert.
Yes—and they're out of sight just now.
[Exeunt.
| Cosmo De' Medici | |