 | A Legend of Florence |  |
SCENE III.
Another Room in Agolanti's house. Ginevra, Olimpia, Diana, Colonna, and Da Riva, discovered sitting. Fiordilisa standing behind her lady's chair.Olimpia.
Dearest Lady Ginevra, to remain
Shut up when all the world are at the windows,
Or otherwise owning the great common joy,
Is clearly impossible.—Observe now, pray:—
On Friday the Pope comes; Saturday, chapel
At the Annunziata;—Sunday, at Saint Lorenzo;
Monday, the chase; Tuesday, the race; Wednesday,
The tilts and drama; and on Thursday he goes.
So there's six lives for you; a life a day,
To make you well again, and merry, and careless.
Colonna.
Most vital arguments!
Ginevra.
Too vital, may-be.
Remember, Lady Olimpia, I have been ill;—
I am but getting better; and such draughts
Of pleasure and amazement, pour'd unceasing,
Might drown the little faculties of poor me.
18
One day—could you not try one day, and then
Enjoy, or fear another, as it suited?
Olimpia.
Ay, one—one—one. Try but one day, and then
Trust me if one day would not give you strength
For pretty little two, and prettier three.
Da Riva.
And, madam, the first day is both the noblest
And the most gentle,—a flow of princely draperies
Through draperied streets; bringing us, it is true,
Emotion, but yet soothing it, and blessing
With sacred hand. Weakness itself is touch'd
At ceremonial sights like these, with sweet
And no unstrengthening tears, bathing humility
In heavenly reassurance. And, dear lady,
'Twill give a nature, so composed as yours
With Christian grace and willing cheerfulness,
A joy at once sacred, and earthly, and charming,
To see the face of the accomplish'd man
Whom Providence, most potent seen when mildest,
Has raised to be the prince of Christendom
In this our day, when wit is questioning faith,
And mild religion answers with his eyes
Of charity, the unanswerable conclusion.
Colonna.
Da Riva, I am to bring thy verse and thee
To his Beatitude's most knowing knowledge;
But do thou step before me, and speak thus,
And thou art made a cardinal.
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Is his Holiness
So very and so beautifully gracious
To eloquence and letters?
Colonna.
I'faith, madam,
Our blessed Father seems to be of opinion,
That whatsoever good or beauty exists
Must needs belong, like angels, to the church;
And as he finds them, where severer men
(Not the best judges of angels) might o'erlook them,
He makes us know them better; bids them come
Forth from the crowd, and show their winged wits,
And rise, and sit within his princely beams.
Olimpia.
Come;—you accord? you cannot resist reasons
Sweet as all these? and to say truth, there is
One gentle reason more, which must convince you.
We want your husband's windows, lady mine;—
They face the veriest heaven of all the streets
For seeing the procession; and how can we
Enter that paradise of a balcony
Without the house's angel? What would people
Say to the intruders, you not being there?
Ginevra.
Oh, nothing very unseasonable, be sure;
Nor what the lilies and roses in their cheeks,
And wit in their eyes, could not refute most happily.
Well, dear Diana, should my husband's judgment
Encourage me to think my health would bear it,
I would fain venture, but—I hear him coming.
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Fill'd with your pleasures; the report of which
Will afterwards make them mine.
[Enter Agolanti.
Sir, the ladies
Olimpia and Diana you know well;
Also a name honour'd by all, Da Riva;
Be pleased to know their friend, a courteous gentleman
From Rome, the Signor Cesare Colonna.
Agolanti.
He's welcome, for his friend's sake, and his own.
I trust our holy Father keeps his health, sir,
In this his gracious journey?
Colonna.
Sir, he holds him,
As his good habit is, in blest condition,
To the great joy of all that love good men
And sovereign church.
Agolanti.
You hold, sir, I perceive,
Some happy office near his sacred person?
Colonna.
One of the poor captains of his guard, sir;
Nor near enough to make the fortune proud,
Nor yet so far removed as not to share
Some grace of recognition.
Agolanti.
I may not envy you:
But I may be allow'd to think such fortune
As happy, as 'tis worthily bestow'd.
Pardon me; but this lady's delicate health
Will warrant some small trespass on your courtesies.
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How fares it with my love these last three hours?
Ginevra.
(Cheerfully.)
Thanks—I do very well.
Olimpia.
I fear we have tired her
Somewhat, with our loud talk, Signor Francesco.
Ginevra.
No; 'tis like bright health come to talk with us:
Is it not? (To her husband.)
Agolanti.
(Aside.)
She knows I hate it.—Lady Olimpia
Brings ever a sprightly stirring to the spirit,
And her fair friend a balm. (Aside to Ginevra.)
What want they now,
This flaunter and this insipidity?
Ginevra.
(Aloud.)
Our neighbour and her friends bring a petition,
That it would please you to convenience them
With your fair windows for the coming spectacle;
Yourself, if well enough, doubling the grace
With your good company.
Agolanti.
(Aside.)
I thought as much.
At every turn my will is to be torn from me,
And at her soft suggestion. (Aloud.)
My windows
Cannot be better fill'd, than with such beauty,
And wit and modest eloquence.
Colonna.
(Aside to Da Riva.)
Is he sneering?
Or is his zeal, and fame for polite manners,
Proving itself, in spite of his own teeth?
Sharpening its edge upon this oily venom?
22
Somewhat of both; he sneers, because he hates us;
And would not have it seen, because he fears us.
His will and vanity count on our obtuseness,
Just as it suits them. (Agolanti and the Ladies talk apart.)
Colonna.
Noticed you how pale
The unhappy lady turn'd, when the song ended,
And she bade shut the door?
Da Riva.
She's paler now.
Let's interrupt him.—Good Signor Francesco,
We thank you much; but windows, friends, and spectacle,
And, let us add, warranted by his love,
Husband and all, would miss the topmost flower
Of our delight, were this sweet lady absent;
And she has threaten'd us with the cruel chance,
Unless your better knowledge of her health
Think better, than herself, of its free right.
Agolanti.
Oh Sir, it were impossible to know
A lady better than she knows herself.
What say you, Madam? (To Ginevra.)
Ginevra.
The best thought of all,
Perhaps, were to await the time's arrival,
And see how I feel then.
Agolanti.
Truly, methinks,
A discreet judgment, and approved by all
Who set the lady's welfare above all,
As we in this room do.
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And every one
That knows her,—unless it be the devil himself.
Manners forgive my uttering his name
In such good company. Dearest Ginevra,
Come you with me. A word with you in private,
As we descend. And we'll request these gentlemen
To clear our way before us.
Colonna and Da Riva.
A fair day
To Signor Agolanti, and may fairer
Befall us this day week. (Going.)
Olimpia.
Yes, Signor mine,
Be sure you make your wife well by that day,
With some transcendent charmingness; or none
But envious wives, and horrible old men,
Will think you the good spouse you are, or let you
Have any peace.
Agolanti.
(Fiercely to his wife as she is going.)
What insolence is this,
And woman's plot? Be in the purple chamber
In twenty minutes. Do you hear me speak?
(He wrings her hand sharply, and she makes signs of obedience.)
A fair day to my courteous visitors,
And may they ever have the joy they bring.
[Exeunt.
| A Legend of Florence | |