Time: Afternoon of same
day. SCENE: Lucrezia’s Laboratory.
Retorts, test-tubes, etc. On small Renaissance
table, up c., is a great poison-bowl, the contents
of which are being stirred by the first APPRENTICE.
The second APPRENTICE stands by, watching him.
SECOND APP.
For whom is the brew destin’d?
First APP.
I
know not.
Lady Lucrezia did but lay on me
Injunctions as regards the making of ’t,
The which I have obey’d. It is compounded
Of a malignant and a deadly weed
Found not save in the Gulf of Spezia,
And one small phial of ’t, I am advis’d,
Were more than ’nough to slay a regiment
Of Messer Malatesta’s condottieri
In all their armour.
SECOND APP.
I
can well believe it.
Mark how the purple bubbles froth upon
The evil surface of its nether slime!
[Enter LUC.]
LUC. [To first APP.]
Is ’t done, Sir Sluggard?
First APP.
Madam,
to a turn.
LUC.
Had it not been so, I with mine own hand
Would have outpour’d it down thy gullet, knave.
See, here’s a ring of cunningly-wrought gold
That I, on a dark night, did purchase from
A goldsmith on the Ponte Vecchio.
Small was his shop, and hoar of visage he.
I did bemark that from the ceiling’s beams
Spiders had spun their webs for many a year,
The which hung erst like swathes of gossamer
Seen in the shadows of a fairy glade,
But now most woefully were weighted o’er
With gather’d dust. Look well now at the
ring!
Touch’d here, behold, it opes a cavity
Capacious of three drops of yon fell stuff.
Dost heed? Whoso then puts it on his finger
Dies, and his soul is from his body rapt
To Hell or Heaven as the case may be.
Take thou this toy and pour the three drops in.
[Hands ring to first APP. and comes down c.]
So, Sav’narola, thou shalt learn that I
Utter no threats but I do make them good.
Ere this day’s sun hath wester’d from
the view
Thou art to preach from out the Loggia
Dei Lanzi to the cits in the Piazza.
I, thy Lucrezia, will be upon the steps
To offer thee with phrases seeming-fair
That which shall seal thine eloquence for ever.
O mighty lips that held the world in spell
But would not meet these little lips of mine
In the sweet way that lovers use—O thin,
Cold, tight-drawn, bloodless lips, which natheless
I
Deem of all lips the most magnifical
In this our city—
[Enter the Borgias’ fool.]
Well, Fool, what’s
thy latest?
Fool Aristotle’s or Zeno’s,
Lady—’tis neither latest nor last.
For, marry, if the cobbler stuck to his last, then
were his latest his last in rebus ambulantibus.
Argal, I stick at nothing but cobble-stones, which,
by the same token, are stuck to the road by men’s
fingers.
LUC.
How many crows may nest in a grocer’s jerkin?
Fool
A full dozen at cock-crow, and something less under
the dog-star, by
reason of the dew, which lies heavy on men taken by
the scurvy.
LUC. [To first APP.]
Methinks the Fool is a fool.
Fool
And therefore, by auricular deduction, am I own twin
to the Lady
Lucrezia!
[Sings.]
When pears hang green on the garden wall
With a nid, and a nod, and a niddy-niddy-o
Then prank you, lads and lasses all,
With a yea and a nay and a
niddy-o.
But when the thrush flies out o’ the frost
With a nid, [etc.]
’Tis time for loons to count the cost,
With a yea [etc.]
[Enter the porter.]
PORTER
O my dear Mistress, there is one below
Demanding to have instant word of thee.
I told him that your Ladyship was not
At home. Vain perjury! He would not take
Nay for an answer.
LUC.
Ah?
What manner of man
Is he?
PORTER
A
personage the like of whom
Is wholly unfamiliar to my gaze.
Cowl’d is he, but I saw his great eyes glare
From their deep sockets in such wise as leopards
Glare from their caverns, crouching ere they spring
On their reluctant prey.
LUC.
And
what name gave he?
PORTER [After a pause.]
Something-arola.
LUC.
Savon-?
Fool If he be right astronomically,
Mistress, then is he the greater dunce in respect
of true learning, the which goes by the globe.
Argal, ’twere better he widened his wind-pipe.
[Sings.]
Fly home, sweet self,
Nothing’s for weeping,
Hemp was not made
For lovers’ keeping, Lovers’ keeping,
Cheerly, cheerly, fly away.
Hew no more wood
While ash is glowing,
The longest grass
Is lovers’ mowing,
Lovers’ mowing,
Cheerly, [etc.]
[Re-enter porter, followed by
SAV. Exeunt porter, fool, and first
and second APPS.]
SAV.
I am no more a monk, I am a man
O’ the world.
[Throws off cowl and frock, and stands forth in the
costume of a
Renaissance nobleman. Lucrezia looks him
up and down.]
LUC.
Thou
cutst a sorry figure.
SAV.
That
Is neither here nor there. I love you, Madam.
LUC.
And this, methinks, is neither there nor here,
For that my love of thee hath vanished,
Seeing thee thus beprankt. Go pad thy calves!
Thus mightst thou, just conceivably, with luck,
Capture the fancy of some serving-wench.
SAV.
And this is all thou hast to say to me?
LUC.
It is.
SAV.
I
am dismiss’d?
LUC.
Thou
art.
SAV.
’Tis
well.
Savonarola is himself once more.
LUC.
And all my love for him returns to me
A thousandfold!
SAV.
Too
late! My pride of manhood
Is wounded irremediably. I’ll
To the Piazza, where my flock awaits me.
Thus do we see that men make great mistakes
But may amend them when the conscience wakes.
LUC.
I’m half avenged now, but only half:
’Tis with the ring I’ll have the final
laugh!
Tho’ love be sweet, revenge is sweeter far.
To the Piazza! Ha, ha, ha, ha, har!
[Seizes ring, and exit. Through open door are
heard, as the Curtain
falls, sounds of a terrific hubbub in the Piazza.]
