Phobe.

Nor any here. Camma. I am all but sure that some

one spake. Antonius,

If you had found him plotting against Rome,

Would you have tortured Sinnatus to death?

Antonius. No thought was mine of torture or of death,

But had I found him plotting, I had counsell'd him

To rest from vain resistance. Rome is fated

To rule the world. Then, if he had not listen'd,

I might have sent him prisoner to Rome. Synorix. Why do you palter with the ceremony?

Go on with the marriage rites.

Camma.

They are finish'd.

I pray you lift me

And make me walk awhile. I have heard these poisons

May be walk'd down.

[Antonius and Publius raise him up. My feet are tons of lead, They will break in the earth — I am sinking-hold me

Let me alone.

[They leave him; he sinks down on ground.

Too late thought myself wise A woman's dupe. Antonius, tell the

Senate

I have been most true to Rome would have been true

To her-if-if- [Falls as if dead. Camma (coming and leaning over him) So falls the throne of an hour. Synorix (half rising). Throne? is it thou? the Fates are throned, not we

Not guilty of ourselves - thy doom and

live

mine

SCENE. AN

ITALIAN COTTAGE. MOUNTAINS SEEN

CASTLE AND THROUGH WINDOW.

No, no again to that. [Rises and turns.
My good old nurse,
I had forgotten thou wast sitting there.
Elisabetta. Ay, and forgotten thy
foster-brother too.

Count. Bird-babble for my falcon!
Let it pass.

What art thou doing there?

Elisabetta. Darning, your lordship. We cannot flaunt it in new feathers

now:

Nay, if we will buy diamond necklaces To please our lady, we must darn, my lord.

This old thing here (points to necklace round her neck),

they are but blue beads - my Piero, God rest his honest soul, he bought 'em for me,

Ay, but he knew I meant to marry him. How couldst thou do it, my son? How couldst thou do it?

Count. She saw it at a dance, upon a neck

Less lovely than her own, and long'd for

Filippo. Ah, the women, the women! Ah, Monna Giovanna, you here again! you that have the face of an angel and the heart of a that's too positive! You that have a score of lovers and have not a heart for any of them—that's positivenegative: you that have not the head of a toad, and not a heart like the jewel in it that's too negative; you that have a cheek like a peach and a heart like the stone in it- that's positive again - that's better !

Elisabetta. Sh-sh-Filippo! Filippo (turns half round). Here has our master been a-glorifying and a-velveting and a-silking himself, and a-peacocking and a-spreading to catch her eye for a dozen year, till he hasn't an eye left in his own tail to flourish among the peahens, and all along o' you, Monna Giovanna, all along o' you!

Elisabetta. Sh- sh-Filippo! Can't you hear that you are saying behind his back what you see you are saying afore his face?

Let him he never spares

Count. me to my face!

Filippo. No, my lord, I never spare your lordship to your lordship's face, nor behind your lordship's back, nor to right, nor to left, nor to round about and back to your lordship's face again, for I'm honest, your lordship.

Count. Come, come, Filippo, what is there in the larder?

[Elisabetta crosses to fireplace and puts on wood.

Filippo. Shelves and hooks, shelves and hooks, and when I see the shelves I am like to hang myself on the hooks. Count. No bread?

Filippo. Half a breakfast for a rat!

Count. Milk?

Filippo. Three laps for a cat!
Count. Cheese?

Filippo. A supper for twelve mites.
Count. Eggs?

Filippo. One, but addled.

Count. No bird?

Filippo. Half a tit and a hern's bill. Count. Let be thy jokes and thy jerks, man! Anything or nothing?

Filippo. Well, my lord, if all-butnothing be anything, and one plate of dried prunes be all-but-nothing, then there is anything in your lordship's larder at your lordship's service, if your lordship care to call for it.

Count. Good mother, happy was the
prodigal son,

For he return'd to the rich father; I
But add my poverty to thine. And all
Thro' following of my fancy. Pray thee
make

Thy slender meal out of those scraps and shreds

Filippo spoke of. As for him and me, There sprouts a salad in the garden still. (To the Falcon.) Why didst thou miss thy quarry yester-even?

To-day, my beauty, thou must dash us down

Our dinner from the skies. Away, Filippo!

[Exit, followed by Filippo. Elisabetta. I knew it would come to this. She has beggared him. I always knew it would come to this! (Goes up to table as if to resume darning, and looks out of window.) Why, as I live, there is Monna Giovanna coming down the hill from the castle. Stops and stares at our cottage. Ay, ay! stare at it: it's all you have left us. Shame on you! She beautiful: sleek as a miller's mouse! Meal enough, meat enough, well fed; but beautiful - bah! Nay, see, why she turns down the path through our little vineyard, and I sneezed three times this morning. Coming to visit my lord, for the first time in her life too! Why, bless the saints! I'll be bound to confess her love to him at last. I forgive her, I forgive her! I knew it would come to this - I always

knew it must come to this! (Goes up to door during latter part of speech and opens it.) Come in, Madonna, come in. (Retires to front of table and curtseys as the Lady Giovanna enters, then moves chair towards the hearth.) Nay, let me place this chair for your ladyship.

[Lady Giovanna moves slowly down stage, then crosses to chair, looking about her, bows as she sees the Madonna over fireplace, then sits in chair.

Lady Giovanna. Can I speak with the Count?

Elisabetta. Ay, my lady, but won't you speak with the old woman first, and tell her all about it and make her happy? for I've been on my knees every day for these half-dozen years in hope that the saints would send us this blessed morning; and he always took you so kindly, he always took the world so kindly. When he was a little one, and I put the bitters on my breast to wean him, he made a wry mouth at it, but he took it so kindly, and your ladyship has given him bitters enough in this world, and he never made a wry mouth at you, he always took you so kindly-which is more than I did, my lady, more than I did - and he so handsome and bless your sweet face, you look as beautiful this morning as the very Madonna her own self- and better late than never- but come when they will then or now-it's all for the best, come when they will they are made by the blessed saints- these marriages. [Raises her hands. Lady Giovanna. Marriages? I shall never marry again! Elisabetta (rises and turns). on her then!

Shame

That, thro' his late magnificence of living And this last costly gift to mine own self, [Shows diamond necklace. He hath become so beggar'd, that his falcon

Ev'n wins his dinner for him in the field.

That must be talk, not truth, but truth or talk,

How can I ask for his falcon?

[Rises and moves as she speaks. O my sick boy! My daily fading Florio, it is thou Hath set me this hard task, for when I say

What can I do- what can I get for thee?

He answers, 'Get the Count to give me his falcon,

And that will make me well.' Yet if I ask,

He loves me, and he knows I know he loves me!

Will he not pray me to return his love

To marry him? - (pause) — I can never marry him.

His grandsire struck my grandsire in a brawl

At Florence, and my grandsire stabb'd him there.

The feud between our houses is the bar I cannot cross; I dare not brave my brother,

Break with my kin. My brother hates

him, scorns

The noblest-natured man alive, and I— Who have that reverence for him that I scarce

Dare beg him to receive his diamonds back

How can I, dare I, ask him for his falcon?

[Puts diamonds in her casket.