Classic Poem

ACT II.

Scene I.

The homestead of a thrifty peasant,
Quiet, secure, well-built, and pleasant;
Its eaves are moist and green with age,
Its windows wattled like a cage:
From out the tell-tale chimney curl
Blue wreaths of smoke with easy whirl;
A huge domestic elder tree
Shades the dear cot maternally;
While the sweet woodbine on its walls
Sits weaving her fine coronals,
Dropping betimes a careless gem
From some loose twisted diadem,
And looking down as she would stoop
To pick her fallen jewels up.
In front a narrow garden blows,
With formal flowers set out in rows,
With gravell'd walks, smooth as the sands
Laid down by Triton's webbed hands;
Neater, I ween, though not much ampler,
Than wee miss works upon her sampler,
And looking like a cit's parterre
Amid the mountain grandeur there;
For some, bred in the wilderness,
By contrast love wild Nature less
Than those who gasp within the town
To range the hill, and roam the down,
Loving wild loveliness alone.
The cottage-back, if you musThear,
Shuts out a liquid murmurer,
(But you may catch his sullen roar
More loud when opes the thorough-door,
And see him far a-field betray
With shining scales his serpent way.)
Ev'n in that Isle by Vesper fann'd,
Which all the world calls " Snug-man's Land, "
The land of heartfelt, homely bliss,
There's not a snugger cot than this.
One side leans oldly 'gainst the hill,
And t'other props a crony mill
That aye keeps clacking, clacking still;
As if it never would have done
Its tale to its companion.
Two smiling lasses (fair Roselle ,
And S TEPHANIE , a village belle)
Are seated at an oaken table
That scarce to bear the weight is able
Of fruits, and roots, and cates, and pies:
A flagon of portentous size
Stands, like the urn of ancient Po,
From whence his sea-bound surges go
Bellying, the table-foot beside;
From which a wrinkle-smoothing tide
Pours the burnt traveller you see
Into his cup right frequently.
It is a quaint and humorous wight;
His eye proclaims him: A NDREA hight,
More of his character I could
Discover, certes , if I would;
But pray let your own eyes and ears
Serve as your own interpreters.
A NDREA . O my unfortunate Master! O my kind — O! —
S TEPHANIA . Another bowl of cream!
A NDREA . Thanks, gentle signorina! — if it were deep enough to drown me, miserable that I am! it would be only the more deeply welcome! — O sweet and excellent [ drinks ] master!
Roselle . Look what a tempting bunch of grapes! Do pluck one.
A NDREA . Are they good for a hoarseness?
Roselle . Better than a box of lozenges, I warrant them.
A NDREA . Say you so? — Then I will consent to devour a sprig or two, for I am hoarse with lamentation and bawling. — O comely youth! O taper young gentleman! O kind, noble, chaste, sweet-spoken vagabond master! — shall I ever behold —
S TEPHANIA . Such a cheese as the moon was never made of! I pressed it with my own two hands. 'Tis the purest, finest goat's-milk cheese — pray, signior, have a slice of it.
A NDREA . It will strengthen me for whooping and calling, else, I would not touch it for diamonds! It will make me ma-a like a he-goat on a rock-top when he misses the beard of his charmer.
Roselle . Indeed now, you must try our apricots and walnuts. Here is another loaf hot from the oven.
S TEPHANIA . Do not spare the pasty; its fellow is in the larder. Help yourself to another cup of wine: the flagon is beside you.
A NDREA . Alas! — I cannot.
S TEPHANIA . Pray be entreated.
A NDREA . I am inexorable! — No! I will abstain — mortify — I will make a desperate vow — Hear me, thou adorable flagon! If ever I drink a single cup of thy contents, while my dear master —
Roselle . Nay, it is too late: you have had some half-dozen already.
A NDREA . The very reason I can take no more!
S TEPHANIA . Wherefore, dear signior?
A NDREA . Simply because there is no more to take! the wine has evacuated its tenement; the flagon is empty.
S TEPHANIA . Run, dear sister! Go: fetch out our mother's flasket of cordial. You can guess where it lies. It is better than a hogshead of ordinary wine. — Here it is.
Roselle . [ Filling out a goblet .] Now, bachelor!
A NDREA . [ Taking the goblet .] Do you see this vessel? Do you mark its capacity and dimensions? Well: — I have rained the full of this from either flood-gate, three-score of times at a modest computation, since I lost my unfortunate master yesterday morning. Can you wonder if my lachry-matories be in want of replenishment? [ Drinks .]
S TEPHANIA . Alas! true-hearted youth!
Roselle . Forlorn creature!
A NDREA . I have drunk nothing but salt water from the brine-pits of mine eyes, since my master mislaid himself among these villainous mountains. And that, you know, were sufficient to make me as dry as a turnspit in the dog-days; or the cook of a ship's company on pickled allowance, in the latitude of the line, at noon-tide, when the sun looks like a red-hot shot in a furnace, and the air would stew salamanders.
S TEPHANIA and Roselle . True! true!
A NDREA . I have spouted as much water through my head as the lion on an aqueduct, or a whale in a fit of sneezing. Verily, I never wept so much for any two of my grandmothers, though the last left me heir to all she had in the world, videlicet: her blessing. Have you no sad verses to suit the occasion? no miserable rhymes? no ballad about love and murder, or elegy on the death of a favourite lap-dog? Pray consult your albums.

[ Sings ] Oh, Sorrow was ever a thirsty soul,
As Margery did discover;
For every tear she drank a bowl,
ThaTher eyes might still run over!

[ Drinks .
The melancholics always give me the poetics: therefore, O sweet hostesses! pity my hapless situation.
S TEPHANIA . In what respect besides being a melancholy poet?
A NDREA . Oh, I have lost the most amiable, provoking, excellent, incorrigible whistle-cap of a master that ever poor fellow had since the days of knight-errantry. The guide of my youth! the protector of my innocence! the defender of my virtue! — Here do I find myself like a distressed damosel, or the Wandering Jew, in the midst of this frightful wilderness, without knowing either how I came into it, or how I am to get out of it: looking as strange and bepuzzled as a flying-fish caught in the shrouds, or a wild-man-of-the-woods in a show-box. I have not even a word to put forth in excuse if a shepherd's cur chose to ask me my business. Wherefore and therefore: — O unfortunate Andrea: O luckless Pimpinella! O miserable Ribobolo! O unfortunate, luckless, and miserable Andrea della Pimpinella di Ribobolo!
Roselle . What shall we do with him? he is again in a fit of the poetics.
S TEPHANIA . Prithee, friend Andrea della Pimpinella di Ribobolo, do not frighten the squirrels.
A NDREA . I must give vent to my passion; I must relieve my oppressed heart with an effusion of some sort or other. [ Drinks .]
S TEPHANIA . Only that the cup has a bottom, you might think it was a spy-glass.
Roselle . He is going to balance it on his nose; stay a little.
A NDREA . Would this bottle were pewter that I might squeeze it! — Slidikins! where did that other sun come from? No! 'tis the sun and moon shining together: excellent! — I find this wine begin to elevate me.
[ Andrea in his chair is slowly raised from the ground .]
You need not draw away the table, though. — Why, hostesses! — where are you going? — Sinking! — sinking! — Mercy upon me! do they live in a well?
S TEPHANIA and Roselle . O strange!
A NDREA . Have I been singing with Mermaidens? — Down! down! — Still? — Hew! by Saint George and the Dragon, they are on a mining expedition! — Out upon ye, speculators! — Alas! — O! — Uds my life! is their father a pump-sinker?
S TEPHANIA . Wonderful! wonderful!
Roselle . Hush, sister! I have heard of these moon-calves. He is one, I am sure, by his roaring.
S TEPHANIA . And his great mouth. Whither is he going?
Roselle . Only to catch larks for his supper. Or may be his dam bleats for him: did you noThear him cry out the moon! the moon! this moment?
A NDREA . Now could I weep pitcherfuls!
S TEPHANIA . I thoughThe was a flighty sort of a gentleman. But lo! where he rises! — Take care of your hat, sir!
Roselle . Hold on by a tree-top!
A NDREA . Hold on by a fiddlestick! — Catch you some root or tuft, or brushwood! Get astride of some bough, I tell ye! O sinful pair! what have ye been doing that the fiend should carry you down in this manner?
S TEPHANIA and Roselle . O friend Andrea, what can you have done that you should deserve to go to Heaven in such a hurry?
A NDREA . Take to your marrow bones; — kneel — pray — confess, — out with all your iniquities! — Weep, children! roar! sing! — Have you no pater , or ave , or credo? — What do the fools gape at? — Begin! — Beat your breasts! maul your petticoats! take down the pride of your tuckers! — O miserable women! — Tear your hands! wring your hair! — Will yet not? — Did you ever see such a couple of unconverted Magdalens?
S TEPHANIA and Roselle . Alas! alas! he is growing as small as a tom-tit!
A NDREA . Son of my father! they look like two white mice at the door of a trap! — Farewell, hostesses! — goodbye! — O sad! O marvellous! — they are not the size of their noses! — Phew! — I begin to smell brimstone and pitchforks!
S TEPHANIA and Roselle . Let us pray for his safety.
A NDREA . They are at it! they are at it! — Now is there some hope of their perdition from utter salvation. Obstinate jades! they would not do so when I told them. Louder! louder! — I can scarcely catch a mumble. Who the vengeance, d'ye think, is to hear you at this height? — They are sighing in anguish and contrition. Poor souls! — deeper and deeper! — He has them now by the ankles: O kind Satan! send them a gentle swingeing, if thou hast any compassion in thy sooty bosom!
S TEPHANIA . Poor Andrea!
Roselle . Poor signior Di Gobble-o!

Scene II.

O have you known, fond youth, as I
What 'tis to climb the mountains high,
With a bright form of beauty o'er you,
Lighting the airy path before you?
To see how wastefully the wind
Sweeps round and o'er, yet still unkind,
Nought but the fine small ankle shows
For all it flutters, flaps, and blows;
Clasping, indeed, the slender knee
As smooth as chisell'd drapery,
And with its plastic breath pretending
To shape a Phidian beauty bending
Against it strength — yet leaving you
As wise as if it never blew;
For still the envious kirtle dances
Just in the high-road of your glances!
Something like this sweet agony
Haps to my hero, I can see;
The sylvan girl before him glides
Like Oread up the mountain-sides;
No finer form on Attic shore
Bold-eyed Apelles scann'd of yore,
Nor peeping gods, when Jove's free daughter
Lavish'd her white limbs on the water
With its loved burden proudly swelling,
While Dorian caves for joy were knelling,
Triumphant tales of beauty telling.
But our young goddess doth exceed
This reveller on the ocean-bed;
For, of a loveliness as rare,
She is as pure as she is fair:
Her snowy mountain-garb reveals
The charms alone no garb conceals,
Which, spite of that ensphering shroud,
Burst forth like moonbeams through a cloud.
Silent, the rapt idolater
Of this fair wood-nymph follows her;
Yet distant, too, whiche'er it be
Revering her divinity,
Or that, perdue, his gleaming eye
May some neglectful beauty spy;
Yet still to doubt and wonder given
At so much beauty under Heaven.
She turns, and speaks! — Around her mouth
Breaks a slow smile: as when the South
Opens thy lips, O ruby rose!
And thy look brightens as it blows.

S YLVIA . I am too light of foot, I fear, for you.
R OMANZO . Are you of earth? I see the bended grass
Fillip you off its shoulders like the dew
At glistening up-suntide. You press the herb
As tenderly as mist. Sure you have coursed
With Naiads after pearls on the quick stream,
That you can fleet so deftly: or has Zephyr
Lent you his winged slippers?
S YLVIA . O no! no!
My sole companions until now have been
The wild bird and gazelle: haunting with them
Has made me near as buoyant. Pardon me!
Sooth I forgot myself with our sweet talk,
And when I should be courteous, and restrain
My wonted pace, the music that I hear
Makes me dance onward like the thistledown
Timing its gait to the wind's eloquence.
But you are all to blame!
R OMANZO . Oh, I could follow you
To the world's bound! o'er unsupporting seas
And snows infirm as light! Methinks I could
Fleet across bottomless gulfs on the thick air,
And scale the cliffs that nought but sunbeams climb,
Borne up by aspiration towards your beauty.
I have oft dream'd
Of gliding by long leaps o'er the green ground
In breathless ecstacy: through plushy lanes,
Tree-sided; and down sloping esplanades
Battening in sunlight; along valleys dim,
High-terraced rivers, and wild meadow-lands,
Bending my easy way: by will alone,
And inward heaving, rais'd, I seem to flee,
With pleasant dread of touching the near grass
That brushes at my feet. But this fine dream
Is now as dull as life! Yon angel sun
Swims up the welkin not with half the joy,
The silent joy in smoothness, that I feel
Soaring up this hill-side so green with you.
S YLVIA . Why do I feel such pain to hear you speak?
Your gentle voice thrills in my happy bosom
Like waters trembling in their fountain-cell
AThearing the groved nightingale. Speak on.
R OMANZO . Dear Sylvia —
S YLVIA .I did never think my name
So beautiful before! Have other men
Voices as soft as yours?
R OMANZO .The mountain air
Sweetens its tone.
S YLVIA .O no! it was the same
Down in the vale, when you told in mine ear
Things that I understood not, though I wish'd.
Wilt say them o'er again?
R OMANZO .Not now; I dare not!
When you look back upon me with that brow
So golden; all with curled sunbeams hung;
Brightening above me into that sweet smile
Angelical, — I almost think you come
From Heaven to lead me thither. That light garb
Floating behind you seems to part in wings,
And your ethereal form glides up the steep
As smooth and noiseless as it rose indeed
Spontaneous to its own cherubic sphere.
I could even kneel to thee!
S YLVIA .Nay, sit you down
Upon this mossy bank o'er-violeted,
And we will gaze upon the vales below:
And we will spend an hour of rapturous talk —
And gaze — and talk — and read each other's eyes,
Blissful as birds: or pluck wild flowers, and sing
To the hoarse-cadent waterfalls: or hymn
A lovely story out, and stop and listen
While the wind bears to Echo the faint tale,
That woos its sweet way back to us again.
R OMANZO . Oh, I am wrapt in glory! — Seem we not
Like two young Spirits stole from Heaven to view
This green creation; who with looks of praise
Sit murmuring on the early mountain-tops
In close ambrosial converse? — O look round!
Pleasure lies floating o'er the scenes beneath
Dissolved in the warm air; and gorgeous Noon
O'er the ripe fields her yellow veil doth spread
So thick, mine eyes scarce pierce it.
S YLVIA .Turn them here
And drink fresh wonder. Yon's my favourite haunt:
A winding elm-walk, by a silver stream
Ambling free-footed down the mountain's side,
Weetless of whither: till it falls at last,
With gentle wail that it must sleep so soon,
Over the rocky shelve into the lake,
The glassy-bosom'd lake, so deep and clear.
R OMANZO . Methinks the boughs that keep it dark and cool,
Hang o'er the jetty marge in a fond dream:
Even their whispering speaks of sleepiness.
S YLVIA . Look at the feeding swan beneath the willows:
How pure her white neck gleams against their green
As she sits nesting on the waters!
R OMANZO .Beautiful!
She is the lady of the reed-girt Isles!
See! how she swells her navigable wings
And coasts her sedgy empire keenly round!
She looks a bird of snow dropt from the clouds
To queen it o'er the minnows!
S YLVIA .Doth she not?
Side-looking, slow, disdainful one!
R OMANZO .The bright,
The pearly creature! — Lone and calm she rides,
Like Dian on the wave when night is clear,
And the sleek west-wind smooths the billows down
Into forgetfulness, that she may see
How fasTher silver gondola can boom
Sheer on the level deep.
S YLVIA .Behold yon rock
Down which a torrent shines afar: the noise
Is loud, yet we can'Thear it.
R OMANZO .Partial Heavens!
O what a splendid deluge thou pour'st down
From out thy glorious flood-gate, on this vale!
Thickets, and knolls, slopes, lawns, and bosomy dells,
Scarce show their green for gold. Yet, it is strange!
There is a melancholy in sun-bright fields
Deeper to me than gloom; I am ne'er so sad
As when I sit amid bright scenes alone.
S YLVIA . Perchance your fortunes are not of that hue,
And then it seems to mock them. — Come, your eyes
Are full of meditation's tearsCome on!
I have a garland still to bind for you:
Come! to the myrtle grove.
R OMANZO .The myrtle grove!
S YLVIA . I'll teach you too how it behoves you walk
This valley. Come!
R OMANZO .Sweet! to the myrtle grove!

Scene III.

Down the bourn-side and up the dale
Observe a dim line across the Vale,
By sad and sun-green grasses made
A boundary of light and shade:
This is the running landmark drawn
Athwart the deep prospective lawn,
Sharing the Valley's length between
The Fiend-King and the Fairy-Queen.

Enter G RUMIEL and M OMIEL .

M OMIEL . Proceed, master! — proceed, thou infallible vade mecum!
G RUMIEL . Goad me not, fleering pest! with thy long nails,
Else I will tear the skin from off thy back,
In straps; or gouge thine eyes out.
M OMIEL But, my lord,
We shall not catch our prey else.
G RUMIEL .Fogs on him!
And him that sent us! and thee too, thou zany!
Come on, and thou shalt see there is no means
To pass without our limbo.
M OMIEL .So! his rush
Is out, I think!
G RUMIEL .Feel here; a sightless plane
Of glass stands like a crystal wall, as high
As bridgy Heav'n: 'tis thinner than blown soap,
Yet strong as adamant to smoky natures
Like thine and mine: this is the jealous pale
And limit of our realm. We cannot pierce it
Without a spell, and that would rouse Morgana.
Come hither; strive to punch thy finger through,
Or break thy foot against it.
M OMIEL .No, my lord,
I'll use a tougher mallet — give me leave —
G RUMIEL . What wouldst thou do?
M OMIEL .Why, take thee leg and arm,
And bounce thee 'gainst it like a battering-ram,
Till skull or wall should crack: better if both.
G RUMIEL . Thou that canst grin so like a wolf, howl too![ Strikes him .
M OMIEL . I'll get thee plagued for this: I'll be revenged!
G RUMIEL . We must slouch home.
M OMIEL .Ay, and be scorch'd to fritters!
That is your wisdom! — No; hear my device:
Let us creep serpent-wise along the ground,
Close by the wall, and trap the younker ranging.
G RUMIEL . Poh! thou'rt a counsellor indeed? How trap him?
How should we lure him o'er? first tell me that.
M OMIEL .I have a stratagem. The heat is fierce.
And he will rage with thirst. Do thou stand here,
With a deep bowl of Lethe in thy fist,
A little from the wall: thou hast a face,
A good bronze face, and Ethiop limbs to boot,
So may'st assume the statue. If he thrust
A nostril through the wall, the deadly fume
Will cloud his brain, and through all lets he'll come,
Like a blind horse, to drink. Stand till he tries
To bathe his lip in the fresh cup thou hold'st
And then we'll seize upon him.
G RUMIEL .Good! I see it.
Vanish thou when he comes. I will stand fast
As the unquarried rock; and so present him
This maple bowl, crown'd with such juicy weeds
And dropping such pure blobs, thaThe will drink
Though angels bid him hold.
M OMIEL .Lie close! lie close! [ Exeunt .

Enter N EPHON behind .

N EPHON . Ho! ho! I thought that I should catch ye;
Snakes i' the grass, I'll over-match ye.
There comes an instrument that shall
Work our advantage and your bale —
Hist! hist! Floretta!

Enter F LORETTA .

F LORETTA .Ay! — like you
I have been eavesdropping too.
Now I must like wind away
To my virgin care,
And entice her if I may,
From this demon snare.
Eve shall hang the clouds with scarlet
Ere I rest me![ Vanishes .
N EPHON .Here's the varlet! —
In the skylark's simple bed,
Nephon, hide thy artful head.

Enter A NDREA .

A NDREA . I have heard of Pacolet and his horse, that could fly from Constantinople to Rome by the turning of a peg in his neck, and without the turning of a hair on his body: for indeed he had none; being made, I think, of good dry oak, if it were not rather Spanish mahogany. But, for the most part, I have always set down such matters as nothing better than moral tales ; with no more truth in them than is to be found at the bottom of a well; and of use only to give youth a relish for history and learning. Now do I see the vanity of this age in pretending to cry down such things. What! have not I been soaring? have not I been taking down a few cobwebs from the " hazy canopy, " as we say in rhyme? have not I cut " the starry firmament " hither, on a four-legged stool? How many minutes is it since I was cheek by cheek with a couple of frolicsome damsels, or rather a still more kiss-provoking double-tankard? — and now — O sorrowful change! — I am only beside myself, in this hideously beautiful valley! O Master! Master! would I might see the fringe of thy skirt, or pick up one of thy stray belts! — it would do to hang myself, if I had no other consolation!

[ An embroidered suit falls in different places about him .]

So-ho, there! — Does it snow by the yard here? and in summer too? — Cloaks! doublets! indescribables! — What! are the clouds woollen-manufactories! Is Heaven any place for a tailor? could he soar thither on his goose? — O fine! — If the fig-trees in this place grow leaves equal to these, I have found out the site of Adam's paradise. They shall not long be in want of a wearer. 'Slife! they fit me like a new skin. Now if I should meet Signior Romanzo! No matter; I would not bend a hair from my altitude: I shall be as good a gentleman as he in my fourth generation. O grand! — Now could I lead a troop of horse! — O magnificent Andrea! — Wert thou ever a plebeian? — But, alas! of what use is all this splendour when there is no one but myself to admire it?
N EPHON . Signior Andrea!
A NDREA . Ahoy! — who squeaks?
N EPHON . Signior Andrea della Pimpinella!
A NDREA . Santa Maria! am I pinching the tail of a grass-mouse? — Where did it get my name, though?
N EPHON . Signior Andrea della Pimpinella di Ribobolo!
A NDREA . Andrea della Pimpinella di Ribobolo! — he has learnt it all as pat as my godfather! — only thaThe sings it a little through his nose. Where is this mighty small-spoken gentleman? — Hilloa, Signior Nobody! at what point of the compass must I look, to be mannerly?
N EPHON . Consult your shoe-buckles.
A NDREA . O pupil of mine eyes! what do I behold? — Art thou Gorgoglio, the son of the giant Gorbellione? or only a simple Patagonian from the South Pole? WhaTheathen ogress gave such an enormity birth? Did Nature cut thee out of a mountain? — What art thou?
N EPHON . Look at my mustaches!
A NDREA . Ay, I might have known thee for an hussar by the ferocity of thy voice, and the stoutness of thy figure: thou art all over tags and bobs too, like an itinerant haber-dasher. What is thy name? — Grimbalduno, or Hurlothrumbo?
N EPHON . I shall not be loth to declare it upon any gentlemanly occasion.
A NDREA . Lud-a-mercy! I did not mean to send your reverence a challenge! The very wind of your weapon would make flitches of me: slice me from nape to hip, like two moieties of a pig hung up i' the shambles. No! no! I have more wit than to have my skull laid open like a boiled rabbit's, or to die the divisible death of a walnut!
N EPHON . Will you walk then, — I mean, saunter?
A NDREA . So as your reverence has no bloodthirsty intention: I am no dare-devil to encounter such a Goliath. But take care lest my foot happen to light on your reverence; it might squeeze your reverence into the capacity of a dollar: and by'r lady! I cannot undertake to distinguish your reverence while dame Earth keeps her beard unshorn. If I should step into a two-inch tuft, it's odds but I commit manslaughter. Could not your reverence manage to take my heel by the elbow? We might then trot on brotherly together.
N EPHON . Take care of thyself, Master Andrea: there are man-traps hereabout. Leave me to my own discretion.
A NDREA . Agreed, your reverence: only remember that if I shall chance, in raising my foot, to kick your worship to Grand Cairo, I shall not be bound to measure swords with your reverence for the insult.
N EPHON . Agreed! agreed![ Exeunt .

Scene changes to another part of the woodland.

Enter R OMANZO AND S YLVIA .

S YLVIA . No farther, dear companion! — where yon stream
Tinkles amid the bushes down the vale,
The ground becomes unholy.
R OMANZO .O sweet Sylvia!
I long to be thy champion, thy true knight! —
Thy conquering smile upon me, with this sword
I'll undertake to blaze destruction
Through every demon cave —
S YLVIA .Not for the world!
Thou must not be so venturous!
R OMANZO .I would do
Some deed of high devotion, as of old,
Renowned Youths did for their lady-loves.
Prithee, assent! — with Heaven's good aid and thine,
Yon half o' the vale, now sable-green, and drear,
Shall bloom beneath thy fearless step like this;
And thou shalt range it, as the palmy hind
Her forest walks unscared.
S YLVIA .Do it, and make me
Fall from my happy state! — Wilt have me weep?
R OMANZO . Nay, kill me with a frown — if thou canst frown,
Ah! strive not! — on thy candid brow a star
Shines cloudlessly, and oh, more constant bright
Than e'en the marble tutoress of a cave
Holds 'tween her heavy eyelids, when the moon
Has stolen upon her beauty. 'Tis in vain!
Thy lips are grave — no more! Come, thou must smile!
S YLVIA . Then do not pain my heart by talking thus
Of wild attempts: I'm satisfied with thee,
And do not wish thee greater; nor a space
More wide for our sweet rambles. Let me show thee.
Carefully all the fatal bounds, that when
Thou walk'st, perchance, alone, thou may'st avoid them
Then will we to the bower.

Enter F LORETTA .

R OMANZO .What is here?
Sylvia! — see! see!
S YLVIA .Peace! 'tis a fairy!
One of the petty angels of this realm;
We must be courteous to the gentle thing,
Or 'twill not hum its song. Listen! Oh, listen!
R OMANZO . Oh, Heavens! I almost weep and laugh at once
To hear its silver words; and see it tipping
Every fair-crested daughter of the field
With puny hand. — What! doth it steal their leaves?
S YLVIA . Sweet friend, keep silence!

F LORETTA . I do love the meadow-beauties,
And perform them tender duties,
So the fair ones let me use 'em
For my brow, and for my bosom.
Follow! follow! follow me!
And I'll choose a brooch for thee!

Here be pansies just a-blowing;
Here be lords-and-ladies glowing;
What a crowd of maiden-blushes
Court a kiss on yonder bushes!
Follow! follow! follow me!
And I'll get a kiss for thee!

Down the slopy hillocks, sweetest
Grows the blue pervinke, meetest
For a garland; should the wreather
Cowslip choose, she may have either!
Follow! follow! follow me!
And I'll show them both to thee!
[ Exit, followed by R OMANZO and S YLVIA .

Enter G RUMIEL and M OMIEL .

G RUMIEL . Pugh! I smell villainous mortality! — Our prey is near.
M OMIEL . Is this he striding towards us in seven-leagued shoes, with a whole peacock's tail in his bonnet?
G RUMIEL . Ay; doth he not strut most wrathfully, like a lobster-nosed alderman, or a new-made lord o' the bed chamber? A's a gallant fellow! It must be he!
M OMIEL . Doubtless it must: he comes of a coach-keeping family, at least; for the smirk of my lady's footman shines out in his visage: I warrant you now, simple as he walks there, he can trace his pedigree to Adam!
G RUMIEL . Ay, and to popes and emperors; he is scarlet even to the tip of his nostril. Tell me that I have not the eyes of discovery again, sirrah!
M OMIEL . Faith, yes, to detect the pulp of a melon under the coat of a pumpkin. Are the seven wise souls of Greece clubbed in thy politic person? — [ Aside .] There is nothing of the Narcissus about this swaggerer; a bulrush bred out o' the mire: he hath not the look of a flower-gentle. Some ass in the hide of a zebra: some highway-man, that hath changed cloaks with a cardinal. But 'twill do! this sot of a spaniel here will get lugged for his mistake; setting a scarecrow instead of a woodcock. I'll humour it!
G RUMIEL . Slink off, thou gibbering ape! — I'll stiffen into metal, with the cup.
M OMIEL . Ay, thou'lt brazen it out, never fear thee, like a saint upon a vintner's sign-post. — Here he comes, walking as wide and crop-swollen as a magpie in red spatterdashes. — How naturally that brother of mine looks through glass eyes at nothing!

Enter A NDREA ; N EPHON behind .

A NDREA . Paugh! the sun, I think, is very indecorously hot; nothing above lukewarm is fashionable: therefore Apollo is less of a gentleman than his brother Phebe, as we lassically desecrate the night's bright lunatic. 'Slidikins! I melt like a waxen image in the bodice of a fat landlady. — Oh, for another pull at " our mother's flasket of cordial " ! — What hoa! Signior Grasshopper! — Could'st thou pilot me to some well or stream? I'll set thee on the back of a minnow for it, if thou lik'st such a cockhorse. — The homunculus had almost slipped out of my remembrance during the last minute. 'Slife! 'tis vanished out of my sight also! — Oh lamentable! Ox that I am, I have trodden his little frogship into a mummy! his blood is upon my toe! — This comes of walking with greatness; this comes of conversing with those that are above thee; thou wilt be crushed as a grain of wheat by a millstone! Phial of Saint Januarius! what have we here? A noddling mandarin-cup-bearer! a Hottentot Granny-maid! — if it be not rather a newly-cast chandelier walked abroad from the foundery! Is it the bottom of a brewer's vaThe stretches forth so courteously? — Oh, now I have it! 'tis a charity cup for the wayfarer, posted here by some benevolent monks in the neighbourhood. I'll be bound for it though, the hospitable gentlemen have not squeezed the best o' their vintage into it. Nothing, as I live! more precious than water, and that none of the most fragrant. Waugh! I hope the spring was not poisoned; nevertheless my tongue is drier than a camel's hoof, and I must soak it a little, if 'twere only to prevent it growing cloven. So, Monsieur Dumb-waiter, by your leave —
G RUMIEL . [ seizing him ]. Dog! I have thee!
M OMIEL . Collar him! collar him! with thy brassy talons!
A NDREA . I am betrayed, like an innocent! — O thou treacherous mite! O thou iniquitous atom! O thou vile thumb of a man! would that I never —
M OMIEL . Chuck him under the chin for his brave speech-making: grip him fast by his thump-cushion arm, lesThe overdo the action.
G RUMIEL . Drag him along, the field-preacher!
M OMIEL . Ay, to court with him! he shall preach before his majesty.
A NDREA . Beseech ye, noble Abyssinians —
G RUMIEL . Shall I cork thee with this mallet?
M OMIEL . Nay, if he will not, let us put a ring in his nose, and haul him along like a bull for the baiting. Nudge him on the other side, with the crank of thy elbow, and see how merrily he'll amble.
A NDREA . O miserable son of a weaver! O unfortunate poet! O intolerably unlucky, and never-enough-to-be-pitied-for-thy-innumerable-and-inexpressible-woes-and-unheard-of-misventures, Andrea della Pimpinella di Ribobolo.
M OMIEL . Ay, ay, that is your alias; and like every other knave that would conceal himself, you have as many titles as a Spanish grandee; but it sh'an't serve at this turning: no, no, Signior Alias!
G RUMIEL . Whirl him along, thou accursed stonechatter! thou soul of a spinster!
A NDREA . I am getting addled as a nest-egg. Am I an animal or a Mameluke?
[ Exeunt the fiends, dragging A NDREA .

Scene IV.

The dreary halls of the enchanter
Lengthen in antre after antre:
Between the yawning jambs of which
Strong-ribbed portcullises do stretch.
Enormous Powers, on either hand,
Some of the old Titanian band,
With misty eyes and downcast looks
Stand dozing in their hollow nooks,
Club-shapen oaks beneath their arms
To guard the House of Ill from harms:
The dun lords of the feline race
From side to side pass and repass;
And brinded forms with cruel eyes
Glistening at one another's cries,
Scourge their own sides for ire; a brood
Kept fierce for war by lack of food
And red repast of luscious blood.
Ten griffins torturing round their stings,
Coil their mail'd lengths in crackling rings,
That ever as their nostrils blow
Sulphury flames, illumined grow,
As if their steely faces shone
With passions, instant come and gone.
See'st thou a funeral canopy
Hang in the black air dismally
Its flaggy curtains? — there doth moan
In easeless sleep the Evil-One:
And there, his painful cockatrice
Lulls him with close incessant hiss,
If lull he may; for Terror still
Keeps him awake against his will
Upstarts the regal mockery! — now
Flashes the blue spite of his brow,
And now he thrills the batty walls
Of his dull palace, as he calls.

Enter F IENDS .

A RARACH . No word? — no sign? — no messenger?
Fiends .None, lord!
A RARACH . O ye shall freeze, ye slugs! in lakes of ice
For this! — ye shall! What! none? — For ages, ay,
Till roaring conflagration seize the world,
Ye shall stand oozing blood from either eye,
With bitter pain! —
Fiends .Hark! the resounding floors!
Thunders the echoing porch, and clang the barry doors!

Enter G RUMIEL and M OMIEL , with A NDREA prisoner .

A RARACH . What's he? Yon staring fool! Speak, ye torpedos!
Where have ye slept your time?
G RUMIEL .Master, we bring
Thy victim-rival, the spruce lord —
A RARACH .That charlatan? —
Ho! — bear these dormice instant to the torture!
Let them be lashed to strips inch-broad! let both
Trudge blistering o'er a fiery-sanded plain,
While ye on wing do scourge them!
G RUMIEL .Howl! howl! howl!
M OMIEL . Ha! ha! — I care not what I suffer, while
I see him get the lashes! — Ha! ha! ha!
Thou'lt find a springy Oasis in the desert,
Eh, thou discoverer? or a North Pole
To cool thy feet?
G RUMIEL .I'll grind thy head for this,
If ever we get free!
[ Exeunt G RUMIEL and M OMIEL with the torturers .

A RARACH .Who art thou, idiot?
A NDREA . I know no more of my parents, your worship, than a foundling tied to a knocker. When I was alive, if I can collect my scattered faculties, I might, please your worship, have been (without pride be it spoken!) the only hope of a tailor: but indeed I have not the boldness to maintain it; for within these few minutes, I have, with pure fear and exaggeration, forgotten all my geography. — Oh, will these teeth wear themselves round, like a parcel of jackstones? — Shall I ever crack a filberd again? — Chatter! chatter! chatter!
A RARACH . What have they brought me here? A halfbrain'd loon!
A mimmering driveller! — Shove him without!
He's not worth torments. Stay: thou shalt not go
Without our mark upon thee. — Hence, stupidity!
[ Striking him with his wand .
Trot on a cloven heel away, and satyr-like,
As Nature should have made thee! — Stretch his ears
Into a Panic size! — Go! scare the wilds,
Thou bungle of a man! — Hoot him away!
A NDREA . I do most verdantly beseech our Lady
To grant your worship long life and propriety!
[ Exit running .
A RARACH . I'll send these tortured slaves trooping again
Upon mine errand: 'twas that yellow fiend
Perplexed his brother. But I'll promise him
Pains that will make his spirit sob to hear them,
If he do so again. I have no choice;
They are my best of servants. Call those fiends!

The scene closes.