t him, nor ever did,
Spoke such perpetual sweetness, till I thought
He wore some sugared villany within:--
But then he is my master's ancient friend,
And always known the favorite of the duke,
And, as I know, our lady's treacherous lord!
Oh, Holy Mother, that to villain hawks
Our dove should fall a prey! poor gentle dear!
Now if I had their throats within my grasp--
No matter--if my master be himself,
Nor time nor place shall bind up his revenge.
He's not a man to spend his wrath in noise,
But when his mind is made, with even pace
He walks up to the deed and does his will.
In fancy I can see him to the end--
The duke, perchance, already breathes his last,
And for Bernardo--he will join him soon;
And for Rosalia, she will take the veil,
To which she hath been heretofore inclined;
And for my master, he will take again
To alchemy--a pastime well enough,
For aught I know, and honest Christian work.
Still it was strange how my poor mistress died,
Found, as she was, within her husband's study.
The rumor went she died of suffocation;
Some cursed crucible which had been left,
By Giacomo, aburning, filled the room,
And when the lady entered took her breath.
He found her there, and since that day the place
Has been a home for darkness and for dust.
I hear him coming; by his hurried step
There's something done, or will be very soon.

(_Enter Giacomo. He sets the light upon the table and confronts
Lorenzo with a stern look._)

_Gia._ Lorenzo, thou hast served me twenty years,
And faithfully; now answer me, how was't
That thou wert in the street at such an hour?

_Lor._ When that the festival was o'er last night,
I went to join some comrades in their wine
To pass the time in memory of the event.

_Gia._ And doubtless thou wert blinded soon with drink?

_Lor._ Indeed, good signor, though the wine flowed free,
I could not touch it, though much urged by all--
Too great a sadness sat upon my heart--
I could do naught but sit and sigh and think
Of our Rosalia in her bridal dress.

_Gia._ And sober too! so much the more at fault.
But, as I said, thou'st served me long and well,
Perchance too long--too long by just a day.
Here, take this purse, and find another master.

_Lor._ Oh, signor, do not drive me thus away!
If I have made mistake--

_Gia._ No, sirrah, no!
Thou hast not made mistake, but something worse.

_Lor._ Oh, pray you, what is that then I have made?

_Gia._ A lie!

_Lor._ Inde