_Di Brog_. Far from it love. No branch, they say, of all philosophy So deep abstruse he has not mastered it, Learned as few are learned. _Aless_. 'Tis very strange, I have known men have seen Politian And sought his company. They speak of him As of one who entered madly into life, {107} Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs. _Cas_. Ridiculous! Now, _I_ have seen Politian And know him well--nor learned nor mirthful he. He is a dreamer and a man shut out From common passions. _Di Brog_. Children, we disagree. Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear Politian was a _melancholy_ man? (_exeunt_.) II. The suburbs. Politian alone. This weakness grows upon me. I am faint And much I fear me ill--it will not do To die ere I have lived!--Stay--stay thy hand O Azrael, yet awhile!--Prince of the Powers Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me! O pity me! let me not perish now, In the budding of my hopes--give me to live, Give me to live yet--yet a little while: 'Tis I who pray for life--I who so late Demanded but to die!--what sayeth the Count? _Enter Baldazzar_. _Bal_. That knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud Between the Earl Politian and himself, He doth decline your cartel. _Pol_. What didst thou say? What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar? With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes Laden from yonder bowers!--a fairer day, Or one more worthy Italy, methinks No mortal eyes have seen!--_what_ said the Count? _Bal_. That he, Castiglione, not being aware Of any feud existing, or any cause Of quarrel between your lordship and himself, Cannot accept the challenge. _Pol_. It is most true-- All this is very true. When saw you, sir, When saw you now, Baldazzar, in the frigid Ungenial Britain which we left so lately, A heaven so calm as this--so utterly free From the evil taint of clouds?--and he did say? _Bal_. No more, my lord, than I have told you, sir, The Count Castiglione will not fight, Having no cause for quarrel. _Pol_. Now this is true-- All very true. Thou art my friend, Baldazzar, And I have not forgotten it--thou'lt do me A piece of service? wilt thou go back and say Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester, Hold him a villain--thus much, I prythee, say Unto the Count--it is exceeding just He should have cause for quarrel. _Bal_. My lord!--my friend!------ _Pol_. (_aside_.) 'Tis he--he comes himself! (_aloud_.) thou reasonest well. I know what thou wouldst say--not send the message-- Well!--I will think of it--I will not send it. Now prythee, leave me--hither doth come a person With whom affairs of a most private nature I would adjust. _Bal_. I go--to-morrow we meet, Do we not?--at the Vatican.