Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, Believe! _Cesario (musing)._ It has been long. _Lucio._ As tapestry Pricked out by women's needles; point-device As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues! _Cesario._ Why, what's the matter? _Lucio._ P'st! another lie Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, My sister is a saint--and yet she married: Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers, Stick but to business in this naughty world! Ah, well! the Duke comes home. _Cesario._ And what of that? _Lucio._ Release! _Cesario._ Release? _Lucio (mocking a chant within the Chapel)._ From priests and petticoats Deliver us, Good Lord! _Gamba (strikes a chord on viol). AMEN!_ _Cesario._ Count Lucio, These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, You were a child--a pretty, forward boy; And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, I clenched my nails over an inward wound: For that a something manlier than my years-- Look, bearing, what-not--by the Duke not miss'd, Condemned me to promotion: I must bide At home, command the Guard! 'Tis an old hurt, But scalded on my memory.... Well, they sailed! And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity, Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, I watch'd them through a mist--turned with a sob-- Uptore my rooted sight-- There, there she stood; Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe Stirred in her body while she gazed--she gazed-- But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine; So--with how wan, how small, how brave a smile!-- Reached me her hands to kiss ... O royal hands! What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. But hear me swear by them, Count Lucio-- Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me. _Lucio._ Why, soothly, she's my sister! _Cesario._ 'But the court Is dull? No masques, few banquetings--and prayers Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate?' Yet if the money husbanded on feasts Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, Year after year, and still the State not starved; Was't not well done? And if, responsible To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise?-- And well, though weary? _Lucio._ I tell you, she's my sister! _Cesario._ Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord Lucio, You named the Countess Fulvia. To my sorrow, Two hours ago I called on her and laid her Under arrest. _Lucio._ The devil! For what? _Cesario._ For that A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize His dutiful return by shutting doors And hanging out a ladder made of rope, Or prove its safety by rehearsing it Upon a heavier man. _Lucio._ I'll go to her. Oh, this is infamous!