Petrarca (fearful). No!... no!
(Starts up.)
But hear, Gherardo, hear!
(His words come stifled.)
There in the cloister have you peace—in prayer?
In visions—penances?...
Swear that you have! swear to me! once!... but once!
And I...! ...
No, never!... never!
(He wipes his brow.)
While we are in the world the world's in us.
The Holy Church I own—
Confess her Heaven's queen;
But we are flesh and all things that are fair
God made us to enjoy—
Or, high in Paradise, we'll know but sorrow.
You though would ban earth's beauty,
Even the torch of Glory
That kindled Italy once and led great Greece—
The torch of Plato, Homer, Virgil, all
The sacred bards and sages, pagan-born!
I love them! they are divine!
And so to-night...! ...
(Voices.)
They! it is Lello! Lello! Sancia!——
(Hears a lute and laughter below, then a call, "Sing, Sancia"; then Sancia singing:)