M. "Oh, the stupid, stupid versifier! Listen to me, now. See if I don't terrify you.
| "On flying plumes soars Icarus, and climbs the heaven with pride, |
| Treads on the clouds, then stoops, rash youth, and skims along the tide. |
| O'er Pelion piled, see Ossa frown, Olympus on her back; |
| This wrought the Titans, impious brood, to work high heaven wrack. |
| But Icarus erelong must sink, and drown in salt sea-spume; |
| Jove's bolt will hurl the Titans bold in ashes to their tomb. |
| Clarice shall ascend the throne, false Mage, in thy despite; |
| Tartaglia, like Actæon, mock the antlered deer in flight." |
C. (aside). "She is trying to beat me down with poetical bombast. If she thinks to shut me up in that way she is quite mistaken.
| "I will not leave one plea unturned without demurrers sound, |
| And 'gainst your swelling lies will file a protest firm and round." |
M. "The realm of Diamonds avoid! Let lawful monarchs reign!"
(Taking her departure.)
C. (crying after her). "And I'll claim costs, stay execution, file my bills again."
(Here Celio went in.)
The last scene was laid in the royal kitchen. Never did mortal eyes behold a more miserable king's kitchen than this. The remainder of the performance followed the old story-book precisely; nevertheless, the spectators watched it with sustained attention. The parody turned upon some trivialities of detail and some basenesses of character in dramas written by the two poets. Excessive poverty, dramatic impropriety, and meanness gave the satire point.
Truffaldino appeared spitting a joint. He related how, there being no turnjack in the kitchen, he was obliged to watch the revolutions of the spit himself. While thus engaged, a dove alighted on the window-sill, and a conversation took place between him and the bird. The dove had said: "Good morning, cook of the kitchen." He had replied: "Good morning, white dove." She continued: "I pray to Heaven that you may fall asleep, that the roast may burn, so that the Moor, that ugly mug, may not be able to eat." A mighty slumber overcame him; he fell asleep, and the roast was burned to cinders. This accident happened twice. In a precious hurry he set the third joint before the fire. Then the dove reappeared, and the conversation was repeated. Again the mighty slumber overcame his senses. Truffaldino, honest fellow, did all he could to keep awake. His lazzi were in the highest degree facetious. But he could not resist the spell, began to nod, and the flames reduced the third roast to ashes.