MICHAEL ANGELO.
'T is an illusion
A fabulous story, that will lead old men
Into a thousand follies and conceits.
VITTORIA. So you may show to cavilers your painting Of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel.
MICHAEL ANGELO. Now you and Lady Julia shall resume The conversation that I interrupted.
VITTORIA. It was of no great import; nothing more Nor less than my late visit to Ferrara, And what I saw there in the ducal palace. Will it not interrupt you?
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Not the least.
VITTORIA. Well, first, then, of Duke Ercole: a man Cold in his manners, and reserved and silent, And yet magnificent in all his ways; Not hospitable unto new ideas, But from state policy, and certain reasons Concerning the investiture of the duchy, A partisan of Rome, and consequently Intolerant of all the new opinions.
JULIA. I should not like the Duke. These silent men, Who only look and listen, are like wells That have no water in them, deep and empty. How could the daughter of a king of France Wed such a duke?
MICHAEL ANGELO.
The men that women marry
And why they marry them, will always be
A marvel and a mystery to the world.
VITTORIA. And then the Duchess,—how shall I describe her, Or tell the merits of that happy nature, Which pleases most when least it thinks of pleasing? Not beautiful, perhaps, in form and feature, Yet with an inward beauty, that shines through Each look and attitude and word and gesture; A kindly grace of manner and behavior, A something in her presence and her ways That makes her beautiful beyond the reach Of mere external beauty; and in heart So noble and devoted to the truth, And so in sympathy with all who strive After the higher life.
JULIA. She draws me to her As much as her Duke Ercole repels me.