ACT IV.—SCENE I.
A Church.
Enter two Citizens.
first citizen.
Strange omens these!
second citizen.
They bode disaster, else
Hath Nature changed, and her accustom'd course
No longer holds.—See, from the ducal vault
The stone—o'er which its mailed warrior rests
In such grim pomp—is roll'd, as if that mouth
Expectant yawn'd for prey.—How comes it thus?
third citizen.
Some swarth attendant, late within the tomb,
Hath left unclosed its yet insatiate gulf;
And he returns ere long.—His task complete,
This stone, oft visited, regains its place;—
Would it were closed for ever!
second citizen.
Ne'er to his country's weal a truer prince
Shall rise in Mantua—all proper tongues
To his just praise are eloquent;—no voice
But gathers blessing, when it speaks of Andrea.
I'll peep o'er the dark wall of this huge grave.
Fresh wonders still!—Here lie funeral trappings
Covering the entrance;—an inscription too
Upon the pall—[Reads]—"Andrea, the fifth Duke
Of Mantua"—a goodly list of honours,
Names and illustrious acts, now follow—"Died"—
I cannot tell those mystic characters—
Canst thou assign their import?
first citizen.
I am not skill'd
To interpret mysteries; but they are form'd
By cabalistic art. Elsewhere I've seen
The conjuror, Aldenbert, those uncouth shapes
Upon his tablets tracing. 'Tis not language
Akin to mortal tongue.