[Clarice dyes her golden hair deeper.
ANGELA.
There is a whisper that the Duke was seen,
Masked, at dead midnight....
LUCREZIA.
[Starting.] He will keep his chamber;
He sleeps by day. I were ashamed
To play to him the Pope of Christendom;
I could not play it—I should flow no laughter.
Haste, Clarice, haste, I am longing
For Messer Saracini and his news
Of when I shall be married.
Angela
How long, how long I wait!
A woman is a prisoner till a husband
Unlock her to her aim. When I am giddy
With dancing for my father, I recall
What Messer Saracini tells me often
Of the quiet, ordered court and the proud pomp
Of the old Este castle.... Don Alfonso,
So full of occupation with his cannon,
Artillery as brilliant as my brother’s;
But he himself in careless trim, as sons
Of an old princely house may dare to be.
Clarice, my tresses wide as sun-rays!
[Her hair is spread over a frame.] Bid
The Chamberlain bring Messer Saracini. [Exit Clarice.
ANGELA.
A tent of yellow silk! I peep at you,
White, captive lady, Don Alfonso’s bride.
LUCREZIA.
Hush, hush!
Enter Messer Saracini with Clarice.