1st Girl.That she? No, or she would sing,
For the Intendant said—
3rd Girl.Oh, you sing first!70
Then, if she listens and comes close—I'll tell you—
Sing that song the young English noble made,
Who took you for the purest of the pure,
And meant to leave the world for you—what fun!
2nd Girl [sings].
You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry75
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.
I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike80
And yield—what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.
You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.85
What's death? You'll love me yet!
3rd Girl [to Pippa, who approaches.] Oh, you may
come closer—we shall not eat you! Why, you seem the
very person that the great rich handsome Englishman has
fallen so violently in love with. I'll tell you all about it.90
IV.—NIGHT
Scene.—Inside the Palace by the Duomo. Monsignor, dismissing his Attendants.
Monsignor. Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly
desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you.
Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?
Benedicto benedicatur—ugh, ugh! Where was
I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is5
mild, very unlike winter weather; but I am a Sicilian, you
know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when
'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross
in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you
might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in10
two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves
in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the
Intendant.] Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment.]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.