Violante [halting and hesitating]
Have you forgotten the first time you saw my face
And sent a sonnet to me?... It seems but a day
Since you were awed by my nobility....
And when I let you press your burning lips
Against my hand, you swore it made you God!
[Sadly]
From that time it was not far to my mouth....
And, after that, what with the shining moon,
And nightingales beginning in the dusk,
And songs and music that you made for me—
In a little while I was entirely yours!...
Florio
Remember that young nobleman who died
For love of you?... I was your pastime, merely that!
And so I sipped what honey came my way.
But why do you come now?
Did you not leave me without a word?
Violante
My father....
[Sombrely] My father whom the Pestilence has smitten—
Florio [quickly]
You sent me no message.