[BACK]          [Blueprint]         [NEXT]

————————

The Works of Aretino, Volume 1, translated into English by Samuel Putnam; pp. 258-281.

[Permission to use this text has been kindly granted by Dr. Hilary Putnam-- with profound thanks]



[258]


Picture of a hude girl with two small horns on her head, giving a letter to an eagle and riding a bull, by Marquis de Bayros.


259

ACT FIFTH

(Valerio comes in.)

VAL.  I’ve just been relieved of a great doubt. I say this because I used to believe that faces and tongues corresponded to hearts and minds, and this belief came from the knowledge I had of my own ability and the consciousness that I had made an amiable use of my ability towards all; and for the one reason and the other, I has thought that I was not merely loved but adored, and now I can say; Oh, my credulity, how you have deceived me! Oh, the perverse, ungrateful and envious nature of the Court! Is there any malevolence in the world, is there any deceit in the world, and is there any cruelty in the world which are not to be found in it? As soon as my Lord changed his attitude toward me, the love, the faith, the countenances and the minds of all his household dropped that mask which for so long a time had concealed from me the truth, and now, every vile servant abhors me, as if I were a venomous serpent, and as it used to seem the very walls bowed to me, so now it seems they flee me. And those who used to praise me to the skies now condemn me to the abyss. Every one is pushing to get into the master’s presence, and they show in their bearing the same humanity that is to be seen in those who demand without asking and speak without opening their mouths; and everyone with his gestures and his words forces himself to show a disdain for my present condition. One, fearing I may return to my former state, merely shrugs his shoulders and is careful not to offend or defend me; another, certain that his desires have 260 been fulfilled, transfixes me without any respect whatever. And so it is, envy, which is the mother and daughter of the Court, has already begun to make them strive together, and he who is nearest in rank to the one who has fallen is assailed by whoever is a rung lower on the ladder of hope. (1) In short, each one, seeking elevation through my fall, wounds, me and exalts himself. And in such a plight, it seems to me, I am like a river with which every little stream vies when, swollen by rains, it overflows and makes a bed of the surrounding land. But I trust to my innocence to protect me from their haughty malice just as the rivulets which trust to the sun to destroy the snow and ice of the mountains are swallowed up by the plains which they have so impetuously presumed to dominate. And since patience disarms envy, I shall strive with patience to cut the cords with which my fate, as I may say, has bound me; for every benefit and every injury is to be placed to the account of fate. And now, I want to go home, for, to live at Court it is to be presupposed that one is deaf, dumb, and blind.

(He goes out. Togna comes in.)

TOGNA.  I want to see if that old drunkard has come back yet. I hope he falls and breaks a leg. It’s too bad the devil hasn’t sense enough to take him when he’s snoring away in the tavern. Do I see him coming there? I hope who ever gave me such a husband dies a terrible death. I ought to give him something, and I wouldn’t be the first wife who did such a thing as that. There’s the big pig now. He looks fresh enough. He’s got three sheets in the wind already. (2)

ARC.  W-where is the d-door, h-house, the w-window are d-dancing, I’ll f-fall in the r-river.

261

TOGNA.  I wish to God you would! Who bought you the wine you’ve been drinking?

ARC.  Wine your r-rump. Ha, ha, ha! B-bring me the d-dog that I w-wanted to get . . .

TOGNA.  You get what you deserve. I don’t know why I don’t choke you.

ARC.  Oh, oh, but I’m h-hot!

(They go out, Parabolano and Rosso come in.)

PAR.  Waiting is as hard as death.

ROSSO.  Waiting for dinner?

PAR.  I was speaking of love.

ROSSO.  Oh, I thought you were speaking of dinner, your Lordship, pardon me.

PAR.  There’s nothing to pardon. Listen: one, two, three.

ROSSO.  You’re crazy; the cook bangs the frying-pan, and you think it is a clock. The devil take all women, assassins that they are.

PAR.  Let’s go into the house. I thought it was time. That’s why I came out.

ROSSO.  These old fellow with bats in their belfry will drive me crazy yet.

(They go out.)

(Togna comes in, in her husband’s clothes.)

T OGNA.  Oh God, why wasn’t I born a man? How do I look in these clothes? It is a great misfortune to be born a woman, and after all, what are we women good for? To cook, to sew, and to stay locked up in the house all year, and for what? To be beaten and insulted every day, and by whom? By a big drunkard and a lazy dolt like this old sport of mine. Oh poor we, what a lot is ours! If your man is a gambler and loses, it is you who are out of luck; if he has no money, it falls on you; if wine takes him off his pegs, it is you who bear the blame; and they are so jealous they think every fly is making or talking love. And if it wasn’t that we have brains enough to make sport of them, we might as well go hang ourselves. It is a great sin that the preacher 262 doesn’t put in a word for us with the Lord, for it is not right that one like me should go to hell simply for having a husband like the one God has given me. And if the confessor gives me a penance for what I am doing, I hope I die if I don’t say to him, for once: “Would you give a penance to a poor unfortunate woman who has for a husband a brute, a gambler, a tavern-hound, a jealous fool and a dog of a gardener?” But Alvigia must be expecting me. I must go find her. What man is that I see there?

(She goes out. Andrea comes in.)

AND.  Old master dung-hill has fallen on Camilla’s back like a kite on a full meal, and he tells her his love with innumerable oaths and kisses her hand like a passionate Don Sancio. He slashes away in the Neapolitan manner, sighs in the Spanish manner, laughs in the manner of a Sanese, and prays in the manner of a Courtier; and he wants to copulate in all the fashions there are in the world, till the Signora nearly bursts with laughter. But here’s Zoppino. You disappeared before, like meat in the servant’s hall.

(Zoppino comes in.)

ZOPP.  I left because the silliness of your Sanese was getting on my nerves.

AND.  By God, but you speak the truth; it is beginning to bore me too.

ZOPP.  You know what I’m afraid will happen?

AND.  What?

ZOPP.  I’m afraid by mingling with him we shall become as foolish as he is. But I’ve an idea. Let’s change cloaks and barrettas and, with brave words, assault the Signora’s house and make him jump out of the window. The window is so low he can’t hurt himself.

AND.  That’s a good idea. Here, take mine, and give me yours.

ZOPP.  Give me your barretta and take mine.

263

AND.  In this disguise they will never recognize us.

ZOPP.  Force the door, yell, hurl defiance.

AND.  Ah, coward! Chippy-chaser, traitor!

ZOPP.  I’ll have the law on you!

AND.  Open up! open up!

(Maco leaps out of the window in his giubbone. Andrea and Zoppino run out.)

MACO.  I’m done for! To the street, to the street! Spaniards are after me! Where shall I go? Where shall I flee! Where shall I hide myself?

(He goes out. Parabolano and Rosso come running in.)

PAR.  What’s the matter, Rosso? What’s all the uproar?

ROSSO.  I ask your Lordship.

PAR.  I don’t see anyone.

ROSSO.  Let us go back, it was just some lazy jokers, beating their swords against the wall.

PAR.  The beasts.

(They go out. Arcolano comes in, dressed in his wife’s clothes.)

ARC.  The whore, the cow, the sow! I ought to give her to the Friars, I ought. Oh, oh, oh! Go pass blood. I wonder to what hole she’s gone now? A wife knows them all! I barely closed my eyes when she put on my clothes and ran out, leaving her own on the bed-chest, and, not to run out naked, I had to put on hers to follow her. I must think where I can find her, and when I’ve found her, I’ll eat her alive! I must go here and go there, but it would be better for me to go to the ponte and wait till she passes. So you would, would you? Ribald traitress!

(He goes out. Parabolano and Rosso come in.)

PAR.  How many was that?

ROSSO.  I don’t know because I didn’t count.

PAR.  I heard it strike one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

ROSSO.  You’ll soon be playing rumps with Livia. (3)

264

PAR.  You make me laugh.

ROSSO.  Look, there’s someone with a lantern in her hand. It is Alvigia. I know her by her walk. Am I right?

(Alvigia comes in.)

ALV.  By my grace and yours, your friend is in my house, and she’s like a dove who fears the falcon. Your Lordship will not forget about not taking her into the light; and since, for appearance’s sake, she has come dressed as a man, I doubt not there will be no scandal.

PAR.  How, a scandal? I would sooner open all my veins than displease her.

ALV.  So say all of you Lords, and then you go and do good women in.

PAR.  I don’t understand.

ALV.  Rosso understands me right enough.

ROSSO.  No, I don’t, by God.

PAR.  What scandal can come from her being dressed as a man?

ALV.  The devil is subtle, and the gran Maestri are always wide-awake.

ROSSO.  I get you now. Master, she’s afraid of what will be said afterwards.

PAR.  Hell’s fire, (4) and I hope it burns anyone who would tell on a lady.

ROSSO.  Don’t swear such an oath as that.

PAR.  Why?

ROSSO.  Because it would empty the world of Signori and of great men.

PAR.  Let us go.

ALV.  I trust to your Lordship; wait here till I come back to you.

(She goes out.)

ROSSO.  Your face looks altogether different.

PAR.  Mine?

ROSSO.  Yours.

PAR  Overcome by sovereign love . . .

265

ROSSO.  What’s that?

PAR.  I am unable to say a word.

ROSSO.  It’s a silly fellow that’s afraid to speak a word to a lady. Your Lordship has a face whiter than the faces of those whom, at Venice, those Excellent doctors, Carlo da Fano, Polo Romano, Dio Nisio Capucci of the Città di Castello, bring to life from the dead.

PAR.  He who loves, fears.

ROSSO.  He who loves, has a good time, as you will be having very soon.

PAR.  O most blessed night, dearer to me than all the happy days of those who rejoice in fortune’s favor. I would not change place with those souls who, in the Heavens above, are happy in contemplating the aspect of the wonderful God. O serene forehead, O sacred breast, O golden hair, O precious hands, the treasury of my singular Phoenix! Can it be true, then, that I am worthy of admiring you, of kissing you and of touching you? O sweet mouth, adorned with pearls without flaw, amid which breathes the most nectarous odor. Can it be you will consent that I, who am all fire, should moisten my dry lips in the celestial ambrosia which you so sweetly distill? O divine eyes, which lend light to the Sun, which comes to nest in you when the day is done, will you not illuminate with your benign rays my bedroom and put to flight those inimical shadows which contend to keep me from the sight of that angel on whom my life depends?

ROSSO.  Your Lordship has made a great proem.

PAR.  Thus do I bind great things in a little bundle. (5)

(Alvigia comes in.)

ALV.  Be quiet, for the love of God. Don’t make a sound.

ROSSO.  Tell me, Alvigia . . .

ALV.  Quiet, the neighbors, the neighbors will hear; see that 266 you don’t make any noise. Oimè, what a risk to run.

ROSSO  Don’t be afraid.

ALV.  Quiet, quiet. Give me your hand, my Lord.

PAR.  Oh, how happy I am!

ALV.  Easy, my Lord.

ROSSO.  I had forgot one thing . . .

ALV.  You want to ruin us. They’ll hear us. Damn this squeaking door.

(Alvigia and Parabolano go out.)

ROSSO.  If you’re lucky, you’ll eat her; if you’re unlucky, you’ll find yourself eating cow’s meat of the kind the poor servants do in their hall. There’s only one thing I’m sorry for, and that is that Alvigia hasn’t in the house Sgozza, Roina, Squartapoggio, or some other pimp who would cut his throat, draw and quarter him.

(Alvigia comes back.)

What are you laughing at? Has he come to the point with the Signora Fornaia?

ALV.  He is with her and neighing like a stallion that sees the mare. He sighs, he spits, he slashes, and he promises to make her a Popess.

ROSSO.  That comes from his Neapolitan nature, if he slashes.

ALV.  Is that simpleton a Neapolitan?

ROSSO.  Didn’t you know it?

ALV.  No.

ROSSO.  He’s a relative of Giovanni Agnese.

ALV.  Of that bird who goes around looking in key-holes?

ROSSO.  Of that swindler, that knave and that traitor, whose least vice is to be an infamous fisherman.

ALV.  What a rascal and what a glutton! But let’s not talk of him; it’s a shame to mention such a dolt, trickster and pimp, saving my own honor. But what are you thinking of?

ROSSO.  I’m thinking, we’re treating the master like a gran maestro.

ALV.  How’s that?

ROSSO.  By making him acquainted with Togna.

267

ALV.  Ha, ha, ha!

ROSSO.  And after this, I think maybe I’ll get out of the servants’ hall; it makes me tremble even to think of it; I have more fear of the servant’s hall than a thousand masters.

ALV.  And if the thing is discovered, won’t you be afraid?

ROSSO.  Why should I be afraid? I’ll take to my legs.

ALV.  Tell me, is the servants’ hall such a terrible thing that it makes even a Rosso tremble?

ROSSO.  It is so terrible that it would frighten Morgante and Margutte, not to speak of that Catellaccio, whose least accomplishment was to eat a wether, two pairs of capons, and a hundred eggs at a meal.

ALV.  He’s a man after my own heart, your Messer Catellaccio.

ROSSO.  Alvigia, while that old vulture is in there, getting his fill of that carrion-hag, I want to say a couple of words to you about that gentle institution, the servants’ hall. (6)

ALV.  Do, please.

ROSSO.  If evil fortune forces you to go into the servants’ hall, you will find, as soon as you enter, a place that reminds you of a dark, dank tomb, so horrible that sepulchres are a hundred times more inviting. And if you have ever seen the prison of the Corte Savello, when it is full of prisoners, you have seen the servants’ hall full of servants at eating-time. Yes, the servants’ hall is like a prison, but prisons are more comfortable, for in winter the prisoners are as warm as in summer, while the servants’ halls in summer are boiling and in winter are so cold that your words freeze in your mouth; and the smell of the prison is less displeasing than the stink of the servants’ hall, for the former comes from the prisoners and the latter from dying men.

268

ALV.  You have reason to fear it.

ROSSO.  But listen. They eat off a table-cloth of more colors than a painter’s apron, and if it were not improper, I should say of more colors than those pieces of cloth which women soil when they are sick.

ALV.  Ehu, ehu, ohe, ohe!

ROSSO.  It makes you want to vomit to think of it. And do you know where they wash that tablecloth at the end of a meal?

ALV.  Where?

ROSSO.  In the pig’s grease of the candles which were burned the night before, although very often we eat without any light, and that is fortunate, for in the dark our stomachs do not turn at sight of the rascally repasts they bring us, which, starving as we are, satisfy us and, satisfying us, drives us to despair.

ALV.  May God damn the one that’s to blame for that.

ROSSO.  Neither God nor the devil could do worse. We may never keep Easter nor Carnival, but all the year around we keep the feast of the mother of St. Luke.

ALV.  Do you eat the flesh of Saints?

ROSSO.  And of the Crucified also; although that is not why I am telling you this. I am telling you because St. Luke is pictured as an ox, and the mother of an ox?

ALV.  As a cow. Ha, ha!

ROSSO.  And then come the fruits. When the melons, artichokes, figs, grapes and plums are rotten enough to be thrown away, they give them to us. Sometimes, it is true, in place of the fruits, they give us four slices of buffalo cheese, so dry and hard it gives us a colic that would kill a Marforio; and if anyone, with a thousand supplications, begs the cook for a platter of thin soup, they give him a plate of lye.

ALV.  Don’t they give you good soup?

ROSSO.  Like that the Friars have. Do you know why so many Friars leave their orders? It is for no other reason than on account of the soup.

269

ALV.  You mean to say . . . yes, yes, I understand.

ROSSO.  I mean to say, they kill the soup, as the Court kills the faith of those who serve it. But who could tell you all the treasons of the servants’ hall, when Lent comes with its fast days? And they do this from their own stinginess and not for the good of our souls.

ALV.  Why speak of the soul?

ROSSO.  Lent comes, and look you, for dinner you have two anchovies to go around, as an antipasto; they then bring on a few Sardinian herbs, burned and not cooked, accompanied by a certain bean soup, without salt and without oil, which is enough to make anyone curse heaven. Then, in the evening, we make a supper on ten nettle leaves as a salad, a small loaf of bread, and God help you.

ALV.  What a shame!

ROSSO.  All this would be a light matter, if they only showed us a little mercy in the dog-days. Then, in addition to the horrible perfume which comes from the bone-piles, covered with filth that is never swept up and with enough flies to fill a city, you are given to drink wine diluted with tepid water, which, before you taste it, has stood four hours to settle in a wooden vase; and all drink out of a single pewter cup which all the water in the Tiber would not be able to wash clean; and while they are eating, it is a fine sight to see this one wiping his hands on his stockings, this one on his cloak, another on his jerkin and another against the wall. (6)

ALV.  How terrible! And is this true of all of them?

ROSSO.  Of all of them. And for a greater torment, we have to gulp it down posthaste in the manner of kites.

ALV.  Who keeps you from eating at your leisure?

ROSSO.  That respectable man, the reverend steward, with the music of his baton. When he has sounded twice a laetamus genua, we have to rise. And it’s a shame! We 270 are not only not allowed to have our fill of food, we cannot even have our fill of words.

ALV.  The steward is a knave!

ROSSO.  Once in a lifetime they give you a banquet. If you could see that procession of heads, feet, neck, carcasses, bones and skeletons, you would think you were watching that procession which you see at San Marco on Master Pasquin’s day. Just as, on that day, parsons, archpriests, canons and similar gentry carry in their hands the relics of martyrs and confessors, so these doorkeepers stewards, spies and other leprous and lousy officials come bearing a capon and partridges, and having first set aside a portion for themselves and their whores, they toss the rest to us.

ALV.  What a life!

ROSSO.  Alvigia, I saw one yesterday who, upon hearing the dinner bell, began weeping as one would for the death of his father. When I asked him why he was weeping, he replied: “I am weeping because that bell is calling us to eat the bread of sorrow, to drink our own blood, and to feed on the flesh of our own life, cooked in our own sweat.” And he was a Prelate who told me that, who had that evening four nuts to break his fast, while the chamberlain had three, a shield-bearer two and myself one.

ALV.  Do the Prelates eat in the servants’ hall?

ROSSO.  It is all the same; and that is the reason why everyone does not come to Rome. And yet, they are rich enough.

ALV.  Blessed be the Spaniards. (7)

ROSSO.  Yes, if they had punished the wicked and not the good. It is the truth, as that Prelate I told you of, he of the four nuts, swore to me, they are richer than ever; and he says that when they are reproved for letting 271 their household die of hunger, they blame it on the Sack and not on their own poltroonery.

ALV.  I can see that you know them all. But what’ this I hear? A racket in the house? We’re undone, ruined, keep still . . . Oimè! That’s the Signor raising his voice. We shall be discovered. I deserve all that’s coming to me for running such a risk on account of you.

ROSSO.  Be quiet. I want to hear what they’re saying.

ALV.  Put your ear to the door.

ROSSO.  That’s a good idea.

ALV.  What are they saying?

ROSSO.  Cow, she-pig, poltroon, traitor, pimp, thief.

ALV.  Who is that meant for?

ROSSO.  Cow, she-pig, that’s for Togna. Poltroon, traitor, that means Rosso. And pimp, thief, that’s Alvigia.

ALV.  Damn the day I met you.

ROSSO.  He’s saying he’s going to break her in two, burn you alive, and hang me. A rivederci.

(He runs out.)

ALV.  So, you run away, you big glutton! I’m in a pretty pickle. I make a vow that if I get out of this I’ll fast all the Fridays in March, I’ll go to all the six churches ten times every month. I’ll go barefoot; I promise to make acqua cotta for the incurables; I’ll make clysters for the sick of Santo Joanni for a year. I’ll wait on the religious; I’ll go wash clothes at the hospital eight days for nothing. And if I have deceived the saints in my other vows, I won’t in this. Blessed Angelo Raffaello, I beg you by your wings to aid me; Messer San Tubia, I beg you by your fish, keep me out of hell-fire; Messer San Giuliano, save me by your rosary which I’m going home now to say

(She runs out. Parabolano comes in.)

PAR.  I have been the victim of a groom and an old procuress, and I’ve got what I deserve. Now I know how silly it is for one like me, on account of what he is, to believe 273 that he can have anything he wants, and, blinded by delusions of his own grandeur, to refuse to listen to good advice or the truth. Thinking only of our own lascivious desires, we hate and drive away from us those who propose what is fitting to our station. To this, my Valerio can bear witness. I am a fool, and I can hear even now the story of my stupidity being shouted over Rome. There’s Valerio now. He looks sad.

(Enter Valerio.)

VAL  Signor mio, since the envy of my enemies has conquered your kindness, I, with your permission, will go away some place where you shall never hear of me again.

PAR.  Do not weep, brother. Love, my own rash will and simple nature, are the things which have offended you. I will tell you one of the most novel jokes that was ever heard of in a thousand years, and one that ought to be enough for a hundred comedies. You know how I used to laugh at Messer Filippo Adimari, who, when he was in Leo’s house, was led to believe that those who were working on the foundations of his casa at Trastevere had found a number of bronze statues; whereupon he, alone, on foot and in his cassock, ran to have a look at them. He found himself in the same plight in which I am, thanks to the joke Rosso has played on me.

VAL  Rosso, eh? He never deceived me.

PAR.  You know, too, the laugh I had over the wax figure which Messer Marco Bracci found under his pillow, on account of which he caused Signora Marticca, who happened to be sleeping with him that night, to be arrested, being convinced that it was a piece of witchcraft on her part.

VAL  Ha, ha, ha!

PAR.  What good fun I used to have at the expense of Messer 273 Francesco Tornabuoni for taking twelve syrups and a medicine, though not sick at all, being certain he had the syphilis.

VAL  I know all those things.

PAR.  And now, what do you advise me to do in such a case?

VAL  I should snap my fingers at all gossip, and I myself should tell the joke just as it is; for that way there will be less of a laugh, and it will not get about so much.

PAR.  You speak like a wise man. Wait here till I have a word with her whom I took for a Roman gentlewoman.

(Parabolano goes out.)

VAL  It is a thing well-known to everybody that he alone is master of his Lord who holds the keys to his pleasures and his appetites; and if anyone doubts this, he needs but look at what Rosso has done to me. All Rosso knows is how to promise to bring, not how to bring ladies to his Lordship. The short of the matter is, gran maestri have more esteem for those who give them pleasure than they have for all the glory in the world; and I believe that anyone who had attained such a rank would do the same.

(Enter Parabolano with Alvigia and Togna.)

PAR.  So you thought I wouldn’t find you?

ALV.  Mercy and not justice.

PAR.  What the devil do you mean, I told Rosso in his sleep?

ALV.  In your sleep you let Rosso know that you were in love with Livia.

PAR.  Ha, ha, ha!

ALV.  From being too compassionate I’ve put my foot in it.

PAR.  Too compassionate, eh?

ALV.  Signor, si. When Rosso swore that you were on the point of dying for Livia, not to see so fine a youth and so fine a Signor perish. I did what I did.

PAR.  I am greatly obliged to you. Ha, ha, ha! And now tell me something. Come here, madonna Filatoia. But I did not notice you were dressed like a baker.

274

TOGNA  Signor, this old sorceress has dragged me into her house by the hair of the head, through necromancy.

ALV.  That’s a lie, you old gossip, you pile of mule dung!

TOGNA  It’s not!

ALV.  It is!

PAR.  Peace, and leave the screaming to me, as well as the laughing.

VAL.  On all occasions I have known you for a wise man, and now on this one, I regard you as most wife; I understand the whole thing now, and it is truly to laugh. But who is this with the beard, dressed like a woman?

(Arcolano enters.)

ARC.  I’ve got you! I’ve found you! And you, old traitress, are you here? I’ll kill you both! Don’t hold me, my good fellow.

PAR.  Stand back.

ARC.  Let me punish my wife and this old she-ruffian.

VAL.  Hold your temper. Ha, ha, ha!

ARC.  You would, would you, you whore! You would, would you, you ruffian!

VAL.  Ha, ha, ha!

TOGNA  You lie, you big loafer.

ALV.  Sire Arcolano, you speak the truth.

PAR.  Is this your wife?

ARC.  Yes, sir.

PAR.  She looks to me like your husband. Ha, ha, ha! (Arcolano draws a dagger.) Here, put up that dagger! It would be a sin to turn so fine a comedy into a tragedy.

(Messer Maco comes in. Arcolano, Togna and Alvigia go out.)

MACO.  The Spaniards! The Spaniards!

PAR.  Here’s Messer Maco.

MACO.  The Spaniards have cut me to pieces.

PAR.  What business have you with the Spaniards?

MACO.  Let me get my breath. I — I — I —

PAR.  Well?

275

MACO.  W — went ——

VAL.  Where?

MACO.  W-went, had gone, had — went to the — to the Signora Ca — Camilla — I don’t seem to be able to get myself together. Wait a minute, if you want to hear the story. Maestro Andrea had made me a Courtier with the moulds, and the devil ruined me; then Maestro Andrea repaired, ruined, and repaired me again, till I was made over into the fine gallant you see. I went to the house of Signora Camilla, because I had a right to go there, I had a right, because I am a Courtier, I am. And the Spaniards made me jump out of a window, I think it was — high, very high.

PAR.  You can’t teach an old dog new tricks; but surely, God must help children and madmen.

MACO.  What do you mean?

PAR.  The way he helped you, who were first ruined and then repaired. The trouble is, most of us come to Rome repaired and leave it undone, without finding anyone who will take the trouble to make us over or to keep us from ruin in the end. There is no respect for nobility, good sense or any virtue whatsoever.

(Rosso and Andrea come in. Andrea is bearing Maco’s coat and barretta.)

MACO.  There’s one of those Spaniards now! Aha, poltroon! Give me my cloak! Don’t hold me!

PAR.  Ha, ha, ha! Why, that’s your own Maestro Andrea!

AND.  Don’t be angry, Messer Maco.

MACO.  Spanish knave!

AND.  I am Maestro Andrea, and I’ve just killed the one who took your cloak and barretta and have brought them back to you.

MACO.  What do you mean, Maestro Andrea? You are the Spaniard. I’ll have your life!

VAL.  Ha, ha, ha! Keep your head, put your wrath back in the scabbard.

(Alvigia, the Fisherman and the Jew come in.)

276

FISH.  So you thought you’d get away from me, you cheat? You thought you’d be safe at night? You thought you could treat a Florentine like this and get out of it clean?

ROSSO.  You wrong me; you’ve made a mistake.

FISH.  I’ve got you. Where are my lampreys, you traitorous glutton?

VAL.  Our Rosso . . .

(The Fisherman leaps at Rosso.)

PAR.  Take him away, take him away. Don’t kill our comedy.

FISH.  Let me break that thief’s neck who got ten lampreys from me on pretence of being the Pope’s steward; and on account of him, the Maestro di Casa, as I thought, I’ve had to stand at the Colonna as one bewitched.

PAR.  Ha, ha, ha! Gallant Rosso.

ROSSO.  (Dropping on his knees.) Signor mio, pardon, and don’t punish me. I am your Lordship’s slave and Maestro Valerio’s, and you know well enough this good fellow has made a mistake.

PAR.  Get up, ha, ha, ha!

ROSSO.  Alvigia here has your diamond and your necklace.

VAL.  Ha, ha, ha! You thought . . .

ALV.  I’ll give them back to you. Rosso, the big glutton has kept me on the jump. (7)

ROSSO.  You’ve done the same to Rosso, you old ribald, and I’m going to see that you are punished. (He makes for her.)

PAR.  Stand back, I tell you. Ha, ha, ha! We’ll be lucky if this doesn’t end in a tragedy yet.

JEW.  I want my doublet. This is the way they deceive poor Hebrews. Oimè, my arms! The lash is the pay I get. O swinish Rome, what fine manners you have! But the devil would not be willing for the Messiah to come, of things were otherwise.

PAR.  Be quite, Isaac or Jacob, or whatever your name is. It’s pay enough for you to let you live, since your are one of those who crucified Christ.

277

JEW.  Patience!

(Maco, Andrea, Arcolano and Togna come in.)

PAR.  Be quiet, all of you. I will speak first with you, Messer Maco.

MACO.  That’s right, because I am a Courtier, I am.

PAR.  Ha, ha, ha! You will make peace here with Maestro Andrea, or the Spaniard, as you believe him to be. If you look upon him as a maestro, make peace with him for having undone and then remade you; and moreover, reflect that he would have done the same to his own father, if his father had wanted to be made a courtier in the way he made one out of you. And if you look upon him as a Spaniard, make peace with him, anyway; and the reason for that I will tell you another time.

MACO.  I’ll make peace with him.

PAR.  Give him his cloak and his barretta, Maestro Andrea.

AND.  Your Lordship’s servant.

MACO.  That’s a good fellow.

PAR.  You, baker, take back your wife for better or for worse; for the wives of today are looked upon a more chaste when they are whores. And he who thinks he has a better one has a worse.

ARC.  I will do what your Lordship advises.

VAL.  And you are wise.

PAR.  I pardon you, Alvigia, because it was wrong to believe in you in the first place and because you have only followed your profession.

ALV.  God reward you.

VAL.  Ha, ha, ha!

PAR.  I will also pardon you, Rosso, because you are a Greek, and have only acted in the manner of a Greek, with the astuteness of a Greek. And you, Valerio, be content to reconcile yourself with Rosso, since I have forgiven him, and since he has had the genius to lead me around by the nose in the manner I’ve told you.

VAL.  I am wholly at your bidding.

278

ROSSO.  You know, Messer Valerio, that Rosso would let himself be drawn and quartered for you.

VAL.  Ha, ha, ha!

FISH.  And am I to go without pay for my lampreys?

PAR.  You, Fisherman, are to pardon Rosso, since there is so little of the Florentine in you that you let yourself traffic with him as you have said. And as to this Jewish beast, let Valerio see that he is satisfied; let his jerkin be given back or paid for.

FISH.  Gran mercè to your Lordship.

JEW.  Your Lordship’s servant.

FISH.  I’ll pardon Rosso, but not those traitorous priests who flayed me.

PAR.  Go to with your priests, who dressed your breeches for you at the Colonna. And now you, Valerio, making every excuse for me, forgive me for what I did to you in the insanity of love; and remember, moreover, it is not a little thing for one of my rank to seek forgiveness from an inferior. Now, good Baker, he who has horns under his feet and does not put them on his head is a beast. (8)

ARC.  The devil he is.

PAR.  Certainly, for horns are very ancient and come form above, and it is my opinion that God put them on Moses with his own hand, and the same with the moon; and since both Moses and the moon have horns, they are not what they appear to you to be; the Moon with its horns adorns the heavens and Moses the Old Testament.

ARC.  By that, you give me to understand my disease is a health.

PAR.  Why not? All good things have horns. Oxen, snails, and what do you think of the winged-horns? Their horns are worth a world and are good against poison. 279 And what do you think the horn of a man is worth, when that of an animal is so valuable and has such virtues? The horns of men are good against poverty, etc. And many gentlemen bear them as arms.

ARC.  Be that as it may; for, as you see, I’ve given mine to one who would never believe it; it is enough that he is what you say he is.

PAR.  And now, Monna Loathe-Little, come kiss your husband.

ARC.  Yes, come give me a kiss.

TOGNA.  Go ’way from me, old soak; don’t touch me!

ARC.  Ah, cruel woman, why have you betrayed me?

TOGNA.  What would you have me do when a gentleman makes advances? Throw him to the pigs?

VAL.  She’s right. Ha, ha, ha!

ALV.  Signor, since you are such a gentle creature, I’ll give you what Livia didn’t. For she, if you take away what little face she has, (9) is not very chipper.

PAR.  You’ll give me nothing more, by God. Ha, ha, ha! She’s of a mind to do me again! Valerio, let’s all go into the house. I want all of these comedians to dine with me, and I want you to hear the whole story. We will laugh together all night, and in every way it is Carnival time.

VAL.  Here is the house, Maestro Andrea, bring up the rear with this rabble. Maestro Maco, your Lordship should enter first.

MACO.  Gran mercè. But his Lordship, the Signor Rapolano should enter first.

PAR.  Let us go. Let us go and dine and laugh till morning.

(They go out, with the exception of Rosso, who remains behind.)

ROSSO.  And now, folks, if you blame the length of our discourse, know that we merely have followed the fashion in use at Court. Knowing that at Rome all things run 280 to length, to have done otherwise would have been to court ruin. And so, we hope you will praise our long chitter-chatter, for it could not all be told in saecula saeculorum.






The End.






FOOTNOTES

1 See Letters, CIX.

2 cammina a onde.

3 far gemini dei tarocchi con.

4 Fuoco venga dal cielo.

5 The line is lifted from Petrarch [Trionf della fama, Cap II.]: Molto gran cose in picciol fascio stringo.

6 We must remember Aretino himself, when he first came to Rome, had been a servant, of one grade or another, in the house of Agostino Cigi and perhaps in other houses.

7 An example of Aretino’s “unpleasant” realism.

8 Who sacked Rome.

9 mi ha messo ne’ salti.

10 Follows a play on the cuckold idea.

11 quel suo poco di viso: cf. Boccaccio [Dec. VIII., 7]: Cotesto tuo pachetto di viso.



[281]

Picture of a seated nude girl on a pedestal, with crossed legs, running necklaces through her hands, by Marquis de Bayros.


[End of Volume I of The Works of Pietro Aretino, by Samuel Putnam]

[end-



papers]







————————

[BACK]          [Blueprint]         [NEXT]