We do ask,—but, inspire replyTo the Court thou bidst me ask, as I have asked—Oh thou, who vigilantly dost attendTo even the few, the ineffectual wordsWhich rise from this our low and mundane sphereUp to thy region out of smoke and noise,Seeking corroboration from thy nodWho art all justice—which means mercy too,In a low noisy smoky world like oursWhere Adam's sin made peccable his seed!We venerate the father of the flock,Whose last faint sands of life, the frittered gold,Fall noiselessly, yet all too fast, o' the coneAnd tapering heap of those collected years:Never have these been hurried in their flow,Though justice fain would jog reluctant arm,In eagerness to take the forfeitureOf guilty life: much less shall mercy sueIn vain that thou let innocence survive,Precipitate no minim of the massO' the all-so precious moments of thy life,By pushing Guido into death and doom!(Our Cardinal engages to go readThe Pope my speech, and point its beauties out.They say, the Pope has one half-hour, in twelve,Of something like a moderate returnOf the intellectuals,—never much to lose!—If I adroitly plant this passage there,The Fisc will find himself forestalled, I think,Though he stand, beat till the old ear-drum break!—Ah, boy of my own bowels, Hyacinth,Wilt ever catch the knack, requite the painsOf poor papa, become proficient tooI' the how and why and when, the time to laugh,The time to weep, the time, again, to pray,And all the times prescribed by Holy Writ?Well, well, we fathers can but care, but castOur bread upon the waters!)In a word,These secondary charges go to ground,Since secondary, and superfluous,—motesQuite from the main point: we did all and some,Little and much, adjunct and principal,Causa honoris. Is there such a causeAs the sake of honor? By that sole test tryOur action, nor demand if more or less,Because of the action's mode, we merit blameOr maybe deserve praise! The Court decides.Is the end lawful? It allows the means:What we may do, we may with safety do,And what means "safety" we ourselves must judge.Put case a person wrongs me past dispute:If my legitimate vengeance be a blow,Mistrusting my bare arm can deal that blow,I claim co-operation of a stick;Doubtful if stick be tough, I crave a sword;Diffident of ability in fence,I fee a friend, a swordsman to assist:Take one—he may be coward, fool or knave:Why not take fifty?—and if these exceedI' the due degree of drubbing, whom accuseBut the first author of the aforesaid wrongWho put poor me to such a world of pains?Surgery would have just excised a wart;The patient made such pother, struggled soThat the sharp instrument sliced nose and all.Taunt us not that our friends performed for pay!Ourselves had toiled for simple honor's sake:But country clowns want dirt they comprehend,The piece of gold! Our reasons, which sufficeOurselves, be ours alone; our piece of goldBe, to the rustic, reason he approves!We must translate our motives like our speech,Into the lower phrase that suits the senseO' the limitedly apprehensive. LetEach level have its language! Heaven speaks firstTo the angel, then the angel tames the wordDown to the ear of Tobit: he, in turn,Diminishes the message to his dog,And finally that dog finds how the flea(Which else, importunate, might check his speed)Shall learn its hunger must have holiday,By application of his tongue or paw:So many varied sorts of language here,Each following each with pace to match the step,Haud passibus æquis!Talking of which flea,Reminds me I must put in special wordFor the poor humble following,—the four friends,Sicarii, our assassins caught and caged.Ourselves are safe in your approval now:Yet must we care for our companions, pleadThe cause o' the poor, the friends (of old-world faith)Who lie in tribulation for our sake.Pauperum Procuratoris my style:I stand forth as the poor man's advocate:And when we treat of what concerns the poor,Et cum agatur de pauperibus,In bondage,carceratis, for their sake,In eorum causis, natural piety,Pietas, ever ought to win the day,Triumphare debet, quia ipsi sunt,Because those very paupers constitute,Thesaurus Christi, all the wealth of Christ.Nevertheless I shall not hold you longWith multiplicity of proofs, nor burnCandle at noontide, clarify the clear.There beams a case refulgent from our books—Castrensis, Butringarius, everywhereI find it burn to dissipate the dark.'T is this: a husband had a friend, which friendSeemed to him over-friendly with his wifeIn thought and purpose,—I pretend no more.To justify suspicion or dispel,He bids his wife make show of giving heed,Semblance of sympathy—propose, in fine,A secret meeting in a private place.The friend, enticed thus, finds an ambuscade,To wit, the husband posted with a packOf other friends, who fall upon the firstAnd beat his love and life out both at once.These friends were brought to question for their help;Law ruled, "The husband being in the right,Who helped him in the right can scarce be wrong"—Opinio, an opinion every way,Multum tenenda cordi, heart should hold!When the inferiors follow as befitsThe lead o' the principal, they change their name,And,non dicuntur, are no longer calledHis mandatories,mandatorii,But helpmates,sed auxiliatores;sinceTo that degree does honor's sake lend aid,Adeo honoris causa est efficax,That not alone,non solum, does it pourItself out,se diffundat, on mere friendsWe bring to do our bidding of this sort,In mandatorios simplices, but sucksAlong with it in wide and generous whirl,Sed etiam assassinii qualitateQualificatos, people qualifiedBy the quality of assassination's self,Dare I make use of such neologism,Ut utar verbo.Haste we to conclude:Of the other points that favor, leave some fewFor Spreti; such as the delinquents' youth.One of them falls short, by some months, of ageFit to be managed by the gallows; twoMay plead exemption from our law's award,Being foreigners, subjects of the Granduke—I spare that bone to Spreti, and reserveMyself the juicier breast of argument—Flinging the breast-blade i' the face o' the Fisc,Who furnished me the tidbit: he must needsPlay off his privilege and rack the clowns,—And they, at instance of the rack, confessAll four unanimously made resolve,—The night o' the murder, in brief minute snatchedBehind the back of Guido as he fled,—That, since he had not kept his promise, paidThe money for the murder on the spot,So, reaching home again, might please ignoreThe pact or pay them in improper coin,—They one and all resolved, these hopeful friends,'T were best inaugurate the morrow's light,Nature recruited with her due repose,By killing Guido as he lay asleepPillowed on wallet which contained their fee.I thank the Fisc for knowledge of this fact:What fact could hope to make more manifestTheir rectitude, Guido's integrity?For who fails recognize the touching truthThat these poor rustics bore no envy, hate,Malice nor yet uncharitablenessAgainst the people they had put to death?In them, did such an act reward itself?All done was to deserve the simple pay,Obtain the bread clowns earn by sweat of brow,And missing which, they missed of every thing—Hence claimed pay, even at expense of lifeTo their own lord, so little warped (admire!)By prepossession, such the absoluteInstinct of equity in rustic souls!Whereas our Count, the cultivated mind,He, wholly rapt in his serene regardOf honor, he contemplating the sun,Who hardly marks if taper blink below,He, dreaming of no argument for deathExcept a vengeance worthy noble hearts,—Dared not so desecrate the deed, forsooth,Vulgarize vengeance, as defray its costBy money dug from out the dirty earth,Irritant mere, in Ovid's phrase, to ill.What though he lured base hinds by lucre's hope,—The only motive they could masticate,Milk for babes, not strong meat which men require?The deed done, those coarse hands were soiled enough,He spared them the pollution of the pay.So much for the allegement, thine, my Fisc,Quo nil absurdius, than which naught more mad,Excogitari potest, may be squeezedFrom out the cogitative brain of thee!And now, thou excellent the Governor!(Push to the peroration)cæterumEnixe supplico, I strive in prayer,Ut dominis meis, that unto the Court,Benigna fronte, with a gracious brow,Et oculis serenis, and mild eyes,Perpendere placeat, it may please them weigh,Quod dominus Guido, that our noble Count,Occidit, did the killing in dispute,Ut ejus honor tumulatus, thatThe honor of him buried fathom-deepIn infamy,in infamia, might arise,Resurgeret, as ghost breaks sepulchre!Occidit, for he killed,uxorem, wife,Quia illi fuit, since she was to him,Opprobrio, a disgrace and nothing more!Et genitores, killed her parents too,Qui, who,postposita verecundia,Having thrown off all sort of decency,Filiam repudiarunt, had renouncedTheir daughter,atque declarare nonErubuerunt, nor felt blush tinge cheek,Declaring,meretricis genitamEsse, she was the offspring of a drab,Ut ipse dehonestaretur, justThat so himself might lose his social rank!Cujus mentem, and which daughter's heart and soul,They,perverterunt, turned from the right course,Et ad illicitos amores nonDumtaxat pellexerunt, and to loveNot simply did alluringly incite,Sed vi obedientiæ, but by forceO' the duty,filialis, daughters owe,Coegerunt, forced and drove her to the deed:Occidit, I repeat he killed the clan,Ne scilicet amplius in dedecore,Lest peradventure longer life might trail,Viveret, link by link his turpitude,Invisus consanguineis, hateful soTo kith and kindred,a nobilibusNotatus, shunned by men of quality,Relictus ab amicis, left i' the lurchBy friends,ab omnibus derisus, turnedA common hack-block to try edge of jokes,Occidit, and he killed them here in Rome,In Urbe, the Eternal City, Sirs,Nempe quæ alias spectata est,The appropriate theatre which witnessed once,Matronam nobilem, Lucretia's self,Abluere pudicitiæ maculas,Wash off the spots of her pudicity,Sanguine proprio, with her own pure blood;Quæ vidit, and which city also saw,Patrem, Virginius,undequaque, quite,Impunem, with no sort of punishment,Nor,et non illaudatum, lacking praise,Sed polluentem parricidio,Imbrue his hands with butchery,filiæ,Of chaste Virginia, to avoid a rape,Ne raperetur ad stupra;so to heart,Tanti illi cordi fuit, did he take,Suspicio, the mere fancy men might have,Honoris amittendi, of fame's loss,Ut potius voluerit filiaOrbari, he preferred to lose his child,Quam illa incederet, rather than she walkThe ways an,inhonesta, child disgraced,Licet non sponte, though against her will.Occidit—killed them, I reiterate—In propria domo, in their own abode,Ut adultera et parentes, that each wretch,Conscii agnoscerent, might both see and say,Nullum locum, there 's no place,nullumque esseAsylum, nor yet refuge of escape,Impenetrabilem, shall serve as bar,Honori læso, to the wounded oneIn honor;neve ibi opprobriaContinuarentur, killed them on the spotMoreover, dreading lest within those wallsThe opprobrium peradventure be prolonged,Et domus quæ testis fuit turpium,And that the domicile which witnessed crime,Esset et pœnæ, might watch punishment:Occidit, killed, I round you in the ears,Quia alio modo, since by other mode,Non poterat ejus existimatio,There was no possibility his fame,Læsa, gashed griesly,tam enormiter,Ducere cicatrices, might be healed:Occidit ut exemplum præberetUxoribus, killed her, so to lesson wivesJura conjugii, that the marriage-oath,Esse servanda, must be kept henceforth:Occidit denique, killed her, in a word,Ut pro posse honestus viveret,That he, please God, might creditably live,Sin minus, but if fate willed otherwise,Proprii honoris, of his outraged fame,Offensi, by Mannaia, if you please,Commiseranda victima caderet,The pitiable victim he should fall!Done! I' the rough, i' the rough! But done! And, lo,Landed and stranded lies my very speech,My miracle, my monster of defence—Leviathan into the nose whereofI have put fish-hook, pierced his jaw with thorn,And given him to my maidens for a play!I' the rough: to-morrow I review my pieceTame here and there undue floridity.It's hard: you have to plead before these priestsAnd poke at them with Scripture, or you passFor heathen and, what's worse, for ignorantO' the quality o' the Court and what it likesBy way of illustration of the law.To-morrow stick in this, and throw out that,And, having first ecclesiasticized,Regularize the whole, next emphasize,Then latinize, and lastly Cicero-ize,Giving my Fisc his finish. There's my speech!And where's my fry, and family and friends?Where's that huge Hyacinth I mean to hugTill he cries out, "Jam satis!Let me breathe!"Now, what an evening have I earned to-day!Hail, ye true pleasures, all the rest are false!Oh, the old mother, oh, the fattish wife!Rogue Hyacinth shall put on paper toque,And wrap himself around with mamma's veilDone up to imitate papa's black robe,(I'm in the secret of the comedy,—Part of the program leaked out long ago!)And call himself the Advocate o' the Poor,Mimic Don father that defends the Count:And for reward shall have a small full glassOf manly red rosolio to himself,—Always provided that he conjugateBibo, I drink, correctly—nor be foundMake theperfectum, bipsi, as last year!How the ambitious do so harden heartAs lightly hold by these home-sanctitudes,To me is matter of bewilderment—Bewilderment! Because ambition's rangeIs nowise tethered by domestic tie:Am I refused an outlet from my homeTo the world's stage?—whereon a man should playThe man in public, vigilant for law,Zealous for truth, a credit to his kind,Nay,—since, employing talent so, I yieldThe Lord his own again with usury,—A satisfaction, yea, to God himself!Well, I have modelled me by Agur's wish,"Remove far from me vanity and lies,Feed me with food convenient for me!" WhatI' the world should a wise man require beyond?Can I but coax the good fat little wifeTo tell her fool of a father the mad prankHis scapegrace nephew played this time last yearAt Carnival! He could not choose, I think,But modify that inconsiderate giftO' the cup and cover (somewhere in the willUnder the pillow, some one seems to guess)—Correct that clause in favor of a boyThe trifle ought to grace, with name engraved,Would look so well, produced in future yearsTo pledge a memory, when poor papaLatin and law are long since laid at rest—Hyacintho dono dedit avus!Why,The wife should get a necklace for her pains,The very pearls that made Violante proud,And Pietro pawned for half their value once,—Redeemable by somebody,ne sitMarita quæ rotundioribusOnusta mammis ... baccis ambulet:Her bosom shall display the big round balls,No braver proudly borne by wedded wife!With which Horatian promise I conclude.Into the pigeon-hole with thee, my speech!Off and away, first work, then play, play, play!Bottini, burn thy books, thou blazing ass!Sing "Tra-la-la, for, lambkins, we must live!"
We do ask,—but, inspire replyTo the Court thou bidst me ask, as I have asked—Oh thou, who vigilantly dost attendTo even the few, the ineffectual wordsWhich rise from this our low and mundane sphereUp to thy region out of smoke and noise,Seeking corroboration from thy nodWho art all justice—which means mercy too,In a low noisy smoky world like oursWhere Adam's sin made peccable his seed!We venerate the father of the flock,Whose last faint sands of life, the frittered gold,Fall noiselessly, yet all too fast, o' the coneAnd tapering heap of those collected years:Never have these been hurried in their flow,Though justice fain would jog reluctant arm,In eagerness to take the forfeitureOf guilty life: much less shall mercy sueIn vain that thou let innocence survive,Precipitate no minim of the massO' the all-so precious moments of thy life,By pushing Guido into death and doom!(Our Cardinal engages to go readThe Pope my speech, and point its beauties out.They say, the Pope has one half-hour, in twelve,Of something like a moderate returnOf the intellectuals,—never much to lose!—If I adroitly plant this passage there,The Fisc will find himself forestalled, I think,Though he stand, beat till the old ear-drum break!—Ah, boy of my own bowels, Hyacinth,Wilt ever catch the knack, requite the painsOf poor papa, become proficient tooI' the how and why and when, the time to laugh,The time to weep, the time, again, to pray,And all the times prescribed by Holy Writ?Well, well, we fathers can but care, but castOur bread upon the waters!)In a word,These secondary charges go to ground,Since secondary, and superfluous,—motesQuite from the main point: we did all and some,Little and much, adjunct and principal,Causa honoris. Is there such a causeAs the sake of honor? By that sole test tryOur action, nor demand if more or less,Because of the action's mode, we merit blameOr maybe deserve praise! The Court decides.Is the end lawful? It allows the means:What we may do, we may with safety do,And what means "safety" we ourselves must judge.Put case a person wrongs me past dispute:If my legitimate vengeance be a blow,Mistrusting my bare arm can deal that blow,I claim co-operation of a stick;Doubtful if stick be tough, I crave a sword;Diffident of ability in fence,I fee a friend, a swordsman to assist:Take one—he may be coward, fool or knave:Why not take fifty?—and if these exceedI' the due degree of drubbing, whom accuseBut the first author of the aforesaid wrongWho put poor me to such a world of pains?Surgery would have just excised a wart;The patient made such pother, struggled soThat the sharp instrument sliced nose and all.Taunt us not that our friends performed for pay!Ourselves had toiled for simple honor's sake:But country clowns want dirt they comprehend,The piece of gold! Our reasons, which sufficeOurselves, be ours alone; our piece of goldBe, to the rustic, reason he approves!We must translate our motives like our speech,Into the lower phrase that suits the senseO' the limitedly apprehensive. LetEach level have its language! Heaven speaks firstTo the angel, then the angel tames the wordDown to the ear of Tobit: he, in turn,Diminishes the message to his dog,And finally that dog finds how the flea(Which else, importunate, might check his speed)Shall learn its hunger must have holiday,By application of his tongue or paw:So many varied sorts of language here,Each following each with pace to match the step,Haud passibus æquis!Talking of which flea,Reminds me I must put in special wordFor the poor humble following,—the four friends,Sicarii, our assassins caught and caged.Ourselves are safe in your approval now:Yet must we care for our companions, pleadThe cause o' the poor, the friends (of old-world faith)Who lie in tribulation for our sake.Pauperum Procuratoris my style:I stand forth as the poor man's advocate:And when we treat of what concerns the poor,Et cum agatur de pauperibus,In bondage,carceratis, for their sake,In eorum causis, natural piety,Pietas, ever ought to win the day,Triumphare debet, quia ipsi sunt,Because those very paupers constitute,Thesaurus Christi, all the wealth of Christ.Nevertheless I shall not hold you longWith multiplicity of proofs, nor burnCandle at noontide, clarify the clear.There beams a case refulgent from our books—Castrensis, Butringarius, everywhereI find it burn to dissipate the dark.'T is this: a husband had a friend, which friendSeemed to him over-friendly with his wifeIn thought and purpose,—I pretend no more.To justify suspicion or dispel,He bids his wife make show of giving heed,Semblance of sympathy—propose, in fine,A secret meeting in a private place.The friend, enticed thus, finds an ambuscade,To wit, the husband posted with a packOf other friends, who fall upon the firstAnd beat his love and life out both at once.These friends were brought to question for their help;Law ruled, "The husband being in the right,Who helped him in the right can scarce be wrong"—Opinio, an opinion every way,Multum tenenda cordi, heart should hold!When the inferiors follow as befitsThe lead o' the principal, they change their name,And,non dicuntur, are no longer calledHis mandatories,mandatorii,But helpmates,sed auxiliatores;sinceTo that degree does honor's sake lend aid,Adeo honoris causa est efficax,That not alone,non solum, does it pourItself out,se diffundat, on mere friendsWe bring to do our bidding of this sort,In mandatorios simplices, but sucksAlong with it in wide and generous whirl,Sed etiam assassinii qualitateQualificatos, people qualifiedBy the quality of assassination's self,Dare I make use of such neologism,Ut utar verbo.Haste we to conclude:Of the other points that favor, leave some fewFor Spreti; such as the delinquents' youth.One of them falls short, by some months, of ageFit to be managed by the gallows; twoMay plead exemption from our law's award,Being foreigners, subjects of the Granduke—I spare that bone to Spreti, and reserveMyself the juicier breast of argument—Flinging the breast-blade i' the face o' the Fisc,Who furnished me the tidbit: he must needsPlay off his privilege and rack the clowns,—And they, at instance of the rack, confessAll four unanimously made resolve,—The night o' the murder, in brief minute snatchedBehind the back of Guido as he fled,—That, since he had not kept his promise, paidThe money for the murder on the spot,So, reaching home again, might please ignoreThe pact or pay them in improper coin,—They one and all resolved, these hopeful friends,'T were best inaugurate the morrow's light,Nature recruited with her due repose,By killing Guido as he lay asleepPillowed on wallet which contained their fee.I thank the Fisc for knowledge of this fact:What fact could hope to make more manifestTheir rectitude, Guido's integrity?For who fails recognize the touching truthThat these poor rustics bore no envy, hate,Malice nor yet uncharitablenessAgainst the people they had put to death?In them, did such an act reward itself?All done was to deserve the simple pay,Obtain the bread clowns earn by sweat of brow,And missing which, they missed of every thing—Hence claimed pay, even at expense of lifeTo their own lord, so little warped (admire!)By prepossession, such the absoluteInstinct of equity in rustic souls!Whereas our Count, the cultivated mind,He, wholly rapt in his serene regardOf honor, he contemplating the sun,Who hardly marks if taper blink below,He, dreaming of no argument for deathExcept a vengeance worthy noble hearts,—Dared not so desecrate the deed, forsooth,Vulgarize vengeance, as defray its costBy money dug from out the dirty earth,Irritant mere, in Ovid's phrase, to ill.What though he lured base hinds by lucre's hope,—The only motive they could masticate,Milk for babes, not strong meat which men require?The deed done, those coarse hands were soiled enough,He spared them the pollution of the pay.So much for the allegement, thine, my Fisc,Quo nil absurdius, than which naught more mad,Excogitari potest, may be squeezedFrom out the cogitative brain of thee!And now, thou excellent the Governor!(Push to the peroration)cæterumEnixe supplico, I strive in prayer,Ut dominis meis, that unto the Court,Benigna fronte, with a gracious brow,Et oculis serenis, and mild eyes,Perpendere placeat, it may please them weigh,Quod dominus Guido, that our noble Count,Occidit, did the killing in dispute,Ut ejus honor tumulatus, thatThe honor of him buried fathom-deepIn infamy,in infamia, might arise,Resurgeret, as ghost breaks sepulchre!Occidit, for he killed,uxorem, wife,Quia illi fuit, since she was to him,Opprobrio, a disgrace and nothing more!Et genitores, killed her parents too,Qui, who,postposita verecundia,Having thrown off all sort of decency,Filiam repudiarunt, had renouncedTheir daughter,atque declarare nonErubuerunt, nor felt blush tinge cheek,Declaring,meretricis genitamEsse, she was the offspring of a drab,Ut ipse dehonestaretur, justThat so himself might lose his social rank!Cujus mentem, and which daughter's heart and soul,They,perverterunt, turned from the right course,Et ad illicitos amores nonDumtaxat pellexerunt, and to loveNot simply did alluringly incite,Sed vi obedientiæ, but by forceO' the duty,filialis, daughters owe,Coegerunt, forced and drove her to the deed:Occidit, I repeat he killed the clan,Ne scilicet amplius in dedecore,Lest peradventure longer life might trail,Viveret, link by link his turpitude,Invisus consanguineis, hateful soTo kith and kindred,a nobilibusNotatus, shunned by men of quality,Relictus ab amicis, left i' the lurchBy friends,ab omnibus derisus, turnedA common hack-block to try edge of jokes,Occidit, and he killed them here in Rome,In Urbe, the Eternal City, Sirs,Nempe quæ alias spectata est,The appropriate theatre which witnessed once,Matronam nobilem, Lucretia's self,Abluere pudicitiæ maculas,Wash off the spots of her pudicity,Sanguine proprio, with her own pure blood;Quæ vidit, and which city also saw,Patrem, Virginius,undequaque, quite,Impunem, with no sort of punishment,Nor,et non illaudatum, lacking praise,Sed polluentem parricidio,Imbrue his hands with butchery,filiæ,Of chaste Virginia, to avoid a rape,Ne raperetur ad stupra;so to heart,Tanti illi cordi fuit, did he take,Suspicio, the mere fancy men might have,Honoris amittendi, of fame's loss,Ut potius voluerit filiaOrbari, he preferred to lose his child,Quam illa incederet, rather than she walkThe ways an,inhonesta, child disgraced,Licet non sponte, though against her will.Occidit—killed them, I reiterate—In propria domo, in their own abode,Ut adultera et parentes, that each wretch,Conscii agnoscerent, might both see and say,Nullum locum, there 's no place,nullumque esseAsylum, nor yet refuge of escape,Impenetrabilem, shall serve as bar,Honori læso, to the wounded oneIn honor;neve ibi opprobriaContinuarentur, killed them on the spotMoreover, dreading lest within those wallsThe opprobrium peradventure be prolonged,Et domus quæ testis fuit turpium,And that the domicile which witnessed crime,Esset et pœnæ, might watch punishment:Occidit, killed, I round you in the ears,Quia alio modo, since by other mode,Non poterat ejus existimatio,There was no possibility his fame,Læsa, gashed griesly,tam enormiter,Ducere cicatrices, might be healed:Occidit ut exemplum præberetUxoribus, killed her, so to lesson wivesJura conjugii, that the marriage-oath,Esse servanda, must be kept henceforth:Occidit denique, killed her, in a word,Ut pro posse honestus viveret,That he, please God, might creditably live,Sin minus, but if fate willed otherwise,Proprii honoris, of his outraged fame,Offensi, by Mannaia, if you please,Commiseranda victima caderet,The pitiable victim he should fall!Done! I' the rough, i' the rough! But done! And, lo,Landed and stranded lies my very speech,My miracle, my monster of defence—Leviathan into the nose whereofI have put fish-hook, pierced his jaw with thorn,And given him to my maidens for a play!I' the rough: to-morrow I review my pieceTame here and there undue floridity.It's hard: you have to plead before these priestsAnd poke at them with Scripture, or you passFor heathen and, what's worse, for ignorantO' the quality o' the Court and what it likesBy way of illustration of the law.To-morrow stick in this, and throw out that,And, having first ecclesiasticized,Regularize the whole, next emphasize,Then latinize, and lastly Cicero-ize,Giving my Fisc his finish. There's my speech!And where's my fry, and family and friends?Where's that huge Hyacinth I mean to hugTill he cries out, "Jam satis!Let me breathe!"Now, what an evening have I earned to-day!Hail, ye true pleasures, all the rest are false!Oh, the old mother, oh, the fattish wife!Rogue Hyacinth shall put on paper toque,And wrap himself around with mamma's veilDone up to imitate papa's black robe,(I'm in the secret of the comedy,—Part of the program leaked out long ago!)And call himself the Advocate o' the Poor,Mimic Don father that defends the Count:And for reward shall have a small full glassOf manly red rosolio to himself,—Always provided that he conjugateBibo, I drink, correctly—nor be foundMake theperfectum, bipsi, as last year!How the ambitious do so harden heartAs lightly hold by these home-sanctitudes,To me is matter of bewilderment—Bewilderment! Because ambition's rangeIs nowise tethered by domestic tie:Am I refused an outlet from my homeTo the world's stage?—whereon a man should playThe man in public, vigilant for law,Zealous for truth, a credit to his kind,Nay,—since, employing talent so, I yieldThe Lord his own again with usury,—A satisfaction, yea, to God himself!Well, I have modelled me by Agur's wish,"Remove far from me vanity and lies,Feed me with food convenient for me!" WhatI' the world should a wise man require beyond?Can I but coax the good fat little wifeTo tell her fool of a father the mad prankHis scapegrace nephew played this time last yearAt Carnival! He could not choose, I think,But modify that inconsiderate giftO' the cup and cover (somewhere in the willUnder the pillow, some one seems to guess)—Correct that clause in favor of a boyThe trifle ought to grace, with name engraved,Would look so well, produced in future yearsTo pledge a memory, when poor papaLatin and law are long since laid at rest—Hyacintho dono dedit avus!Why,The wife should get a necklace for her pains,The very pearls that made Violante proud,And Pietro pawned for half their value once,—Redeemable by somebody,ne sitMarita quæ rotundioribusOnusta mammis ... baccis ambulet:Her bosom shall display the big round balls,No braver proudly borne by wedded wife!With which Horatian promise I conclude.Into the pigeon-hole with thee, my speech!Off and away, first work, then play, play, play!Bottini, burn thy books, thou blazing ass!Sing "Tra-la-la, for, lambkins, we must live!"
We do ask,—but, inspire replyTo the Court thou bidst me ask, as I have asked—Oh thou, who vigilantly dost attendTo even the few, the ineffectual wordsWhich rise from this our low and mundane sphereUp to thy region out of smoke and noise,Seeking corroboration from thy nodWho art all justice—which means mercy too,In a low noisy smoky world like oursWhere Adam's sin made peccable his seed!We venerate the father of the flock,Whose last faint sands of life, the frittered gold,Fall noiselessly, yet all too fast, o' the coneAnd tapering heap of those collected years:Never have these been hurried in their flow,Though justice fain would jog reluctant arm,In eagerness to take the forfeitureOf guilty life: much less shall mercy sueIn vain that thou let innocence survive,Precipitate no minim of the massO' the all-so precious moments of thy life,By pushing Guido into death and doom!
We do ask,—but, inspire reply
To the Court thou bidst me ask, as I have asked—
Oh thou, who vigilantly dost attend
To even the few, the ineffectual words
Which rise from this our low and mundane sphere
Up to thy region out of smoke and noise,
Seeking corroboration from thy nod
Who art all justice—which means mercy too,
In a low noisy smoky world like ours
Where Adam's sin made peccable his seed!
We venerate the father of the flock,
Whose last faint sands of life, the frittered gold,
Fall noiselessly, yet all too fast, o' the cone
And tapering heap of those collected years:
Never have these been hurried in their flow,
Though justice fain would jog reluctant arm,
In eagerness to take the forfeiture
Of guilty life: much less shall mercy sue
In vain that thou let innocence survive,
Precipitate no minim of the mass
O' the all-so precious moments of thy life,
By pushing Guido into death and doom!
(Our Cardinal engages to go readThe Pope my speech, and point its beauties out.They say, the Pope has one half-hour, in twelve,Of something like a moderate returnOf the intellectuals,—never much to lose!—If I adroitly plant this passage there,The Fisc will find himself forestalled, I think,Though he stand, beat till the old ear-drum break!—Ah, boy of my own bowels, Hyacinth,Wilt ever catch the knack, requite the painsOf poor papa, become proficient tooI' the how and why and when, the time to laugh,The time to weep, the time, again, to pray,And all the times prescribed by Holy Writ?Well, well, we fathers can but care, but castOur bread upon the waters!)In a word,These secondary charges go to ground,Since secondary, and superfluous,—motesQuite from the main point: we did all and some,Little and much, adjunct and principal,Causa honoris. Is there such a causeAs the sake of honor? By that sole test tryOur action, nor demand if more or less,Because of the action's mode, we merit blameOr maybe deserve praise! The Court decides.Is the end lawful? It allows the means:What we may do, we may with safety do,And what means "safety" we ourselves must judge.Put case a person wrongs me past dispute:If my legitimate vengeance be a blow,Mistrusting my bare arm can deal that blow,I claim co-operation of a stick;Doubtful if stick be tough, I crave a sword;Diffident of ability in fence,I fee a friend, a swordsman to assist:Take one—he may be coward, fool or knave:Why not take fifty?—and if these exceedI' the due degree of drubbing, whom accuseBut the first author of the aforesaid wrongWho put poor me to such a world of pains?Surgery would have just excised a wart;The patient made such pother, struggled soThat the sharp instrument sliced nose and all.Taunt us not that our friends performed for pay!Ourselves had toiled for simple honor's sake:But country clowns want dirt they comprehend,The piece of gold! Our reasons, which sufficeOurselves, be ours alone; our piece of goldBe, to the rustic, reason he approves!We must translate our motives like our speech,Into the lower phrase that suits the senseO' the limitedly apprehensive. LetEach level have its language! Heaven speaks firstTo the angel, then the angel tames the wordDown to the ear of Tobit: he, in turn,Diminishes the message to his dog,And finally that dog finds how the flea(Which else, importunate, might check his speed)Shall learn its hunger must have holiday,By application of his tongue or paw:So many varied sorts of language here,Each following each with pace to match the step,Haud passibus æquis!
(Our Cardinal engages to go read
The Pope my speech, and point its beauties out.
They say, the Pope has one half-hour, in twelve,
Of something like a moderate return
Of the intellectuals,—never much to lose!—
If I adroitly plant this passage there,
The Fisc will find himself forestalled, I think,
Though he stand, beat till the old ear-drum break!
—Ah, boy of my own bowels, Hyacinth,
Wilt ever catch the knack, requite the pains
Of poor papa, become proficient too
I' the how and why and when, the time to laugh,
The time to weep, the time, again, to pray,
And all the times prescribed by Holy Writ?
Well, well, we fathers can but care, but cast
Our bread upon the waters!)
In a word,
These secondary charges go to ground,
Since secondary, and superfluous,—motes
Quite from the main point: we did all and some,
Little and much, adjunct and principal,
Causa honoris. Is there such a cause
As the sake of honor? By that sole test try
Our action, nor demand if more or less,
Because of the action's mode, we merit blame
Or maybe deserve praise! The Court decides.
Is the end lawful? It allows the means:
What we may do, we may with safety do,
And what means "safety" we ourselves must judge.
Put case a person wrongs me past dispute:
If my legitimate vengeance be a blow,
Mistrusting my bare arm can deal that blow,
I claim co-operation of a stick;
Doubtful if stick be tough, I crave a sword;
Diffident of ability in fence,
I fee a friend, a swordsman to assist:
Take one—he may be coward, fool or knave:
Why not take fifty?—and if these exceed
I' the due degree of drubbing, whom accuse
But the first author of the aforesaid wrong
Who put poor me to such a world of pains?
Surgery would have just excised a wart;
The patient made such pother, struggled so
That the sharp instrument sliced nose and all.
Taunt us not that our friends performed for pay!
Ourselves had toiled for simple honor's sake:
But country clowns want dirt they comprehend,
The piece of gold! Our reasons, which suffice
Ourselves, be ours alone; our piece of gold
Be, to the rustic, reason he approves!
We must translate our motives like our speech,
Into the lower phrase that suits the sense
O' the limitedly apprehensive. Let
Each level have its language! Heaven speaks first
To the angel, then the angel tames the word
Down to the ear of Tobit: he, in turn,
Diminishes the message to his dog,
And finally that dog finds how the flea
(Which else, importunate, might check his speed)
Shall learn its hunger must have holiday,
By application of his tongue or paw:
So many varied sorts of language here,
Each following each with pace to match the step,
Haud passibus æquis!
Talking of which flea,Reminds me I must put in special wordFor the poor humble following,—the four friends,Sicarii, our assassins caught and caged.Ourselves are safe in your approval now:Yet must we care for our companions, pleadThe cause o' the poor, the friends (of old-world faith)Who lie in tribulation for our sake.Pauperum Procuratoris my style:I stand forth as the poor man's advocate:And when we treat of what concerns the poor,Et cum agatur de pauperibus,In bondage,carceratis, for their sake,In eorum causis, natural piety,Pietas, ever ought to win the day,Triumphare debet, quia ipsi sunt,Because those very paupers constitute,Thesaurus Christi, all the wealth of Christ.Nevertheless I shall not hold you longWith multiplicity of proofs, nor burnCandle at noontide, clarify the clear.There beams a case refulgent from our books—Castrensis, Butringarius, everywhereI find it burn to dissipate the dark.'T is this: a husband had a friend, which friendSeemed to him over-friendly with his wifeIn thought and purpose,—I pretend no more.To justify suspicion or dispel,He bids his wife make show of giving heed,Semblance of sympathy—propose, in fine,A secret meeting in a private place.The friend, enticed thus, finds an ambuscade,To wit, the husband posted with a packOf other friends, who fall upon the firstAnd beat his love and life out both at once.These friends were brought to question for their help;Law ruled, "The husband being in the right,Who helped him in the right can scarce be wrong"—Opinio, an opinion every way,Multum tenenda cordi, heart should hold!When the inferiors follow as befitsThe lead o' the principal, they change their name,And,non dicuntur, are no longer calledHis mandatories,mandatorii,But helpmates,sed auxiliatores;sinceTo that degree does honor's sake lend aid,Adeo honoris causa est efficax,That not alone,non solum, does it pourItself out,se diffundat, on mere friendsWe bring to do our bidding of this sort,In mandatorios simplices, but sucksAlong with it in wide and generous whirl,Sed etiam assassinii qualitateQualificatos, people qualifiedBy the quality of assassination's self,Dare I make use of such neologism,Ut utar verbo.
Talking of which flea,
Reminds me I must put in special word
For the poor humble following,—the four friends,
Sicarii, our assassins caught and caged.
Ourselves are safe in your approval now:
Yet must we care for our companions, plead
The cause o' the poor, the friends (of old-world faith)
Who lie in tribulation for our sake.
Pauperum Procuratoris my style:
I stand forth as the poor man's advocate:
And when we treat of what concerns the poor,
Et cum agatur de pauperibus,
In bondage,carceratis, for their sake,
In eorum causis, natural piety,
Pietas, ever ought to win the day,
Triumphare debet, quia ipsi sunt,
Because those very paupers constitute,
Thesaurus Christi, all the wealth of Christ.
Nevertheless I shall not hold you long
With multiplicity of proofs, nor burn
Candle at noontide, clarify the clear.
There beams a case refulgent from our books—
Castrensis, Butringarius, everywhere
I find it burn to dissipate the dark.
'T is this: a husband had a friend, which friend
Seemed to him over-friendly with his wife
In thought and purpose,—I pretend no more.
To justify suspicion or dispel,
He bids his wife make show of giving heed,
Semblance of sympathy—propose, in fine,
A secret meeting in a private place.
The friend, enticed thus, finds an ambuscade,
To wit, the husband posted with a pack
Of other friends, who fall upon the first
And beat his love and life out both at once.
These friends were brought to question for their help;
Law ruled, "The husband being in the right,
Who helped him in the right can scarce be wrong"—
Opinio, an opinion every way,
Multum tenenda cordi, heart should hold!
When the inferiors follow as befits
The lead o' the principal, they change their name,
And,non dicuntur, are no longer called
His mandatories,mandatorii,
But helpmates,sed auxiliatores;since
To that degree does honor's sake lend aid,
Adeo honoris causa est efficax,
That not alone,non solum, does it pour
Itself out,se diffundat, on mere friends
We bring to do our bidding of this sort,
In mandatorios simplices, but sucks
Along with it in wide and generous whirl,
Sed etiam assassinii qualitate
Qualificatos, people qualified
By the quality of assassination's self,
Dare I make use of such neologism,
Ut utar verbo.
Haste we to conclude:Of the other points that favor, leave some fewFor Spreti; such as the delinquents' youth.One of them falls short, by some months, of ageFit to be managed by the gallows; twoMay plead exemption from our law's award,Being foreigners, subjects of the Granduke—I spare that bone to Spreti, and reserveMyself the juicier breast of argument—Flinging the breast-blade i' the face o' the Fisc,Who furnished me the tidbit: he must needsPlay off his privilege and rack the clowns,—And they, at instance of the rack, confessAll four unanimously made resolve,—The night o' the murder, in brief minute snatchedBehind the back of Guido as he fled,—That, since he had not kept his promise, paidThe money for the murder on the spot,So, reaching home again, might please ignoreThe pact or pay them in improper coin,—They one and all resolved, these hopeful friends,'T were best inaugurate the morrow's light,Nature recruited with her due repose,By killing Guido as he lay asleepPillowed on wallet which contained their fee.
Haste we to conclude:
Of the other points that favor, leave some few
For Spreti; such as the delinquents' youth.
One of them falls short, by some months, of age
Fit to be managed by the gallows; two
May plead exemption from our law's award,
Being foreigners, subjects of the Granduke—
I spare that bone to Spreti, and reserve
Myself the juicier breast of argument—
Flinging the breast-blade i' the face o' the Fisc,
Who furnished me the tidbit: he must needs
Play off his privilege and rack the clowns,—
And they, at instance of the rack, confess
All four unanimously made resolve,—
The night o' the murder, in brief minute snatched
Behind the back of Guido as he fled,—
That, since he had not kept his promise, paid
The money for the murder on the spot,
So, reaching home again, might please ignore
The pact or pay them in improper coin,—
They one and all resolved, these hopeful friends,
'T were best inaugurate the morrow's light,
Nature recruited with her due repose,
By killing Guido as he lay asleep
Pillowed on wallet which contained their fee.
I thank the Fisc for knowledge of this fact:What fact could hope to make more manifestTheir rectitude, Guido's integrity?For who fails recognize the touching truthThat these poor rustics bore no envy, hate,Malice nor yet uncharitablenessAgainst the people they had put to death?In them, did such an act reward itself?All done was to deserve the simple pay,Obtain the bread clowns earn by sweat of brow,And missing which, they missed of every thing—Hence claimed pay, even at expense of lifeTo their own lord, so little warped (admire!)By prepossession, such the absoluteInstinct of equity in rustic souls!Whereas our Count, the cultivated mind,He, wholly rapt in his serene regardOf honor, he contemplating the sun,Who hardly marks if taper blink below,He, dreaming of no argument for deathExcept a vengeance worthy noble hearts,—Dared not so desecrate the deed, forsooth,Vulgarize vengeance, as defray its costBy money dug from out the dirty earth,Irritant mere, in Ovid's phrase, to ill.What though he lured base hinds by lucre's hope,—The only motive they could masticate,Milk for babes, not strong meat which men require?The deed done, those coarse hands were soiled enough,He spared them the pollution of the pay.So much for the allegement, thine, my Fisc,Quo nil absurdius, than which naught more mad,Excogitari potest, may be squeezedFrom out the cogitative brain of thee!
I thank the Fisc for knowledge of this fact:
What fact could hope to make more manifest
Their rectitude, Guido's integrity?
For who fails recognize the touching truth
That these poor rustics bore no envy, hate,
Malice nor yet uncharitableness
Against the people they had put to death?
In them, did such an act reward itself?
All done was to deserve the simple pay,
Obtain the bread clowns earn by sweat of brow,
And missing which, they missed of every thing—
Hence claimed pay, even at expense of life
To their own lord, so little warped (admire!)
By prepossession, such the absolute
Instinct of equity in rustic souls!
Whereas our Count, the cultivated mind,
He, wholly rapt in his serene regard
Of honor, he contemplating the sun,
Who hardly marks if taper blink below,
He, dreaming of no argument for death
Except a vengeance worthy noble hearts,—
Dared not so desecrate the deed, forsooth,
Vulgarize vengeance, as defray its cost
By money dug from out the dirty earth,
Irritant mere, in Ovid's phrase, to ill.
What though he lured base hinds by lucre's hope,—
The only motive they could masticate,
Milk for babes, not strong meat which men require?
The deed done, those coarse hands were soiled enough,
He spared them the pollution of the pay.
So much for the allegement, thine, my Fisc,
Quo nil absurdius, than which naught more mad,
Excogitari potest, may be squeezed
From out the cogitative brain of thee!
And now, thou excellent the Governor!(Push to the peroration)cæterumEnixe supplico, I strive in prayer,Ut dominis meis, that unto the Court,Benigna fronte, with a gracious brow,Et oculis serenis, and mild eyes,Perpendere placeat, it may please them weigh,Quod dominus Guido, that our noble Count,Occidit, did the killing in dispute,Ut ejus honor tumulatus, thatThe honor of him buried fathom-deepIn infamy,in infamia, might arise,Resurgeret, as ghost breaks sepulchre!Occidit, for he killed,uxorem, wife,Quia illi fuit, since she was to him,Opprobrio, a disgrace and nothing more!Et genitores, killed her parents too,Qui, who,postposita verecundia,Having thrown off all sort of decency,Filiam repudiarunt, had renouncedTheir daughter,atque declarare nonErubuerunt, nor felt blush tinge cheek,Declaring,meretricis genitamEsse, she was the offspring of a drab,Ut ipse dehonestaretur, justThat so himself might lose his social rank!Cujus mentem, and which daughter's heart and soul,They,perverterunt, turned from the right course,Et ad illicitos amores nonDumtaxat pellexerunt, and to loveNot simply did alluringly incite,Sed vi obedientiæ, but by forceO' the duty,filialis, daughters owe,Coegerunt, forced and drove her to the deed:Occidit, I repeat he killed the clan,Ne scilicet amplius in dedecore,Lest peradventure longer life might trail,Viveret, link by link his turpitude,Invisus consanguineis, hateful soTo kith and kindred,a nobilibusNotatus, shunned by men of quality,Relictus ab amicis, left i' the lurchBy friends,ab omnibus derisus, turnedA common hack-block to try edge of jokes,Occidit, and he killed them here in Rome,In Urbe, the Eternal City, Sirs,Nempe quæ alias spectata est,The appropriate theatre which witnessed once,Matronam nobilem, Lucretia's self,Abluere pudicitiæ maculas,Wash off the spots of her pudicity,Sanguine proprio, with her own pure blood;Quæ vidit, and which city also saw,Patrem, Virginius,undequaque, quite,Impunem, with no sort of punishment,Nor,et non illaudatum, lacking praise,Sed polluentem parricidio,Imbrue his hands with butchery,filiæ,Of chaste Virginia, to avoid a rape,Ne raperetur ad stupra;so to heart,Tanti illi cordi fuit, did he take,Suspicio, the mere fancy men might have,Honoris amittendi, of fame's loss,Ut potius voluerit filiaOrbari, he preferred to lose his child,Quam illa incederet, rather than she walkThe ways an,inhonesta, child disgraced,Licet non sponte, though against her will.Occidit—killed them, I reiterate—In propria domo, in their own abode,Ut adultera et parentes, that each wretch,Conscii agnoscerent, might both see and say,Nullum locum, there 's no place,nullumque esseAsylum, nor yet refuge of escape,Impenetrabilem, shall serve as bar,Honori læso, to the wounded oneIn honor;neve ibi opprobriaContinuarentur, killed them on the spotMoreover, dreading lest within those wallsThe opprobrium peradventure be prolonged,Et domus quæ testis fuit turpium,And that the domicile which witnessed crime,Esset et pœnæ, might watch punishment:Occidit, killed, I round you in the ears,Quia alio modo, since by other mode,Non poterat ejus existimatio,There was no possibility his fame,Læsa, gashed griesly,tam enormiter,Ducere cicatrices, might be healed:Occidit ut exemplum præberetUxoribus, killed her, so to lesson wivesJura conjugii, that the marriage-oath,Esse servanda, must be kept henceforth:Occidit denique, killed her, in a word,Ut pro posse honestus viveret,That he, please God, might creditably live,Sin minus, but if fate willed otherwise,Proprii honoris, of his outraged fame,Offensi, by Mannaia, if you please,Commiseranda victima caderet,The pitiable victim he should fall!
And now, thou excellent the Governor!
(Push to the peroration)cæterum
Enixe supplico, I strive in prayer,
Ut dominis meis, that unto the Court,
Benigna fronte, with a gracious brow,
Et oculis serenis, and mild eyes,
Perpendere placeat, it may please them weigh,
Quod dominus Guido, that our noble Count,
Occidit, did the killing in dispute,
Ut ejus honor tumulatus, that
The honor of him buried fathom-deep
In infamy,in infamia, might arise,
Resurgeret, as ghost breaks sepulchre!
Occidit, for he killed,uxorem, wife,
Quia illi fuit, since she was to him,
Opprobrio, a disgrace and nothing more!
Et genitores, killed her parents too,
Qui, who,postposita verecundia,
Having thrown off all sort of decency,
Filiam repudiarunt, had renounced
Their daughter,atque declarare non
Erubuerunt, nor felt blush tinge cheek,
Declaring,meretricis genitam
Esse, she was the offspring of a drab,
Ut ipse dehonestaretur, just
That so himself might lose his social rank!
Cujus mentem, and which daughter's heart and soul,
They,perverterunt, turned from the right course,
Et ad illicitos amores non
Dumtaxat pellexerunt, and to love
Not simply did alluringly incite,
Sed vi obedientiæ, but by force
O' the duty,filialis, daughters owe,
Coegerunt, forced and drove her to the deed:
Occidit, I repeat he killed the clan,
Ne scilicet amplius in dedecore,
Lest peradventure longer life might trail,
Viveret, link by link his turpitude,
Invisus consanguineis, hateful so
To kith and kindred,a nobilibus
Notatus, shunned by men of quality,
Relictus ab amicis, left i' the lurch
By friends,ab omnibus derisus, turned
A common hack-block to try edge of jokes,
Occidit, and he killed them here in Rome,
In Urbe, the Eternal City, Sirs,
Nempe quæ alias spectata est,
The appropriate theatre which witnessed once,
Matronam nobilem, Lucretia's self,
Abluere pudicitiæ maculas,
Wash off the spots of her pudicity,
Sanguine proprio, with her own pure blood;
Quæ vidit, and which city also saw,
Patrem, Virginius,undequaque, quite,
Impunem, with no sort of punishment,
Nor,et non illaudatum, lacking praise,
Sed polluentem parricidio,
Imbrue his hands with butchery,filiæ,
Of chaste Virginia, to avoid a rape,
Ne raperetur ad stupra;so to heart,
Tanti illi cordi fuit, did he take,
Suspicio, the mere fancy men might have,
Honoris amittendi, of fame's loss,
Ut potius voluerit filia
Orbari, he preferred to lose his child,
Quam illa incederet, rather than she walk
The ways an,inhonesta, child disgraced,
Licet non sponte, though against her will.
Occidit—killed them, I reiterate—
In propria domo, in their own abode,
Ut adultera et parentes, that each wretch,
Conscii agnoscerent, might both see and say,
Nullum locum, there 's no place,nullumque esse
Asylum, nor yet refuge of escape,
Impenetrabilem, shall serve as bar,
Honori læso, to the wounded one
In honor;neve ibi opprobria
Continuarentur, killed them on the spot
Moreover, dreading lest within those walls
The opprobrium peradventure be prolonged,
Et domus quæ testis fuit turpium,
And that the domicile which witnessed crime,
Esset et pœnæ, might watch punishment:
Occidit, killed, I round you in the ears,
Quia alio modo, since by other mode,
Non poterat ejus existimatio,
There was no possibility his fame,
Læsa, gashed griesly,tam enormiter,
Ducere cicatrices, might be healed:
Occidit ut exemplum præberet
Uxoribus, killed her, so to lesson wives
Jura conjugii, that the marriage-oath,
Esse servanda, must be kept henceforth:
Occidit denique, killed her, in a word,
Ut pro posse honestus viveret,
That he, please God, might creditably live,
Sin minus, but if fate willed otherwise,
Proprii honoris, of his outraged fame,
Offensi, by Mannaia, if you please,
Commiseranda victima caderet,
The pitiable victim he should fall!
Done! I' the rough, i' the rough! But done! And, lo,Landed and stranded lies my very speech,My miracle, my monster of defence—Leviathan into the nose whereofI have put fish-hook, pierced his jaw with thorn,And given him to my maidens for a play!I' the rough: to-morrow I review my pieceTame here and there undue floridity.It's hard: you have to plead before these priestsAnd poke at them with Scripture, or you passFor heathen and, what's worse, for ignorantO' the quality o' the Court and what it likesBy way of illustration of the law.To-morrow stick in this, and throw out that,And, having first ecclesiasticized,Regularize the whole, next emphasize,Then latinize, and lastly Cicero-ize,Giving my Fisc his finish. There's my speech!And where's my fry, and family and friends?Where's that huge Hyacinth I mean to hugTill he cries out, "Jam satis!Let me breathe!"Now, what an evening have I earned to-day!Hail, ye true pleasures, all the rest are false!Oh, the old mother, oh, the fattish wife!Rogue Hyacinth shall put on paper toque,And wrap himself around with mamma's veilDone up to imitate papa's black robe,(I'm in the secret of the comedy,—Part of the program leaked out long ago!)And call himself the Advocate o' the Poor,Mimic Don father that defends the Count:And for reward shall have a small full glassOf manly red rosolio to himself,—Always provided that he conjugateBibo, I drink, correctly—nor be foundMake theperfectum, bipsi, as last year!How the ambitious do so harden heartAs lightly hold by these home-sanctitudes,To me is matter of bewilderment—Bewilderment! Because ambition's rangeIs nowise tethered by domestic tie:Am I refused an outlet from my homeTo the world's stage?—whereon a man should playThe man in public, vigilant for law,Zealous for truth, a credit to his kind,Nay,—since, employing talent so, I yieldThe Lord his own again with usury,—A satisfaction, yea, to God himself!Well, I have modelled me by Agur's wish,"Remove far from me vanity and lies,Feed me with food convenient for me!" WhatI' the world should a wise man require beyond?Can I but coax the good fat little wifeTo tell her fool of a father the mad prankHis scapegrace nephew played this time last yearAt Carnival! He could not choose, I think,But modify that inconsiderate giftO' the cup and cover (somewhere in the willUnder the pillow, some one seems to guess)—Correct that clause in favor of a boyThe trifle ought to grace, with name engraved,Would look so well, produced in future yearsTo pledge a memory, when poor papaLatin and law are long since laid at rest—Hyacintho dono dedit avus!Why,The wife should get a necklace for her pains,The very pearls that made Violante proud,And Pietro pawned for half their value once,—Redeemable by somebody,ne sitMarita quæ rotundioribusOnusta mammis ... baccis ambulet:Her bosom shall display the big round balls,No braver proudly borne by wedded wife!With which Horatian promise I conclude.
Done! I' the rough, i' the rough! But done! And, lo,
Landed and stranded lies my very speech,
My miracle, my monster of defence—
Leviathan into the nose whereof
I have put fish-hook, pierced his jaw with thorn,
And given him to my maidens for a play!
I' the rough: to-morrow I review my piece
Tame here and there undue floridity.
It's hard: you have to plead before these priests
And poke at them with Scripture, or you pass
For heathen and, what's worse, for ignorant
O' the quality o' the Court and what it likes
By way of illustration of the law.
To-morrow stick in this, and throw out that,
And, having first ecclesiasticized,
Regularize the whole, next emphasize,
Then latinize, and lastly Cicero-ize,
Giving my Fisc his finish. There's my speech!
And where's my fry, and family and friends?
Where's that huge Hyacinth I mean to hug
Till he cries out, "Jam satis!Let me breathe!"
Now, what an evening have I earned to-day!
Hail, ye true pleasures, all the rest are false!
Oh, the old mother, oh, the fattish wife!
Rogue Hyacinth shall put on paper toque,
And wrap himself around with mamma's veil
Done up to imitate papa's black robe,
(I'm in the secret of the comedy,—
Part of the program leaked out long ago!)
And call himself the Advocate o' the Poor,
Mimic Don father that defends the Count:
And for reward shall have a small full glass
Of manly red rosolio to himself,
—Always provided that he conjugate
Bibo, I drink, correctly—nor be found
Make theperfectum, bipsi, as last year!
How the ambitious do so harden heart
As lightly hold by these home-sanctitudes,
To me is matter of bewilderment—
Bewilderment! Because ambition's range
Is nowise tethered by domestic tie:
Am I refused an outlet from my home
To the world's stage?—whereon a man should play
The man in public, vigilant for law,
Zealous for truth, a credit to his kind,
Nay,—since, employing talent so, I yield
The Lord his own again with usury,—
A satisfaction, yea, to God himself!
Well, I have modelled me by Agur's wish,
"Remove far from me vanity and lies,
Feed me with food convenient for me!" What
I' the world should a wise man require beyond?
Can I but coax the good fat little wife
To tell her fool of a father the mad prank
His scapegrace nephew played this time last year
At Carnival! He could not choose, I think,
But modify that inconsiderate gift
O' the cup and cover (somewhere in the will
Under the pillow, some one seems to guess)
—Correct that clause in favor of a boy
The trifle ought to grace, with name engraved,
Would look so well, produced in future years
To pledge a memory, when poor papa
Latin and law are long since laid at rest—
Hyacintho dono dedit avus!Why,
The wife should get a necklace for her pains,
The very pearls that made Violante proud,
And Pietro pawned for half their value once,—
Redeemable by somebody,ne sit
Marita quæ rotundioribus
Onusta mammis ... baccis ambulet:
Her bosom shall display the big round balls,
No braver proudly borne by wedded wife!
With which Horatian promise I conclude.
Into the pigeon-hole with thee, my speech!Off and away, first work, then play, play, play!Bottini, burn thy books, thou blazing ass!Sing "Tra-la-la, for, lambkins, we must live!"
Into the pigeon-hole with thee, my speech!
Off and away, first work, then play, play, play!
Bottini, burn thy books, thou blazing ass!
Sing "Tra-la-la, for, lambkins, we must live!"