Indeed. I hardly know myself. Stay! Was it not On yesterday we were speaking of the Earl? Of the Earl Politian? Yes! it was yesterday. Alessandra, you and I, you must remember! We were walking in the garden.
Duke
Perfectly. I do remember it—what of it—what then?
Castiglione
O nothing—nothing at all.
Duke
Nothing at all! It is most singular that you should laugh At nothing at all!
Castiglione
Most singular—singular!
Duke
Look yon, Castiglione, be so kind As tell me, sir, at once what 'tis you mean. What are you talking of?
Castiglione
Was it not so? We differed in opinion touching him.
Duke
Him!—Whom?
Castiglione
Why, sir, the Earl Politian.
Duke
The Earl of Leicester! Yes!—is it he you mean? We differed, indeed. If I now recollect The words you used were that the Earl you knew Was neither learned nor mirthful.
Castiglione
Ha! ha!—now did I?
Duke
That did you, sir, and well I knew at the time You were wrong, it being not the character Of the Earl—whom all the world allows to be A most hilarious man. Be not, my son, Too positive again.
Castiglione
'Tis singular! Most singular! I could not think it possible So little time could so much alter one! To say the truth about an hour ago, As I was walking with the Count San Ozzo, All arm in arm, we met this very man The Earl—he, with his friend Baldazzar, Having just arrived in Rome. Ha! ha! he is altered! Such an account he gave me of his journey! 'Twould have made you die with laughter—such tales he told Of his caprices and his merry freaks Along the road—such oddity—such humor— Such wit—such whim—such flashes of wild merriment Set off too in such full relief by the grave Demeanor of his friend—who, to speak the truth Was gravity itself—
Duke
Did I not tell you?
Castiglione
You did—and yet 'tis strange! but true, as strange, How much I was mistaken! I always thought The Earl a gloomy man.
Duke
So, so, you see! Be not too positive. Whom have we here? It cannot be the Earl?
Castiglione
The Earl! Oh no! Tis not the Earl—but yet it is—and leaning Upon his friend Baldazzar. Ah! welcome, sir! [Enter Politian and Baldazzar.] My lord, a second welcome let me give you To Rome—his Grace the Duke of Broglio. Father! this is the Earl Politian, Earl Of Leicester in Great Britain. [Politian bows haughtily.] That, his friend Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. The Earl has letters, So please you, for Your Grace.
Duke
Ha! ha! Most welcome To Rome and to our palace, Earl Politian! And you, most noble Duke! I am glad to see you! I knew your father well, my Lord Politian. Castiglione! call your cousin hither, And let me make the noble Earl acquainted With your betrothed. You come, sir, at a time Most seasonable. The wedding—
Politian
Touching those letters, sir, Your son made mention of—your son, is he not?— Touching those letters, sir, I wot not of them. If such there be, my friend Baldazzar here— Baldazzar! ah!—my friend Baldazzar here Will hand them to Your Grace. I would retire.
Duke
Retire!—so soon?
Castiglione
What ho! Benito! Rupert! His lordship's chambers—show his lordship to them! His lordship is unwell.
[Enter Benito]
Benito
This way, my lord!
[Exit, followed by Politian.]
Duke
Retire! Unwell!
Baldazzar
So please you, sir. I fear me 'Tis as you say—his lordship is unwell. The damp air of the evening—the fatigue Of a long journey—the—indeed I had better Follow his lordship. He must be unwell. I will return anon.
Duke
Return anon! Now this is very strange! Castiglione! This way, my son, I wish to speak with thee. You surely were mistaken in what you said Of the Earl, mirthful, indeed!—which of us said Politian was a melancholy man?
