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?

_Cas_. O nothing--nothing at all.

_Duke_. Nothing at all!

It is most singular that you should laugh At nothing at all!

_Cas_. 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?

_Cas_. Was it not so?

We differed in opinion touching him.

_Duke_. Him!--Whom?

_Cas_. 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.

_Cas_. 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.

_Cas_. '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?

_Cas_. 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?

_Cas_. 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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble 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?

_Cas_. What ho! Benito! Rupert!

His lordship's chambers--show his lordship to them!

His lordship is unwell.

(_Enter Benito_.)

_Ben_. This way, my lord!

(_Exit, followed by Politian_.)

_Duke_. Retire! Unwell!

_Bal_. 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?

(_Exeunt_.)

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