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[He drags his hand away. She gazes at him
wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the
Guard.]

Cesario,
What are the suits?

CESARIO.
They are but three to-day,
Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons
For having struck the Guard.

REGENT
[eying the culprit).
His name, I think,
Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve,
Good man. The last time ’twas your wife you basted.
At this rate, in another year or two
You’ll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?

PRISONER.
I do.

REGENT.
Upon a promise we dismiss you.
Your tavern, as it comes into our mind,
Is the ‘Three Cups.’ So many, and no more,
You’ll drink to-day–have we your word? Three cups,
And each a Viva for the Duke’s return.

PRISONER.
Your Highness, I’ll not take it at the price
Of my good manners. I’m a gallant man:
And who in Adria calls. ‘Three cheers for the Duke!’
But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay;
Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!

[The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release him.]

REGENT.
What next?

AN OLD WOMAN
(very rapidly).

Your Highness will not know me–Zia
Agnese, Giovannucci’s wife that was;
And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may,
On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet
As your Highness knows–and always true to pail
Until this Nicolo–

NICOLO.
Lies! lies, your Highness!

OLD WOMAN.
Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye
On Serafina. She’s my best of cows,
In stall with calf but ten days weaned.

NICOLO.
Lies! lies!

OLD WOMAN.
I would your Highness saw her! When that thief
Hangs upon Lazarus’ bosom, he’ll be bidding
A ducat for each drop of milk he’s cost me,
To cool his tongue.

REGENT.
Ay–ay, the cow is sick,
I think; and mind me, being country-bred,
Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb
And comb the sufferer’s tail at feeding-time.
If Zia Agnese do but this, she’ll counter
The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own
Detect who thieves her Serafina’s hay.

OLD WOMAN.
God bless your Highness!

NICOLO.
God bless your Highness!

REGENT
[taking up a fresh suit)

Why, what’s here? “Costanza,
Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him
And sueth to live separate, for neglect
And divers beatings, as to wit—-“ H’m, h’m–
Likewise to keep the child Geronimo,
Begotten of his body. You defend
The suit, Giuseppe?

YOUNG PEASANT
[shrugs his shoulders].

As the woman will!
I’ll not deny I beat her.

REGENT.
But neglect!
How came you to neglect her? Look on her–
The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance,
Hath never washed her body since she wed.
A beating we might pass. But how neglect
To take her by the neck unto the pump
And hold her till her wet and furious face
Were once again worth kissing? Well–well–well!
Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts:
(To a Clerk) But–write, “Defendant keeps his lawful child.”

YOUNG PEASANT.
My lady–

WIFE.
Nay, my lady–

REGENT.
Eh? What’s this?

WIFE.
The poor bambino! Nay, ’twas not the suit!
How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man–