"Italy" ["My Last Duchess"]
By
Robert Browning
Transcription, correction, editorial commentary, and markup by Students and Staff at the University of
Virginia, Tonya Howe
[TP]
BELLS AND POMEGRANATES.
No. III.--DRAMATIC LYRICS.
BY ROBERT BROWNING,
AUTHOR OF "PARACELSUS."
London:
EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
MDCCCXLII
4 ITALY AND FRANCE. I.--ITALY. ["My Last Duchess"] 1That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, 2Looking as if she were alive. I call 3That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands 4Worked busily a day, and there she stands. 5Will 't please you sit and look at her? I said 6"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read 7Strangers like you that pictured countenance, 8The depth and passion of its earnest glance, 9But to myself they turned (since none puts by 10The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) 11And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, 12How such a glance came there; so, not the first 13Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not 14Her husband's presence only, called that spot 15Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps 16Frà Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps 17"Over my Lady's wrist too much," or "Paint 18"Must never hope to reproduce the faint 19"Half-flush that dies along her throat"; such stuff 20Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 21For calling up that spot of joy. She had 22A heart . . how shall I say? . . too soon made glad, 23Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er 24She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. 25Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast, 26The dropping of the daylight in the West, 27The bough of cherries some officious fool 28Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule 29She rode with round the terrace--all and each 30Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 31Or blush, at least. She thanked men,--good; but thanked 32Somehow . . I know not how . . as if she ranked 33My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name 34With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame 35This sort of trifling? Even had you skill 36In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will 37Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this 38"Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, 39"Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let 40Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set 41Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, 42--E'en then would be some stooping; and I chuse 43Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, 44Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without 45Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; 46Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands 47As if alive. Will 't please you rise? We'll meet 48The company below, then. I repeat, 49The Count your Master's known munificence 50Is ample warrant that no just pretence 51Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; 52Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed 53At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go 54Together down, Sir! Notice Neptune, tho', 55Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, 56Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
No. III.--DRAMATIC LYRICS.
BY ROBERT BROWNING,
AUTHOR OF "PARACELSUS."
London:
EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
MDCCCXLII
4 ITALY AND FRANCE. I.--ITALY. ["My Last Duchess"] 1That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, 2Looking as if she were alive. I call 3That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands 4Worked busily a day, and there she stands. 5Will 't please you sit and look at her? I said 6"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read 7Strangers like you that pictured countenance, 8The depth and passion of its earnest glance, 9But to myself they turned (since none puts by 10The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) 11And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, 12How such a glance came there; so, not the first 13Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not 14Her husband's presence only, called that spot 15Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps 16Frà Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps 17"Over my Lady's wrist too much," or "Paint 18"Must never hope to reproduce the faint 19"Half-flush that dies along her throat"; such stuff 20Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 21For calling up that spot of joy. She had 22A heart . . how shall I say? . . too soon made glad, 23Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er 24She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. 25Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast, 26The dropping of the daylight in the West, 27The bough of cherries some officious fool 28Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule 29She rode with round the terrace--all and each 30Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 31Or blush, at least. She thanked men,--good; but thanked 32Somehow . . I know not how . . as if she ranked 33My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name 34With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame 35This sort of trifling? Even had you skill 36In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will 37Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this 38"Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, 39"Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let 40Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set 41Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, 42--E'en then would be some stooping; and I chuse 43Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, 44Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without 45Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; 46Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands 47As if alive. Will 't please you rise? We'll meet 48The company below, then. I repeat, 49The Count your Master's known munificence 50Is ample warrant that no just pretence 51Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; 52Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed 53At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go 54Together down, Sir! Notice Neptune, tho', 55Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, 56Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.