A Night in Avignon

To the dames of Avignon —
That shall be their shriving!

(He goes to the Loggia as they gayly applaud. Then Lello cries:)

Lello. Ho-ho! Petrarca! Pagan! are you in?
What! are you sonnet-monger?
Petrarca. Ai, ai, aih!

(Motions Gherardo —who goes.)

Lello. Come then! Your door is locked! down! let us in!

(Rattles it.)

Petrarca. No, ribald! hold! the key is on the sill!
Look for it and ascend!

(Orso enters.)

Stay, here is Orso!

(The old servant goes through and down the stairs to meet them. In a moment the tramp of feet is heard and they enter– Lello between them – singing:)

Guelph! Guelph! and Ghibbeline!
Ehyo! ninni! onni! ōnz!
I went fishing on All Saints' Day
And – caught but human bones!

I went fishing on All Saints' Day.
The Rhone ran swift, the wind blew black!
I went fishing on All Saints' Day —
But my love called me back!

She called me back and she kissed my lips —
Oh, my lips! Oh, onni! ōnz!
"Better take life than death," said she,
Better take love than – bones! bones!

(Sancia kisses Petrarca.)

"Better take love than bones."

(They scatter with glee and Petrarca seizes Sancia to him.)

Petrarca. Yes, little Sancia! and you, my friends!
Warm love is better, better!
And braver! Come, Lello! give me your hand!
And you, Filippa! No, I'll have your lips!
Sancia (interposing). Or – less? One at a time, Messer Petrarca!
You learn too fast. Mine only for to-night.
Petrarca. And for a thousand nights, Sancia fair!
Sancia. You hear him? Santa Madonna! pour us wine,
To pledge him in!
Petrarca.The tankards bubble o'er!

(They go to the table.)

And see, they are wreathed of April,
With loving myrtle and laurel intertwined.
We'll hold symposium, as bacchanals!
Sancia. And that is – what? some dull and silly show
Out of your sallow books?
Petrarca.Those books were writ
With ink of the gods, my Sancia, upon
Papyri of the stars!
Sancia. And – long ago?
Ha! long ago?
Petrarca. Returnless centuries!
Sancia (contemptuously). Who loves the past, loves mummies and their dust —
And he will mould!
Who loves the future loves what may not be,
And feeds on fear.
Only one flower has Time – its name is Now!
Come, pluck it! pluck it!
Lello.Brava, maid! the Now!
Sancia (dancing). Come, pluck it! pluck it!
Petrarca.By my soul, I will!

(Seizes her again.)

It grows upon these lips – and if to-night
They leant out over the brink of Hell, I would.

(She breaks from him.)

Filippa. Enough! the wine! the wine!
Sancia. O ever-thirsty
And ever-thrifty Pippa! Well, pour out!

(She lifts a brimming cup.)

We'll drink to Messer Petrarca —
Who's weary of his bed-mate, Solitude.
May he long revel in the courts of Venus!
All (drinking). Aih, long!
Petrarca. As long as Sancia enchants them!
Filippa. I'd trust him not, Sancia. Put him to oath.
Sancia. And, to the rack, if faithless? This Filippa!
Messer Petrarca, should she not be made