Mascari, Signor Zicci hath not yet honored our poor house with his presence.

He is a distinguished stranger,--we must give a banquet in his honor." "Ah! and the cypress wine! The cypress is the proper emblem of the grave." "But this anon.

I am superstitious; there are strange stories of his power and foresight,--remember the Sicilian quackery! But meanwhile the Pisani--" "Your Excellency is infatuated.

The actress has bewitched you." "Mascari," said the Prince, with a haughty smile, "through these veins rolls the blood of the old Visconti,--of those who boasted that no woman ever escaped their lust, and no man their resentment.

The crown of my fathers has shrunk into a gewgaw and a toy,--their ambition and their spirit are undecayed.