I have forbidden All tapers at my burial, and procession Of priests and friars and monks; and have provided The cost thereof be given to the poor! MICHAEL ANGELO.
You have done wisely, but of that I speak not.
Ghiberti left behind him wealth and children; But who to-day would know that he had lived, If he had never made those gates of bronze In the old Baptistery,--those gates of bronze, Worthy to be the gates of Paradise.
His wealth is scattered to the winds; his children Are long since dead; but those celestial gates Survive, and keep his name and memory green.
FRA SEBASTIANO.
But why should I fatigue myself?
I think That all things it is possible to paint Have been already painted; and if not, Why, there are painters in the world at present Who can accomplish more in two short months Than I could in two years; so it is well That some one is contented to do nothing, And leave the field to others.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
O blasphemer! Not without reason do the people call you Sebastian del Piombo, for the lead Of all the Papal bulls is heavy upon you, And wraps you like a shroud.
FRA SEBASTIANO.
Misericordia! Sharp is the vinegar of sweet wine, and sharp The words you speak, because the heart within you Is sweet unto the core.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
How changed you are From the Sebastiano I once knew, When poor, laborious, emulous to excel, You strove in rivalry with Badassare And Raphael Sanzio.
FRA SEBASTIANO.
Raphael is dead; He is but dust and ashes in his grave, While I am living and enjoying life, And so am victor.

One live Pope is worth A dozen dead ones.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Raphael is not dead; He doth but sleep; for how can he be dead Who lives immortal in the hearts of men?
He only drank the precious wine of youth, The outbreak of the grapes, before the vintage Was trodden to bitterness by the feet of men.
The gods have given him sleep.

We never were Nor could be foes, although our followers, Who are distorted shadows of ourselves, Have striven to make us so; but each one worked Unconsciously upon the other's thought; Both giving and receiving.

He perchance Caught strength from me, and I some greater sweetness And tenderness from his more gentle nature.
I have but words of praise and admiration For his great genius; and the world is fairer That he lived in it.
FRA SEBASTIANO.
We at least are friends; So come with me.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
No, no; I am best pleased When I'm not asked to banquets.

I have reached A time of life when daily walks are shortened, And even the houses of our dearest friends, That used to be so near, seem far away.
FRA SEBASTIANO.
Then we must sup without you.