Here before us We have the proof.

Behold those rounded limbs! How from the canvas they detach themselves, Till they deceive the eye, and one would say, It is a statue with a screen behind it! TITIAN.
Signori, pardon me; but all such questions Seem to me idle.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Idle as the wind.
And now, Maestro, I will say once more How admirable I esteem your work, And leave you, without further interruption.
TITIAN.
Your friendly visit hath much honored me.
GIOROIO.
Farewell.
MICHAEL ANGELO to GIORGIO, going out.
If the Venetian painters knew But half as much of drawing as of color, They would indeed work miracles in art, And the world see what it hath never seen.
VI PALAZZO CESARINI VITTORIA COLONNA, seated in an armchair; JULIA GONZAGA, standing near her.
JULIA.
It grieves me that I find you still so weak And suffering.
VITTORIA.
No, not suffering; only dying.
Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn; We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.
I am a shadow, merely, and these hands, These cheeks, these eyes, these tresses that my husband Once thought so beautiful, and I was proud of Because he thought them so, are faded quite,-- All beauty gone from them.
JULIA.
Ah, no, not that.
Paler you are, but not less beautiful.
VITTORIA.
Hand me the mirror.

I would fain behold What change comes o'er our features when we die.
Thank you.

And now sit down beside me here How glad I am that you have come to-day, Above all other days, and at the hour When most I need you! JULIA.
Do you ever need me?
VICTORIA.
Always, and most of all to-day and now.
Do you remember, Julia, when we walked, One afternoon, upon the castle terrace At Ischia, on the day before you left me?
JULIA.
Well I remember; but it seems to me Something unreal, that has never been,-- Something that I have read of in a book, Or heard of some one else.
VITTORIA.
Ten years and more Have passed since then; and many things have happened In those ten years, and many friends have died: Marco Flaminio, whom we all admired And loved as our Catullus; dear Valldesso, The noble champion of free thought and speech; And Cardinal Ippolito, your friend.
JULIA.
Oh, do not speak of him! His sudden death O'ercomes me now, as it o'ercame me then.
Let me forget it; for my memory Serves me too often as an unkind friend, And I remember things I would forget, While I forget the things I would remember.
VITTORIA.
Forgive me; I will speak of him no more, The good Fra Bernardino has departed, Has fled from Italy, and crossed the Alps, Fearing Caraffa's wrath, because he taught That He who made us all without our help Could also save us without aid of ours.
Renee of France, the Duchess of Ferrara, That Lily of the Loire, is bowed by winds That blow from Rome; Olympia Morata Banished from court because of this new doctrine.
Therefore be cautious.

Keep your secret thought Locked in your breast.
JULIA.
I will be very prudent But speak no more, I pray; it wearies you.
VITTORIA.
Yes, I am very weary.