I have cast in bronze A statue of Perseus, holding thus aloft In his left hand the head of the Medusa, And in his right the sword that severed it; His right foot planted on the lifeless corse; His face superb and pitiful, with eyes Down-looking on the victim of his vengeance.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I see it as it should be.
BENVENUTO.
As it will be When it is placed upon the Ducal Square, Half-way between your David and the Judith Of Donatello.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Rival of them both! BENVENUTO.
But ah, what infinite trouble have I had With Bandinello, and that stupid beast, The major-domo of Duke Cosimo, Francesco Ricci, and their wretched agent Gorini, who came crawling round about me Like a black spider, with his whining voice That sounded like the buzz of a mosquito! Oh, I have wept in utter desperation, And wished a thousand times I had not left My Tour do Nesle, nor e'er returned to Florence, Or thought of Perseus.

What malignant falsehoods They told the Grand Duke, to impede my work, And make me desperate! MICHAEL ANGELO.
The nimble lie Is like the second-hand upon a clock; We see it fly; while the hour-hand of truth Seems to stand still, and yet it moves unseen, And wins at last, for the clock will not strike Till it has reached the goal.
BENVENUTO.
My obstinacy Stood me in stead, and helped me to o'ercome The hindrances that envy and ill-will Put in my way.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
When anything is done People see not the patient doing of it, Nor think how great would be the loss to man If it had not been done.

As in a building Stone rests on stone, and wanting the foundation All would be wanting, so in human life Each action rests on the foregone event, That made it possible, but is forgotten And buried in the earth.
BENVENUTO.
Even Bandinello, Who never yet spake well of anything, Speaks well of this; and yet he told the Duke That, though I cast small figures well enough, I never could cast this.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
But you have done it, And proved Ser Bandinello a false prophet.
That is the wisest way.
BENVENUTO.
And ah, that casting What a wild scene it was, as late at night, A night of wind and rain, we heaped the furnace With pine of Serristori, till the flames Caught in the rafters over us, and threatened To send the burning roof upon our heads; And from the garden side the wind and rain Poured in upon us, and half quenched our fires.
I was beside myself with desperation.
A shudder came upon me, then a fever; I thought that I was dying, and was forced To leave the work-shop, and to throw myself Upon my bed, as one who has no hope.
And as I lay there, a deformed old man Appeared before me, and with dismal voice, Like one who doth exhort a criminal Led forth to death, exclaimed, "Poor Benvenuto, Thy work is spoiled! There is no remedy!" Then, with a cry so loud it might have reached The heaven of fire, I bounded to my feet, And rushed back to my workmen.

They all stood Bewildered and desponding; and I looked Into the furnace, and beheld the mass Half molten only, and in my despair I fed the fire with oak, whose terrible heat Soon made the sluggish metal shine and sparkle.
Then followed a bright flash, and an explosion, As if a thunderbolt had fallen among us.
The covering of the furnace had been rent Asunder, and the bronze was flowing over; So that I straightway opened all the sluices To fill the mould.

The metal ran like lava, Sluggish and heavy; and I sent my workmen To ransack the whole house, and bring together My pewter plates and pans, two hundred of them, And cast them one by one into the furnace To liquefy the mass, and in a moment The mould was filled! I fell upon my knees And thanked the Lord; and then we ate and drank And went to bed, all hearty and contented.
It was two hours before the break of day.
My fever was quite gone.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
A strange adventure, That could have happened to no man alive But you, my Benvenuto.
BENVENUTO.
As my workmen said To major-domo Ricci afterward, When he inquired of them: "'T was not a man, But an express great devil." MICHAEL ANGELO.
And the statue?
BENVENUTO.
Perfect in every part, save the right foot Of Perseus, as I had foretold the Duke.
There was just bronze enough to fill the mould; Not a drop over, not a drop too little.
I looked upon it as a miracle Wrought by the hand of God.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
And now I see How you have turned your vices into virtues.
BENVENUTO.
But wherefore do I prate of this?
I came To speak of other things.