ACT IV.--SCENE I.

_A Church._

_Enter two CITIZENS._

FIRST CITIZEN. Strange omens these!

SECOND CITIZEN. They bode disaster, else Hath Nature changed, and her accustom'd course No longer holds.--See, from the ducal vault The stone--o'er which its mailed warrior rests In such grim pomp--is roll'd, as if that mouth Expectant yawn'd for prey.--How comes it thus?

THIRD CITIZEN. Some swarth attendant, late within the tomb, Hath left unclosed its yet insatiate gulf; And he returns ere long.--His task complete, This stone, oft visited, regains its place;-- Would it were closed for ever!

SECOND CITIZEN. Ne'er to his country's weal a truer prince Shall rise in Mantua--all proper tongues To his just praise are eloquent;--no voice But gathers blessing, when it speaks of Andrea. I'll peep o'er the dark wall of this huge grave. Fresh wonders still!--Here lie funeral trappings Covering the entrance;--an inscription too Upon the pall--[_Reads_]--"_Andrea, the fifth Duke Of Mantua_"--a goodly list of honours, Names and illustrious acts, now follow--"_Died_"-- I cannot tell those mystic characters-- Canst thou assign their import?

FIRST CITIZEN. I am not skill'd To interpret mysteries; but they are form'd By cabalistic art. Elsewhere I've seen The conjuror, Aldenbert, those uncouth shapes Upon his tablets tracing. 'Tis not language Akin to mortal tongue.

SECOND CITIZEN. Treason, I wot, with bold and impious front, Stalks forth uncheck'd:--it skulks not now abroad, But in the open day roams unabash'd, Nor shuns the sunbeam. Some unform'd event Is yet in ripening--it bursts ere long The shell of this dread mystery.

_Enter GRAVE-DIGGER and PRIEST._

GRAVE-DIGGER. None, father, save the Egyptian woman, who so troubles the church. She slept in the porch yesternight, and I sent her away this morning betimes.

PRIEST. Thou hast sent a message to the Duke?

GRAVE-DIGGER. Some half-hour agone.--I expect his highness in person will take special note of this matter.

PRIEST. I fear me they be foes, enemies to the Duke, who have done this.--Treachery puts on bold aspects, when such foretokenings as these go before her, with loud admonishing of her approach. Here comes the Duke.

_Enter DUKE with ATTENDANTS._

DUKE. Good morrow, friends. I am something curious to behold this device.--Some trick of intimidation, your petty wonder-monger breeds to set our citizens agape.--You have not disturbed this masked frolic?

GRAVE-DIGGER. My lord, it rests in such shape as when it scared me dismally ere the light was well out, about cock-crowing.

DUKE. Knowest thou any skulking vagrant of late loitering near the church?

GRAVE-DIGGER. None, your grace, save the tall gipsy--she slept in the porch yesternight.

DUKE. The gipsy woman?

GRAVE-DIGGER. She, with the linen turban, that walks the city with her arms folded--thus.

DUKE. She was in the porch?

GRAVE-DIGGER. I waked her there, but roughly, an hour agone.

DUKE. Here hangs some clue to guide us.--I'll have the beldame seized.--Raise that unseemly pall from the tomb, and close its mouth.--This inscription I'll keep as a brief chronicle of the event.--[_Takes off the inscription: a billet falls from beneath it._]--What counsels us here? One wonder treads fast upon another's heels, and o'ertops its neighbour.--[_Reads._]--"_I have garnished thy tomb, and it waiteth not for its prey. Depart!--When thou goest forth, but once shalt thou return hither!_"--Guard, search the city--every chink and avenue.--To your utmost speed.--This hag shall not escape.--Hence!--[_Exit Guard._]--My friends, let not this matter trouble you; some mischievous spirit hath malice at our peace, and hopes to work confusion within the city.--Soon we unravel the flimsy web of this strange craft. [_Exeunt._