Robert Browning
My Last Duchess
from Dramatic Lyrics
Ferrara
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, | ||
Looking as if she were alive. I call | ||
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands | ||
Worked busily a day, and there she stands. | ||
5 | Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said | |
‘Frà Pandolf’ by design, for never read | ||
Strangers like you that pictured countenance, | ||
The depth and passion of its earnest glance, | ||
But to myself they turned (since none puts by | ||
10 | The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) | |
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, | ||
How such a glance came there; so, not the first | ||
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not | ||
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot | ||
15 | Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps | |
Frà Pandolf chanced to say ‘Her mantle laps | ||
Over my lady’s wrist too much,’ or ‘Paint | ||
Must never hope to reproduce the faint | ||
Half-flush that dies along her throat’: such stuff | ||
20 | Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough | |
For calling up that spot of joy. She had | ||
A heart – how shall I say? – too soon made glad, | ||
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er | ||
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. | ||
25 | Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast, | |
The dropping of the daylight in the West, | ||
The bough of cherries some officious fool | ||
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule | ||
She rode with round the terrace – all and each | ||
30 | Would draw from her alike the approving speech, | |
Or blush, at least. She thanked men, – good! but thanked | ||
Somehow – I know not how – as if she ranked | ||
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name | ||
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame | ||
35 | This sort of trifling? Even had you skill | |
In speech – (which I have not) – to make your will | ||
Quite clear to such an one, and say, ‘Just this | ||
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, | ||
Or there exceed the mark’ – and if she let | ||
40 | Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set | |
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, | ||
– E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose | ||
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, | ||
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without | ||
45 | Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; | |
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands | ||
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet | ||
The company below, then. I repeat, | ||
The Count your master’s known munificence | ||
50 | Is ample warrant that no just pretense | |
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; | ||
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed | ||
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go | ||
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, | ||
55 | Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, | |
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me. |
First published 1842
Robert Clark