My Last Duchess

FERRARA     Thats my last Duchess painted on the wall,     Looking as if she were alive. I call     That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolfs hands     Worked busily a day, and there she stands.     Willt please you sit and look at her? I said     Fr 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     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 husbands presence only, called that spot     Of joy into the Duchess cheek: perhaps     Fr Pandolf chanced to say Her mantle laps     Over my ladys wrist too much, or Paint     Must never hope to reproduce the faint     Half-flush that dies along her throat; such stuff     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 whateer     She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.     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     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 anybodys gift. Whod stoop to blame     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     Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set     Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,     Een then would be some stooping; and I choose     Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,     Wheneer I passed her; but who passed without     Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;     Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands     As if alive. Willt please you rise? Well meet     The company below, then. I repeat,     The Count your masters known munificence     Is ample warrant that no just pretence     Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;     Though his fair daughters self, as I avowed     At starting, is my object. Nay, well go     Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,     Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,     Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!