Introduction to Robert Browning [108]
93. Morello: the highest of the spurs of the Apennines to the north of Florence.
96. Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?: it's beyond their criticism.
105. The Urbinate: Raphael Santi, born 1483, in Urbino. Andrea sees in Raphael, whose technique was inferior to his own, his superior, as he reached above and through his art -- for it gives way.
106. George Vasari: see note under St. 9 of `Old Pictures in Florence'.
120. Nay, Love, you did give all I asked: it must be understood that his wife has replied with pique, to what he said in the two preceding lines.
129. by the future: when placed by, in comparison with, the future.
130. Agnolo: Michael Angelo (more correctly, Agnolo) Buonarotti. See note under St. 30 of `Old Pictures in Florence'.
146. For fear of chancing on the Paris lords: by reason of his breaking the faith he had pledged to Francis I. of France, and using for his own purposes, or his wife's, the money with which the king had entrusted him to purchase works of art in Italy.
149-165. That Francis, that first time: he thinks with regret of the king and of his honored and inspiring stay at his court.
161. by those hearts: along with, by the aid of.
173. The triumph was. . .there: i.e., in your heart.
174. ere the triumph: in France.
177. Rafael did this, . . .was his wife: a remark ascribed to some critic.
198. If he spoke the truth: i.e., about himself.
199. What he: do you ask?
202. all I care for. . .is whether you're.
209. Morello's gone: its outlines are lost in the dusk. See v. 93.
218. That gold of his: see note to v. 146.
220. That cousin here again?: one of Lucrezia's gallants is referred to, to pay whose gaming debts, it appears, she has obtained money of her husband. It must be understood that this gallant whistles here. See last verse of the monologue.
263. Leonard: Leonardo da Vinci.
Fra Lippo Lippi.
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what's to blame? you think you see a monk! What, 'tis past midnight, and you go the rounds, And here you catch me at an alley's end Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar? The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up, Do, -- harry out, if you must show your zeal, Whatever rat, there, haps on his wrong hole, And nip each softling of a wee white mouse, [10] `Weke, weke', that's crept to keep him company! Aha! you know your betters? Then, you'll take Your hand away that's fiddling on my throat, And please to know me likewise. Who am I? Why, one, sir, who is lodging with a friend Three streets off -- he's a certain. . .how d'ye call? Master -- a. . .Cosimo of the Medici, I' the house that caps the corner. Boh! you were best! Remember and tell me, the day you're hanged, How you affected such a gullet's-gripe! [20] But you, sir, it concerns you that your knaves Pick up a manner, nor discredit you: Zooks, are we pilchards, that they sweep the streets And count fair prize what comes into their net? He's Judas to a tittle, that man is! Just such a face! Why, sir, you make amends. Lord, I'm not angry! Bid your hangdogs go Drink out this quarter-florin to the health Of the munificent House that harbors me (And many more beside, lads! more beside!) [30] And all's come square again. I'd like his face -- His, elbowing on his comrade in the door With the pike and lantern, -- for the slave that holds John Baptist's head a-dangle by the hair With one hand ("Look you, now", as who should say) And his weapon in the other, yet unwiped! It's not your chance to have a bit of chalk, A wood-coal or the like? or you should see! Yes, I'm the painter, since you style me so. What, brother Lippo's doings, up and down, [40] You know them, and they take you? like enough! I saw the proper twinkle in your eye -- 'Tell you, I liked your looks at very first. Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch. Here's