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Robert Browning - My Last Duchess
Work rating: Medium

	FERRARA

	That`s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
	Looking as if she were alive.  I call
	That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf`s hands
	Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
	Will`t 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 husband`s presence only, called that spot
	Of joy into the Duchess` cheek: perhaps
	Fr 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
	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.  
	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 anybody`s gift.  Who`d 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,
	—-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
	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
	Is ample warrant that no just pretence
	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,
	Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
	Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
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