My Last Duchess by Robert Browning That's my last duchess, painted on the wall, looking as if she were alive. I call that piece a wonder now. Fra Pandolf's hands worked busily a day.
And there she stands. Will please you sit and look at her? I said, Fra 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, t'was not her husband's presence only called that spot of joy into the Duchess' cheek.
Perhaps Fra Pandolf chanced to say, Her mantle laps over my lady's wrist too much, Or paint may 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, t'was all one, My favourite her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the west, The bough of cherry, 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 a likely approving speech, Or blush at least. She thanked men good, but thanked somehow I know not. How, as if she ranked my gift 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 a 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 lessen so nor plainly set her wits to yours forsooth and make 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 pass without much the same smile this grew i gave commands then all smiles stopped together there she stands as if alive please you rise? We'll meet the company below, then. I repeat, the Count, your master's no munificence is ample warrant that no just pretense of mine for dowry will be disallowed, though his fair daughter's self, as I have vowed, at starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though.
"'Taming a seahorse, thought a rarity, "'which Klaus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.