SCENE: _A portion of the house, terrace and garden of Rizzio on his wedding day at Naples. It is so situated as to command a view of the city, the blue Bay with Capri set like a topaz in it, the Vesuvian coast, and the Mountain itself--rising like a calm though unappeasable monitor against the land's too sensual enchantment._
_The house, a white corner of which is visible along the right, has large doors toward the back giving upon the terrace. A vine-clad terrace wall, several feet above the level of the terrace, but much above that of the street without, runs across the rear to a cypress-set gate in the centre, and on into the lustrous Spring foliage of ilex, myrtle and orange._
_A pedestaled image of the Virgin against the house, a statue of Pan before a bower opposite, and several stone seats forward, are decked with orange blossoms that glow in the light of late afternoon._
_Music, reveling, and laughter are heard, muffled, within. Then amid a louder burst of them Osio strides angrily forth. He is followed in argumentative elation by Rizzio--clothed in Greek raiment, a book in his hand--and by Bruno._
_Osio_ (_as they come down_). Proof from the teeth of aliens and fools And infidels that follow their own reason? I want no proof! your books should burn in Hell!
_Rizzio_ (_gaily_). Because they glorify the stars in heaven?
That were your ears not stopped with sophistries And Jesuitry you would adjudge divine!
_Bruno._ Ai, Signor Osio, there's no denying!
We need but look, To learn that stars are worlds Swung out upon infinitudes of space. And as for earth-- Tho Christ shed blood upon it-- 'Tis but a pilgrim flame among them all.
_Osio_ (_turning upon him_). And you, a monk, will say so to the Church And to the Holy Office?
_Bruno_ (_in humorous alarm_). God forbid!
_Osio._ And you, Rizzio, who on your wedding-day, Mid rites of Venus And revels to Apollo, Wear pagan robes--and prink others in them--
_Rizzio_ (_laughing at him_). What, what, my merry raging brother, more? That Pan is not your god, whom I but now Besought for inward beauty and truth of soul? No, no, he is not, by Vesuvius!
_Rizzio._ That Plato and the ancients are A plague which only the Pope can purge from earth?