sand-hills and the line of the open sea. Mountains,
L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the
coast._

_As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country
folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the
Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to_
_the sound of an organ, boys' voices are chanting the
service of the Mass._

_Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace._


_Cesario._ Way there! Give room! The Regent comes from Mass.
Guards, butt them on the toes--way there! give room!
Prick me that laggard's leg-importunate fools!

_Guards._ Room for the Regent! Room!

[_The sacring bell rings within the Chapel._

_Cesario._ Hark there, the bell!

[_A pause. Men of the crowd take off their caps._

Could ye not leave, this day of all the year,
Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas?
Could ye not leave, this once in seven years,
Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass.
Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird heart,