The summer was exceptionally hot, and plague hung about; all articles of food were dear and bad.

Michelangelo felt miserable, and fretted to be free; but the statue kept him hard at work.
When the time drew nigh for the great operation, he wrote in touching terms to Buonarroto: "Tell Lodovico (their father) that in the middle of next month I hope to cast my figure without fail.

Therefore, if he wishes to offer prayers or aught else for its good success, let him do so betimes, and say that I beg this of him." Nearly the whole of June elapsed, and the business still dragged on.

At last, upon the 1st of July, he advised his brother thus: "We have cast my figure, and it has come out so badly that I verily believe I shall have to do it all over again.

I reserve details, for I have other things to think of.