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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE CENCI; A TRAGEDY: ACTS 4-5, by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: She comes not, yet I left her even now Last Line: We are quite ready. Well -- 't is very well. Subject(s): Despair; Hate; Italy; Italians | |||
Act IV DRAMATIS PERSONAE COUNT FRANCESCO CENCI. GIACOMO, BERNARDO, his Sons. CARDINAL CAMILLO. PRINCE COLONNA. ORSINO, a Prelate. SAVELLA, the Pope's Legate. OLIMPIO, MARZIO, Assassins. ANDREA, Servant to CENCI. NOBLES. JUDGES. GUARDS, SERVANTS. LUCRETIA, Wife of CENCI and Stepmother of his children. BEATRICE, his Daughter. The SCENE lies principally in Rome, but changes during the fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines. TIME. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII. SCENE I. -- An Apartment in the Castle of Petrella. Enter CENCI. CENCI SHE comes not; yet I left her even now Vanquished and faint. She knows the penalty Of her delay; yet what if threats are vain? Am I not now within Petrella's moat? Or fear I still the eyes and ears of Rome? Might I not drag her by the golden hair? Stamp on her? keep her sleepless till her brain Be overworn? tame her with chains and famine? Less would suffice. Yet so to leave undone What I most seek! No, 't is her stubborn will, Which, by its own consent, shall stoop as low As that which drags it down. Enter LUCRETIA Thou loathed wretch! Hide thee from my abhorrence; fly, begone! Yet stay! Bid Beatrice come hither. LUCRETIA Oh, Husband! I pray, for thine own wretched sake, Heed what thou dost. A man who walks like thee Through crimes, and through the danger of his crimes, Each hour may stumble o'er a sudden grave. And thou art old; thy hairs are hoary gray; As thou wouldst save thyself from death and hell, Pity thy daughter; give her to some friend In marriage; so that she may tempt thee not To hatred, or worse thoughts, if worse there be. CENCI What! like her sister, who has found a home To mock my hate from with prosperity? Strange ruin shall destroy both her and thee, And all that yet remain. My death may be Rapid, her destiny outspeeds it. Go, Bid her come hither, and before my mood Be changed, lest I should drag her by the hair. LUCRETIA She sent me to thee, husband. At thy presence She fell, as thou dost know, into a trance; And in that trance she heard a voice which said, 'Cenci must die! Let him confess himself! Even now the accusing Angel waits to hear If God, to punish his enormous crimes, Harden his dying heart!' CENCI Why -- such things are. No doubt divine revealings may be made. 'T is plain I have been favored from above, For when I cursed my sons, they died. -- Ay -- so. As to the right or wrong, that 's talk. Repentance? Repentance is an easy moment's work, And more depends on God than me. Well -- well -- I must give up the greater point, which was To poison and corrupt her soul. (A pause, LUCRETIA approaches anxiously, and then shrinks back as he speaks) One, two; Ay -- Rocco and Cristofano my curse Strangled; and Giacomo, I think, will find Life a worse Hell than that beyond the grave; Beatrice shall, if there be skill in hate, Die in despair, blaspheming; to Bernardo, He is so innocent, I will bequeathe The memory of these deeds, and make his youth The sepulchre of hope, where evil thoughts Shall grow like weeds on a neglected tomb. When all is done, out in the wide Campagna I will pile up my silver and my gold; My costly robes, paintings, and tapestries; My parchments, and all records of my wealth; And make a bonfire in my joy, and leave Of my possessions nothing but my name; Which shall be an inheritance to strip Its wearer bare as infamy. That done, My soul, which is a scourge, will I resign Into the hands of Him who wielded it; Be it for its own punishment or theirs, He will not ask it of me till the lash Be broken in its last and deepest wound; Until its hate be all inflicted. Yet, Lest death outspeed my purpose, let me make Short work and sure. [Going. LUCRETIA (stops him) Oh, stay! it was a feint; She had no vision, and she heard no voice. I said it but to awe thee. CENCI That is well. Vile palterer with the sacred truth of God, Be thy soul choked with that blaspheming lie! For Beatrice worse terrors are in store To bend her to my will. LUCRETIA Oh, to what will? What cruel sufferings more than she has known Canst thou inflict? CENCI Andrea! go, call my daughter And if she comes not, tell her that I come. (To LUCRETIA) What sufferings? I will drag her, step by step, Through infamies unheard of among men; She shall stand shelterless in the broad noon Of public scorn, for acts blazoned abroad, One among which shall be -- what? canst thou guess? She shall become (for what she most abhors Shall have a fascination to entrap Her loathing will) to her own conscious self All she appears to others; and when dead, As she shall die unshrived and unforgiven, A rebel to her father and her God, Her corpse shall be abandoned to the hounds; Her name shall be the terror of the earth; Her spirit shall approach the throne of God Plague-spotted with my curses. I will make Body and soul a monstrous lump of ruin. Enter ANDREA ANDREA The Lady Beatrice -- CENCI Speak, pale slave! what Said she? ANDREA My Lord, 't was what she looked; she said, 'Go tell my father that I see the gulf Of Hell between us two, which he may pass; I will not.' [Exit ANDREA. CENCI Go thou quick, Lucretia, Tell her to come; yet let her understand Her coming is consent; and say, moreover, That if she come not I will curse her. [Exit LUCRETIA. Ha! With what but with a father's curse doth God Panic-strike armed victory, and make pale Cities in their prosperity? The world's Father Must grant a parent's prayer against his child, Be he who asks even what men call me. Will not the deaths of her rebellious brothers Awe her before I speak? for I on them Did imprecate quick ruin, and it came. Enter LUCRETIA Well; what? Speak, wretch! LUCRETIA She said, 'I cannot come; Go tell my father that I see a torrent Of his own blood raging between us.' CENCI (kneeling) God, Hear me! If this most specious mass of flesh, Which thou hast made my daughter; this my blood, This particle of my divided being; Or rather, this my bane and my disease, Whose sight infects and poisons me; this devil, Which sprung from me as from a hell, was meant To aught good use; if her bright loveliness Was kindled to illumine this dark world; If, nursed by thy selectest dew of love, Such virtues blossom in her as should make The peace of life, I pray thee for my sake, As thou the common God and Father art Of her, and me, and all; reverse that doom! Earth, in the name of God, let her food be Poison, until she be encrusted round With leprous stains! Heaven, rain upon her head The blistering drops of the Maremma's dew Till she be speckled like a toad; parch up Those love-enkindled lips, warp those fine limbs To loathed lameness! All-beholding sun, Strike in thine envy those life-darting eyes With thine own blinding beams! LUCRETIA Peace, peace! For thine own sake unsay those dreadful words. When high God grants, he punishes such prayers. CENCI (leaping up, and throwing his right hand toward Heaven) He does his will, I mine! This in addition, That if she have a child -- LUCRETIA Horrible thought! CENCI That if she ever have a child -- and thou, Quick Nature! I adjure thee by thy God, That thou be fruitful in her, and increase And multiply, fulfilling his command, And my deep imprecation! -- may it be A hideous likeness of herself, that as From a distorting mirror she may see Her image mixed with what she most abhors, Smiling upon her from her nursing breast! And that the child may from its infancy Grow, day by day, more wicked and deformed, Turning her mother's love to misery! And that both she and it may live until It shall repay her care and pain with hate, Or what may else be more unnatural; So he may hunt her through the clamorous scoffs Of the loud world to a dishonored grave! Shall I revoke this curse? Go, bid her come, Before my words are chronicled in heaven. [Exit LUCRETIA. I do not feel as if I were a man, But like a fiend appointed to chastise The offences of some unremembered world. My blood is running up and down my veins; A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle; I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; My heart is beating with an expectation Of horrid joy. Enter LUCRETIA What? Speak! LUCRETIA She bids thee curse; And if thy curses, as they cannot do, Could kill her soul -- CENCI She would not come. 'T is well, I can do both; first take what I demand, And then extort concession. To thy chamber! Fly ere I spurn thee; and beware this night That thou cross not my footsteps. It were safer To come between the tiger and his prey. [Exit LUCRETIA. It must be late, mine eyes grow weary dim With unaccustomed heaviness of sleep. Conscience! O thou most insolent of lies! They say that sleep, that healing dew of heaven, Steeps not in balm the foldings of the brain Which thinks thee an impostor. I will go, First to belie thee with an hour of rest, Which will be deep and calm, I feel; and then -- O multitudinous Hell, the fiends will shake Thine arches with the laughter of their joy! There shall be lamentation heard in Heaven As o'er an angel fallen; and upon Earth All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things Shall, with a spirit of unnatural life, Stir and be quickened -- even as I am now. [Exit. SCENE II. -- Before the Castle of Petrella. Enter BEATRICE and LUCRETIA above on the ramparts. BEATRICE They come not yet. LUCRETIA 'T is scarce midnight. BEATRICE How slow Behind the course of thought, even sick with speed, Lags leaden-footed Time! LUCRETIA The minutes pass. If he should wake before the deed is done? BEATRICE O mother! he must never wake again. What thou hast said persuades me that our act Will but dislodge a spirit of deep hell Out of a human form. LUCRETIA 'T is true he spoke Of death and judgment with strange confidence For one so wicked; as a man believing In God, yet recking not of good or ill. And yet to die without confession! -- BEATRICE Oh! Believe that Heaven is merciful and just, And will not add our dread necessity To the amount of his offences. Enter OLIMPIO and MARZIO below LUCRETIA See, They come. BEATRICE All mortal things must hasten thus To their dark end. Let us go down. [Exeunt LUCRETIA and BEATRICE from above. OLIMPIO How feel you to this work? MARZIO As one who thinks A thousand crowns excellent market price For an old murderer's life. Your cheeks are pale. OLIMPIO It is the white reflection of your own, Which you call pale. MARZIO Is that their natural hue? OLIMPIO Or 't is my hate, and the deferred desire To wreak it, which extinguishes their blood. MARZIO You are inclined then to this business? OLIMPIO Ay, If one should bribe me with a thousand crowns To kill a serpent which had stung my child, I could not be more willing. Enter BEATRICE and LUCRETIA below Noble ladies! BEATRICE Are ye resolved? OLIMPIO Is he asleep? MARZIO Is all Quiet? LUCRETIA I mixed an opiate with his drink; He sleeps so soundly -- BEATRICE That his death will be But as a change of sin-chastising dreams, A dark continuance of the hell within him, Which God extinguish! But ye are resolved? Ye know it is a high and holy deed? OLIMPIO We are resolved. MARZIO As to the how this act Be warranted, it rests with you. BEATRICE Well, follow! OLIMPIO Hush! Hark! what noise is that? MARZIO Ha! some one comes! BEATRICE Ye conscience-stricken cravens, rock to rest Your baby hearts. It is the iron gate, Which ye left open, swinging to the wind, That enters whistling as in scorn. Come, follow! And be your steps like mine, light, quick and bold. [Exeunt. SCENE III. -- An Apartment in the Castle. Enter BEATRICE and LUCRETIA. LUCRETIA They are about it now. BEATRICE Nay, it is done. LUCRETIA I have not heard him groan. BEATRICE He will not groan. LUCRETIA What sound is that? BEATRICE List! 't is the tread of feet About his bed. LUCRETIA My God! If he be now a cold, stiff corpse -- BEATRICE Oh, fear not What may be done, but what is left undone; The act seals all. Enter OLIMPIO and MARZIO Is it accomplished? MARZIO What? OLIMPIO Did you not call? BEATRICE When? OLIMPIO Now. BEATRICE I ask if all is over? OLIMPIO We dare not kill an old and sleeping man; His thin gray hair, his stern and reverent brow, His veined hands crossed on his heaving breast, And the calm innocent sleep in which he lay, Quelled me. Indeed, indeed, I cannot do it. MARZIO But I was bolder; for I chid Olimpio, And bade him bear his wrongs to his own grave, And leave me the reward. And now my knife Touched the loose wrinkled throat, when the old man Stirred in his sleep, and said, 'God! hear, oh, hear A father's curse! What, art thou not our father?' And then he laughed. I knew it was the ghost Of my dead father speaking through his lips, And could not kill him. BEATRICE Miserable slaves! Where, if ye dare not kill a sleeping man, Found ye the boldness to return to me With such a deed undone? Base palterers! Cowards and traitors! Why, the very conscience Which ye would sell for gold and for revenge Is an equivocation; it sleeps over A thousand daily acts disgracing men; And when a deed, where mercy insults heaven -- Why do I talk? (Snatching a dagger from one of them, and raising it) Hadst thou a tongue to say, She murdered her own father, I must do it! But never dream ye shall outlive him long! OLIMPIO Stop, for God's sake! MARZIO I will go back and kill him. OLIMPIO Give me the weapon, we must do thy will. BEATRICE Take it! Depart! Return! [Exeunt OLIMPIO and MARZIO. How pale thou art! We do but that which 't were a deadly crime To leave undone. LUCRETIA Would it were done! BEATRICE Even whilst That doubt is passing through your mind, the world Is conscious of a change. Darkness and hell Have swallowed up the vapor they sent forth To blacken the sweet light of life. My breath Comes, methinks, lighter, and the jellied blood Runs freely through my veins. Hark! Enter OLIMPIO and MARZIO He is -- OLIMPIO Dead! MARZIO We strangled him, that there might be no blood; And then we threw his heavy corpse i' the garden Under the balcony; 't will seem it fell. BEATRICE (giving them a bag of coin) Here take this gold and hasten to your homes. And, Marzio, because thou wast only awed By that which made me tremble, wear thou this! (Clothes him in a rich mantle) It was the mantle which my grandfather Wore in his high prosperity, and men Envied his state; so may they envy thine. Thou wert a weapon in the hand of God To a just use. Live long and thrive! And, mark, If thou hast crimes, repent; this deed is none. (A horn is sounded) LUCRETIA Hark, 't is the castle horn: my God! it sounds Like the last trump. BEATRICE Some tedious guest is coming. LUCRETIA The drawbridge is let down; there is a tramp Of horses in the court; fly, hide yourselves! [Exeunt OLIMPIO and MARZIO. BEATRICE Let us retire to counterfeit deep rest; I scarcely need to counterfeit it now; The spirit which doth reign within these limbs Seems strangely undisturbed. I could even sleep Fearless and calm; all ill is surely past. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. -- Another Apartment in the Castle. Enter on one side the Legate SAVELLA, introduced by a Servant, and on the other LUCRETIA and BERNARDO. SAVELLA Lady, my duty to his Holiness Be my excuse that thus unseasonably I break upon your rest. I must speak with Count Cenci; doth he sleep? LUCRETIA (in a hurried and confused manner) I think he sleeps; Yet, wake him not, I pray, spare me awhile. He is a wicked and a wrathful man; Should he be roused out of his sleep tonight, Which is, I know, a hell of angry dreams, It were not well; indeed it were not well. Wait till day break. (Aside) Oh, I am deadly sick! SAVELLA I grieve thus to distress you, but the Count Must answer charges of the gravest import, And suddenly; such my commission is. LUCRETIA (with increased agitation) I dare not rouse him, I know none who dare; 'T were perilous; you might as safely waken A serpent, or a corpse in which some fiend Were laid to sleep. SAVELLA Lady, my moments here Are counted. I must rouse him from his sleep, Since none else dare. LUCRETIA (aside) Oh, terror! oh, despair! (To BERNARDO) Bernardo, conduct you the Lord Legate to Your father's chamber. [Exeunt SAVELLA and BERNARDO. Enter BEATRICE BEATRICE 'T is a messenger Come to arrest the culprit who now stands Before the throne of unappealable God. Both Earth and Heaven, consenting arbiters, Acquit our deed. LUCRETIA Oh, agony of fear! Would that he yet might live! Even now I heard The Legate's followers whisper as they passed They had a warrant for his instant death. All was prepared by unforbidden means, Which we must pay so dearly, having done. Even now they search the tower, and find the body; Now they suspect the truth; now they consult Before they come to tax us with the fact. Oh, horrible, 't is all discovered! BEATRICE Mother, What is done wisely is done well. Be bold As thou art just. 'T is like a truant child, To fear that others know what thou hast done, Even from thine own strong consciousness, and thus Write on unsteady eyes and altered cheeks All thou wouldst hide. Be faithful to thyself, And fear no other witness but thy fear. For if, as cannot be, some circumstance Should rise in accusation, we can blind Suspicion with such cheap astonishment, Or overbear it with such guiltless pride, As murderers cannot feign. The deed is done, And what may follow now regards not me. I am as universal as the light; Free as the earth-surrounding air; as firm As the world's centre. Consequence, to me, Is as the wind which strikes the solid rook, But shakes it not. (A cry within and tumult) VOICES Murder! Murder! Murder! Enter BERNARDO and SAVELLA SAVELLA (to his followers) Go, search the castle round; sound the alarm; Look to the gates, that none escape! BEATRICE What now? BERNARDO I know not what to say -- my father 's dead. BEATRICE How, dead! he only sleeps; you mistake, brother. His sleep is very calm, very like death; 'T is wonderful how well a tyrant sleeps. He is not dead? BERNARDO Dead; murdered! LUCRETIA (with extreme agitation) Oh, no, no! He is not murdered, though he may be dead; I have alone the keys of those apartments. SAVELLA Ha! is it so? BEATRICE My Lord, I pray excuse us; We will retire; my mother is not well; She seems quite overcome with this strange horror. [Exeunt LUCRETIA and BEATRICE. SAVELLA Can you suspect who may have murdered him? BERNARDO I know not what to think. SAVELLA Can you name any Who had an interest in his death? BERNARDO Alas! I can name none who had not, and those most Who most lament that such a deed is done; My mother, and my sister, and myself. SAVELLA 'T is strange! There were clear marks of violence. I found the old man's body in the moonlight, Hanging beneath the window of his chamber Among the branches of a pine; he could not Have fallen there, for all his limbs lay heaped And effortless; 't is true there was no blood. Favor me, sir -- it much imports your house That all should be made clear -- to tell the ladies That I request their presence. [Exit BERNARDO. Enter Guards, bringing in MARZIO GUARD We have one. OFFICER My Lord, we found this ruffian and another Lurking among the rocks; there is no doubt But that they are the murderers of Count Cenci; Each had a bag of coin; this fellow wore A gold-inwoven robe, which, shining bright Under the dark rocks to the glimmering moon, Betrayed them to our notice; the other fell Desperately fighting. SAVELLA What does he confess? OFFICER He keeps firm silence; but these lines found on him May speak. SAVELLA Their language is at least sincere. (Reads) "TO THE LADY BEATRICE. That the atonement of what my nature sickens to conjecture may soon arrive, I send thee, at thy brother's desire, those who will speak and do more than I dare write. Thy devoted servant, ORSINO." Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and BERNARDO Knowest thou this writing, lady? BEATRICE No. SAVELLA Nor thou? LUCRETIA (her conduct throughout the scene is marked by extreme agitation) Where was it found? What is it? It should be Orsino's hand! It speaks of that strange horror Which never yet found utterance, but which made Between that hapless child and her dead father A gulf of obscure hatred. SAVELLA Is it so, Is it true, Lady, that thy father did Such outrages as to awaken in thee Unfilial hate? BEATRICE Not hate, 't was more than hate; This is most true, yet wherefore question me? SAVELLA There is a deed demanding question done; Thou hast a secret which will answer not. BEATRICE What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold and rash. SAVELLA I do arrest all present in the name Of the Pope's Holiness. You must to Rome. LUCRETIA Oh, not to Rome! indeed we are not guilty. BEATRICE Guilty! who dares talk of guilt? My Lord, I am more innocent of parricide Than is a child born fatherless. Dear mother, Your gentleness and patience are no shield For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie, Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws, Rather will ye who are their ministers, Bar all access to retribution first, And then, when Heaven doth interpose to do What ye neglect, arming familiar things To the redress of an unwonted crime, Make ye the victims who demanded it Culprits? 'T is ye are culprits! That poor wretch Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed, If it be true he murdered Cenci, was A sword in the right hand of justest God. Wherefore should I have wielded it? unless The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name God therefore scruples to avenge. SAVELLA You own That you desired his death? BEATRICE It would have been A crime no less than his, if for one moment That fierce desire had faded in my heart. 'T is true I did believe, and hope, and pray, Ay, I even knew -- for God is wise and just -- That some strange sudden death hung over him. 'T is true that this did happen, and most true There was no other rest for me on earth, No other hope in Heaven. Now what of this? SAVELLA Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here are both; I judge thee not. BEATRICE And yet, if you arrest me, You are the judge and executioner Of that which is the life of life; the breath Of accusation kills an innocent name, And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life Which is a mask without it. 'T is most false That I am guilty of foul parricide; Although I must rejoice, for justest cause, That other hands have sent my father's soul To ask the mercy he denied to me. Now leave us free; stain not a noble house With vague surmises of rejected crime; Add to our sufferings and your own neglect No heavier sum; let them have been enough; Leave us the wreck we have. SAVELLA I dare not, Lady. I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome. There the Pope's further pleasure will be known. LUCRETIA Oh, not to Rome! Oh, take us not to Rome! BEATRICE Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as here Our innocence is as an armed heel To trample accusation. God is there, As here, and with his shadow ever clothes The innocent, the injured, and the weak; And such are we. Cheer up, dear Lady! lean On me; collect your wandering thoughts. My Lord, As soon as you have taken some refreshment, And had all such examinations made Upon the spot as may be necessary To the full understanding of this matter, We shall be ready. Mother, will you come? LUCRETIA Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest Self-accusation from our agony! Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio? All present; all confronted; all demanding Each from the other's countenance the thing Which is in every heart! Oh, misery! (She faints, and is borne out) SAVELLA She faints; an ill appearance this. BEATRICE My Lord, She knows not yet the uses of the world. She fears that power is as a beast which grasps And loosens not; a snake whose look transmutes All things to guilt which is its nutriment. She cannot know how well the supine slaves Of blind authority read the truth of things When written on a brow of guilelessness; She sees not yet triumphant Innocence Stand at the judgment-seat of mortal man, A judge and an accuser of the wrong Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord. Our suite will join yours in the court below. [Exeunt. Act V DRAMATIS PERSONAE COUNT FRANCESCO CENCI. GIACOMO, BERNARDO, his Sons. CARDINAL CAMILLO. PRINCE COLONNA. ORSINO, a Prelate. SAVELLA, the Pope's Legate. OLIMPIO, MARZIO, Assassins. ANDREA, Servant to CENCI. NOBLES. JUDGES. GUARDS, SERVANTS. LUCRETIA, Wife of CENCI and Stepmother of his children. BEATRICE, his Daughter. The SCENE lies principally in Rome, but changes during the fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines. TIME. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII. SCENE I. -- An Apartment in ORSINO'S Palace. Enter ORSINO and GIACOMO. GIACOMO Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end? Oh, that the vain remorse which must chastise Crimes done had but as loud a voice to warn As its keen sting is mortal to avenge! Oh, that the hour when present had cast off The mantle of its mystery, and shown The ghastly form with which it now returns When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds Of conscience to their prey! Alas, alas! It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed, To kill an old and hoary-headed father. ORSINO It has turned out unluckily, in truth. GIACOMO To violate the sacred doors of sleep; To cheat kind nature of the placid death Which she prepares for overwearied age; To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul, Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers A life of burning crimes -- ORSINO You cannot say I urged you to the deed. GIACOMO Oh, had I never Found in thy smooth and ready countenance The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou Never with hints and questions made me look Upon the monster of my thought, until It grew familiar to desire -- ORSINO 'T is thus Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts Upon the abettors of their own resolve; Or anything but their weak, guilty selves. And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness Of penitence; confess 't is fear disguised From its own shame that takes the mantle now Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe? GIACOMO How can that be? Already Beatrice, Lucretia and the murderer are in prison. I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak, Sent to arrest us. ORSINO I have all prepared For instant flight. We can escape even now, So we take fleet occasion by the hair. GIACOMO Rather expire in tortures, as I may. What! will you cast by self-accusing flight Assured conviction upon Beatrice? She who alone, in this unnatural work Stands like God's angel ministered upon By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong As turns black parricide to piety; Whilst we for basest ends -- I fear, Orsino, While I consider all your words and looks, Comparing them with your proposal now, That you must be a villain. For what end Could you engage in such a perilous crime, Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles, Even to this gulf? Thou art no liar? No, Thou art a lie! Traitor and murderer! Coward and slave! But no -- defend thyself; (Drawing) Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue Disdains to brand thee with. ORSINO Put up your weapon. Is it the desperation of your fear Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend, Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed Was but to try you. As for me, I think Thankless affection led me to this point, From which, if my firm temper could repent, I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak, The ministers of justice wait below; They grant me these brief moments. Now, if you Have any word of melancholy comfort To speak to your pale wife, 't were best to pass Out at the postern, and avoid them so. GIACOMO O generous friend! how canst thou pardon me? Would that my life could purchase thine! ORSINO That wish Now comes a day too late. Haste; fare thee well! Hear'st thou not steps along the corridor? [Exit GIACOMO. I 'm sorry for it; but the guards are waiting At his own gate, and such was my contrivance That I might rid me both of him and them. I thought to act a solemn comedy Upon the painted scene of this new world, And to attain my own peculiar ends By some such plot of mingled good and ill As others weave; but there arose a Power Which grasped and snapped the threads of my device, And turned it to a net of ruin -- Ha! (A shout is heard) Is that my name I hear proclaimed abroad? But I will pass, wrapped in a vile disguise, Rags on my back and a false innocence Upon my face, through the misdeeming crowd, Which judges by what seems. 'T is easy then, For a new name and for a country new, And a new life fashioned on old desires, To change the honors of abandoned Rome. And these must be the masks of that within, Which must remain unaltered. -- Oh, I fear That what is past will never let me rest! Why, when none else is conscious, but myself, Of my misdeeds, should my own heart's contempt Trouble me? Have I not the power to fly My own reproaches? Shall I be the slave Of -- what? A word? which those of this false world Employ against each other, not themselves, As men wear daggers not for self-offence. But if I am mistaken, where shall I Find the disguise to hide me from myself, As now I skulk from every other eye? [Exit. SCENE II. -- A Hall of Justice. CAMILLO, JUDGES, etc., are discovered seated; MARZIO is led in. FIRST JUDGE Accused, do you persist in your denial? I ask you, are you innocent, or guilty? I demand who were the participators In your offence. Speak truth, and the whole truth. MARZIO My God! I did not kill him; I know nothing; Olimpio sold the robe to me from which You would infer my guilt. SECOND JUDGE Away with him! FIRST JUDGE Dare you, with lips yet white from the rack's kiss, Speak false? Is it so soft a questioner That you would bandy lover's talk with it, Till it wind out your life and soul? Away! MARZIO Spare me! Oh, spare! I will confess. FIRST JUDGE Then speak. MARZIO I strangled him in his sleep. FIRST JUDGE Who urged you to it? MARZIO His own son Giacomo and the young prelate Orsino sent me to Petrella; there The ladies Beatrice and Lucretia Tempted me with a thousand crowns, and I And my companion forthwith murdered him. Now let me die. FIRST JUDGE This sounds as bad as truth. Guards, there, lead forth the prisoners. Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE and GIACOMO, guarded Look upon this man; When did you see him last? BEATRICE We never saw him. MARZIO You know me too well, Lady Beatrice. BEATRICE I know thee! how? where? when? MARZIO You know 't was I Whom you did urge with menaces and bribes To kill your father. When the thing was done, You clothed me in a robe of woven gold, And bade me thrive; how I have thriven, you see. You, my Lord Giacomo, Lady Lucretia, You know that what I speak is true. [BEATRICE advances towards him; he covers his face, and shrinks back. Oh, dart The terrible resentment of those eyes On the dead earth! Turn them away from me! They wound; 't was torture forced the truth. My Lords, Having said this, let me be led to death. BEATRICE Poor wretch, I pity thee; yet stay awhile. CAMILLO Guards, lead him not away. BEATRICE Cardinal Camillo, You have a good repute for gentleness And wisdom; can it be that you sit here To countenance a wicked farce like this? When some obscure and trembling slave is dragged From sufferings which might shake the sternest heart And bade to answer, not as he believes, But as those may suspect or do desire Whose questions thence suggest their own reply; And that in peril of such hideous torments As merciful God spares even the damned. Speak now The thing you surely know, which is, that you, If your fine frame were stretched upon that wheel, And you were told, 'Confess that you did poison Your little nephew; that fair blue-eyed child Who was the lodestar of your life;' and though All see, since his most swift and piteous death, That day and night, and heaven and earth, and time, And all the things hoped for or done therein, Are changed to you, through your exceeding grief, Yet you would say, 'I confess anything,' And beg from your tormentors, like that slave, The refuge of dishonorable death. I pray thee, Cardinal, that thou assert My innocence. CAMILLO (much moved) What shall we think, my Lords? Shame on these tears! I thought the heart was frozen Which is their fountain. I would pledge my soul That she is guiltless. JUDGE Yet she must be tortured. CAMILLO I would as soon have tortured mine own nephew (If he now lived, he would be just her age; His hair, too, was her color, and his eyes Like hers in shape, but blue and not so deep) As that most perfect image of God's love That ever came sorrowing upon the earth. She is as pure as speechless infancy! JUDGE Well, be her purity on your head, my Lord, If you forbid the rack. His Holiness Enjoined us to pursue this monstrous crime By the severest forms of law; nay, even To stretch a point against the criminals. The prisoners stand accused of parricide Upon such evidence as justifies Torture. BEATRICE What evidence? This man's? JUDGE Even so. BEATRICE (to MARZIO) Come near. And who art thou, thus chosen forth Out of the multitude of living men, To kill the innocent? MARZIO I am Marzio, Thy father's vassal. BEATRICE Fix thine eyes on mine; Answer to what I ask. (Turning to the Judges) I prithee mark His countenance; unlike bold calumny, Which sometimes dares not speak the thing it looks, He dares not look the thing he speaks, but bends His gaze on the blind earth. (To MARZIO) What! wilt thou say That I did murder my own father? MARZIO Oh! Spare me! My brain swims round -- I cannot speak -- It was that horrid torture forced the truth. Take me away! Let her not look on me! I am a guilty miserable wretch! I have said all I know; now, let me die! BEATRICE My Lords, if by my nature I had been So stern as to have planned the crime alleged, Which your suspicions dictate to this slave And the rack makes him utter, do you think I should have left this two-edged instrument Of my misdeed; this man, this bloody knife, With my own name engraven on the heft, Lying unsheathed amid a world of foes, For my own death? that with such horrible need For deepest silence I should have neglected So trivial a precaution as the making His tomb the keeper of a secret written On a thief's memory? What is his poor life? What are a thousand lives? A parricide Had trampled them like dust; and see, he lives! (Turning to MARZIO) And thou -- MARZIO Oh, spare me! Speak to me no more! That stern yet piteous look, those solemn tones, Wound worse than torture. (To the Judges) I have told it all; For pity's sake lead me away to death. CAMILLO Guards, lead him nearer the Lady Beatrice; He shrinks from her regard like autumn's leaf From the keen breath of the serenest north. BEATRICE O thou who tremblest on the giddy verge Of life and death, pause ere thou answerest me; So mayst thou answer God with less dismay. What evil have we done thee? I, alas! Have lived but on this earth a few sad years, And so my lot was ordered that a father First turned the moments of awakening life To drops, each poisoning youth's sweet hope; and then Stabbed with one blow my everlasting soul, And my untainted fame; and even that peace Which sleeps within the core of the heart's heart. But the wound was not mortal; so my hate Became the only worship I could lift To our great Father, who in pity and love Armed thee, as thou dost say, to cut him off; And thus his wrong becomes my accusation. And art thou the accuser? If thou hopest Mercy in heaven, show justice upon earth; Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart. If thou hast done murders, made thy life's path Over the trampled laws of God and man, Rush not before thy Judge, and say: 'My Maker, I have done this and more; for there was one Who was most pure and innocent on earth; And because she endured what never any, Guilty or innocent, endured before, Because her wrongs could not be told, nor thought, Because thy hand at length did rescue her, I with my words killed her and all her kin.' Think, I adjure you, what it is to slay The reverence living in the minds of men Towards our ancient house and stainless fame! Think what it is to strangle infant pity, Cradled in the belief of guileless looks, Till it become a crime to suffer. Think What 't is to blot with infamy and blood All that which shows like innocence, and is -- Hear me, great God! -- I swear, most innocent; So that the world lose all discrimination Between the sly, fierce, wild regard of guilt, And that which now compels thee to reply To what I ask: Am I, or am I not A parricide? MARZIO Thou art not! JUDGE What is this? MARZIO I here declare those whom I did accuse Are innocent. 'T is I alone am guilty. JUDGE Drag him away to torments; let them be Subtle and long drawn out, to tear the folds Of the heart's inmost cell. Unbind him not Till he confess. MARZIO Torture me as ye will; A keener pang has wrung a higher truth From my last breath. She is most innocent! Bloodhounds, not men, glut yourselves well with me! I will not give you that fine piece of nature To rend and ruin. [Exit MARZIO, guarded. CAMILLO What say ye now, my Lords? JUDGE Let tortures strain the truth till it be white As snow thrice-sifted by the frozen wind. CAMILLO Yet stained with blood. JUDGE (to BEATRICE) Know you this paper, Lady? BEATRICE Entrap me not with questions. Who stands here As my accuser? Ha! wilt thou be he, Who art my judge? Accuser, witness, judge, What, all in one? Here is Orsino's name; Where is Orsino? Let his eye meet mine. What means this scrawl? Alas! ye know not what. And therefore on the chance that it may be Some evil, will ye kill us? Enter an Officer OFFICER Marzio 's dead. JUDGE What did he say? OFFICER Nothing. As soon as we Had bound him on the wheel, he smiled on us, As one who baffles a deep adversary; And holding his breath died. JUDGE There remains nothing But to apply the question to those prisoners Who yet remain stubborn. CAMILLO I overrule Further proceedings, and in the behalf Of these most innocent and noble persons Will use my interest with the Holy Father. JUDGE Let the Pope's pleasure then be done. Meanwhile Conduct these culprits each to separate cells; And be the engines ready; for this night, If the Pope's resolution be as grave, Pious, and just as once, I 'll wring the truth Out of those nerves and sinews, groan by groan. [Exeunt. SCENE III. -- The Cell of a Prison. BEATRICE is discovered asleep on a couch. Enter BERNARDO BERNARDO How gently slumber rests upon her face, Like the last thoughts of some day sweetly spent, Closing in night and dreams, and so prolonged. After such torments as she bore last night, How light and soft her breathing comes. Ay me! Methinks that I shall never sleep again. But I must shake the heavenly dew of rest From this sweet folded flower, thus -- wake, awake! What, sister, canst thou sleep? BEATRICE (awaking) I was just dreaming That we were all in Paradise. Thou knowest This cell seems like a kind of Paradise After our father's presence. BERNARDO Dear, dear sister, Would that thy dream were not a dream! Oh, God, How shall I tell? BEATRICE What wouldst thou tell, sweet brother? BERNARDO Look not so calm and happy, or even whilst I stand considering what I have to say, My heart will break. BEATRICE See now, thou mak'st me weep; How very friendless thou wouldst be, dear child, If I were dead. Say what thou hast to say. BERNARDO They have confessed; they could endure no more The tortures -- BEATRICE Ha! what was there to confess? They must have told some weak and wicked lie To flatter their tormentors. Have they said That they were guilty? O white innocence, That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide Thine awful and serenest countenance From those who know thee not! Enter JUDGE, with LUCRETIA and GIACOMO, guarded Ignoble hearts! For some brief spasms of pain, which are at least As mortal as the limbs through which they pass, Are centuries of high splendor laid in dust? And that eternal honor, which should live Sunlike, above the reek of mortal fame, Changed to a mockery and a byword? What! Will you give up these bodies to be dragged At horses' heels, so that our hair should sweep The footsteps of the vain and senseless crowd, Who, that they may make our calamity Their worship and their spectacle, will leave The churches and the theatres as void As their own hearts? Shall the light multitude Fling, at their choice, curses or faded pity, Sad funeral flowers to deck a living corpse, Upon us as we pass to pass away, And leave -- what memory of our having been? Infamy, blood, terror, despair? O thou Who wert a mother to the parentless, Kill not thy child! let not her wrongs kill thee! Brother, lie down with me upon the rack, And let us each be silent as a corpse; It soon will be as soft as any grave. 'T is but the falsehood it can wring from fear Makes the rack cruel. GIACOMO They will tear the truth Even from thee at last, those cruel pains; For pity's sake say thou art guilty now. LUCRETIA Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die; And after death, God is our judge, not they; He will have mercy on us. BERNARDO If indeed It can be true, say so, dear sister mine; And then the Pope will surely pardon you, And all be well. JUDGE Confess, or I will warp Your limbs with such keen tortures -- BEATRICE Tortures! Turn The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel! Torture your dog, that he may tell when last He lapped the blood his master shed -- not me! My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart, And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul, Which weeps within tears as of burning gall To see, in this ill world where none are true, My kindred false to their deserted selves; And with considering all the wretched life Which I have lived, and its now wretched end; And the small justice shown by Heaven and Earth To me or mine; and what a tyrant thou art, And what slaves these; and what a world we make, The oppressor and the oppressed -- such pangs compel My answer. What is it thou wouldst with me? JUDGE Art thou not guilty of thy father's death? BEATRICE Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God That he permitted such an act as that Which I have suffered, and which he beheld; Made it unutterable, and took from it All refuge, all revenge, all consequence, But that which thou hast called my father's death? Which is or is not what men call a crime, Which either I have done, or have not done; Say what ye will. I shall deny no more. If ye desire it thus, thus let it be, And so an end of all. Now do your will; No other pains shall force another word. JUDGE She is convicted, but has not confessed. Be it enough. Until their final sentence Let none have converse with them. You, young Lord, Linger not here! BEATRICE Oh, tear him not away! JUDGE Guards! do your duty. BERNARDO (embracing BEATRICE) Oh! would ye divide Body from soul? OFFICER That is the headsman's business. [Exeunt all but LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and GIACOMO. GIACOMO Have I confessed? Is it all over now? No hope! no refuge! O weak, wicked tongue, Which hast destroyed me, would that thou hadst been Cut out and thrown to dogs first! To have killed My father first, and then betrayed my sister -- Ay thee! the one thing innocent and pure In this black, guilty world -- to that which I So well deserve! My wife! my little ones! Destitute, helpless; and I -- Father! God! Canst thou forgive even the unforgiving, When their full hearts break thus, thus? (Covers his face and weeps) LUCRETIA O my child! To what a dreadful end are we all come! Why did I yield? Why did I not sustain Those torments? Oh, that I were all dissolved Into these fast and unavailing tears, Which flow and feel not! BEATRICE What 't was weak to do, 'T is weaker to lament, once being done; Take cheer! The God who knew my wrong, and made Our speedy act the angel of his wrath, Seems, and but seems, to have abandoned us. Let us not think that we shall die for this. Brother, sit near me; give me your firm hand, You had a manly heart. Bear up! bear up! O dearest Lady, put your gentle head Upon my lap, and try to sleep awhile; Your eyes look pale, hollow, and overworn, With heaviness of watching and slow grief. Come, I will sing you some low, sleepy tune, Not cheerful, nor yet sad; some dull old thing, Some outworn and unused monotony, Such as our country gossips sing and spin, Till they almost forget they live. Lie down -- So, that will do. Have I forgot the words? Faith! they are sadder than I thought they were. SONG False friend, wilt thou smile or weep When my life is laid asleep? Little cares for a smile or a tear, The clay-cold corpse upon the bier! Farewell! Heigh-ho! What is this whispers low? There is a snake in thy smile, my dear; And bitter poison within thy tear. Sweet sleep! were death like to thee, Or if thou couldst mortal be, I would close these eyes of pain; When to wake? Never again. O World! farewell! Listen to the passing bell! It say, thou and I must part, With a light and a heavy heart. (The scene closes) SCENE IV. -- A Hall of the Prison. Enter CAMILLO and BERNARDO. CAMILLO The Pope is stern; not to be moved or bent. He looked as calm and keen as is the engine Which tortures and which kills, exempt itself From aught that it inflicts; a marble form, A rite, a law, a custom, not a man. He frowned, as if to frown had been the trick Of his machinery, on the advocates Presenting the defences, which he tore And threw behind, muttering with hoarse, harsh voice -- 'Which among ye defended their old father Killed in his sleep?' then to another -- 'Thou Dost this in virtue of thy place; 't is well.' He turned to me then, looking deprecation, And said these three words, coldly -- 'They must die.' BERNARDO And yet you left him not? CAMILLO I urged him still; Pleading, as I could guess, the devilish wrong Which prompted your unnatural parent's death. And he replied -- 'Paolo Santa Croce Murdered his mother yester evening, And he is fled. Parricide grows so rife, That soon, for some just cause no doubt, the young Will strangle us all, dozing in our chairs. Authority, and power, and hoary hair Are grown crimes capital. You are my nephew, You come to ask their pardon; stay a moment; Here is their sentence; never see me more Till, to the letter, it be all fulfilled.' BERNARDO Oh, God, not so! I did believe indeed That all you said was but sad preparation For happy news. Oh, there are words and looks To bend the sternest purpose! Once I knew them, Now I forget them at my dearest need. What think you if I seek him out, and bathe His feet and robe with hot and bitter tears? Importune him with prayers, vexing his brain With my perpetual cries, until in rage He strike me with his pastoral cross, and trample Upon my prostrate head, so that my blood May stain the senseless dust on which he treads, And remorse waken mercy? I will do it! Oh, wait till I return! [Rushes out. CAMILLO Alas, poor boy! A wreck-devoted seaman thus might pray To the deaf sea. Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and GIACOMO, guarded BEATRICE I hardly dare to fear That thou bring'st other news than a just pardon. CAMILLO May God in heaven be less inexorable To the Pope's prayers than he has been to mine. Here is the sentence and the warrant. BEATRICE (wildly) Oh, My God! Can it be possible I have To die so suddenly? so young to go Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! To be nailed down into a narrow place; To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost! How fearful! to be nothing! Or to be -- What? Oh, where am I? Let me not go mad! Sweet Heaven, forgive weak thoughts! If there should be No God, no Heaven, no Earth in the void world -- The wide, gray, lampless, deep, unpeopled world! If all things then should be -- my father's spirit, His eye, his voice, his touch surrounding me; The atmosphere and breath of my dead life! If sometimes, as a shape more like himself, Even the form which tortured me on earth, Masked in gray hairs and wrinkles, he should come, And wind me in his hellish arms, and fix His eyes on mine, and drag me down, down, down! For was he not alone omnipotent On Earth, and ever present? even though dead, Does not his spirit live in all that breathe, And work for me and mine still the same ruin, Scorn, pain, despair? Who ever yet returned To teach the laws of death's untrodden realm? Unjust perhaps as those which drive us now, Oh, whither, whither? LUCRETIA Trust in God's sweet love, The tender promises of Christ; ere night, Think we shall be in Paradise. BEATRICE 'T is past! Whatever comes, my heart shall sink no more. And yet, I know not why, your words strike chill; How tedious, false, and cold seem all things! I Have met with much injustice in this world; No difference has been made by God or man, Or any power moulding my wretched lot, 'Twixt good or evil, as regarded me. I am cut off from the only world I know, From light, and life, and love, in youth's sweet prime. You do well telling me to trust in God; I hope I do trust in him. In whom else Can any trust? And yet my heart is cold. (During the latter speeches GIACOMO has retired conversing with CAMILLO, who now goes out; GIACOMO advances) GIACOMO Know you not, mother -- sister, know you not? Bernardo even now is gone to implore The Pope to grant our pardon. LUCRETIA Child, perhaps It will be granted. We may all then live To make these woes a tale for distant years. Oh, what a thought! It gushes to my heart Like the warm blood. BEATRICE Yet both will soon be cold. Oh, trample out that thought! Worse than despair, Worse than the bitterness of death, is hope; It is the only ill which can find place Upon the giddy, sharp, and narrow hour Tottering beneath us. Plead with the swift frost That it should spare the eldest flower of spring; Plead with awakening earthquake, o'er whose couch Even now a city stands, strong, fair, and free; Now stench and blackness yawn, like death. Oh, plead With famine, or wind-walking pestilence, Blind lightning, or the deaf sea, not with man -- Cruel, cold, formal man; righteous in words, In deeds a Cain. No, mother, we must die; Since such is the reward of innocent lives, Such the alleviation of worst wrongs. And whilst our murderers live, and hard, cold men, Smiling and slow, walk through a world of tears To death as to life's sleep; 't were just the grave Were some strange joy for us. Come, obscure Death, And wind me in thine all-embracing arms! Like a fond mother hide me in thy bosom, And rock me to the sleep from which none wake. Live ye, who live, subject to one another As we were once, who now -- BERNARDO rushes in BERNARDO Oh, horrible! That tears, that looks, that hope poured forth in prayer, Even till the heart is vacant and despairs, Should all be vain! The ministers of death Are waiting round the doors. I thought I saw Blood on the face of one -- what if 't were fancy? Soon the heart's blood of all I love on earth Will sprinkle him, and he will wipe it off As if 't were only rain. O life! O world! Cover me! let me be no more! To see That perfect mirror of pure innocence Wherein I gazed, and grew happy and good, Shivered to dust! To see thee, Beatrice, Who made all lovely thou didst look upon -- Thee, light of life -- dead, dark! while I say, sister, To hear I have no sister; and thou, mother, Whose love was as a bond to all our loves -- Dead! the sweet bond broken! Enter CAMILLO and Guards They come! Let me Kiss those warm lips before their crimson leaves Are blighted -- white -- cold. Say farewell, before Death chokes that gentle voice! Oh, let me hear You speak! BEATRICE Farewell, my tender brother. Think Of our sad fate with gentleness, as now; And let mild, pitying thoughts lighten for thee Thy sorrow's load. Err not in harsh despair, But tears and patience. One thing more, my child; For thine own sake be constant to the love Thou bearest us; and to the faith that I, Though wrapped in a strange cloud of crime and shame, Lived ever holy and unstained. And though Ill tongues shall wound me, and our common name Be as a mark stamped on thine innocent brow For men to point at as they pass, do thou Forbear, and never think a thought unkind Of those who perhaps love thee in their graves. So mayest thou die as I do; fear and pain Being subdued. Farewell! Farewell! Farewell! BERNARDO I cannot say farewell! CAMILLO O Lady Beatrice! BEATRICE Give yourself no unnecessary pain, My dear Lord Cardinal. Here, mother, tie My girdle for me, and bind up this hair In any simple knot; ay, that does well. And yours I see is coming down. How often Have we done this for one another; now We shall not do it any more. My Lord, We are quite ready. Well -- 't is very well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...1851: A MESSAGE TO DENMARK HILL by RICHARD HOWARD TONIGHT THE HEART-SHAPED LEAVES by JAN HELLER LEVI JEWISH GRAVEYARDS, ITALY by PHILIP LEVINE SAILING HOME FROM RAPALLO by ROBERT LOWELL SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW by LISEL MUELLER HOW DUKE VALENTINE CONTRIVED by BASIL BUNTING FRAGMENTS FROM ITALY: 1 by JOHN CIARDI A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ADONAIS; AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN KEATS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |
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