| |
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 | 5 |
| 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 to-night, | 10 |
| Which is, I know, a hell of angry dreams, | |
| It were not well; indeed it were not well. | |
| Wait till day break
(aside) O, I am deadly sick! | |
| Savella. I grieve thus to distress you, but the Count | |
| Must answer charges of the gravest import, | 15 |
| And suddenly; such my commission is. | |
| Lucretia (with increased agitation). I dare not rouse him: | |
| I know none who dare
| |
| Twere perilous;
you might as safely waken | |
| A serpent; or a corpse in which some fiend | 20 |
| Were laid to sleep. | |
| Savella. Lady, moments here | |
| Are counted. I must rouse him from his sleep, | |
| Since none else dare. | |
| Lucretia (aside). O, terror! O, despair! | 25 |
| (To BERNARDO.) Bernardo, conduct you the Lord Legate to | |
| Your fathers chamber. [Exeunt SAVELLA and BERNARDO. | |
| |
Enter BEATRICE | |
| Beatrice. Tis a messenger | |
| Come to arrest the culprit who now stands | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| The Legates 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; | 40 |
| Now they suspect the truth; now they consult | |
| Before they come to tax us with the fact; | |
| O, horrible, tis all discovered! | |
| Beatrice. Mother, | |
| What is done wisely, is done well. Be bold | 45 |
| As thou art just. Tis 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, | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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 worlds centre. Consequence, to me, | 60 |
| Is as the wind which strikes the solid rock | |
| 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; | 65 |
| Look to the gates that none escape! | |
| Beatrice. What now? | |
| Bernardo. I know not what to say
my fathers dead. | |
| Beatrice. How; dead! he only sleeps; you mistake, brother. | |
| His sleep is very calm, very like death; | 70 |
| Tis 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; | 75 |
| 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. | 80 |
| 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! | 85 |
| 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. Tis strange! There were clear marks of violence. | |
| I found the old mans body in the moonlight | 90 |
| 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; tis true there was no blood
| |
| Favour me, Sir; it much imports your house | 95 |
| 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 | 100 |
| 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 | 105 |
| 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. | 110 |
| 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 brothers 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? | 115 |
| 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 | |
| Orsinos hand! It speaks of that strange horror | 120 |
| 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 | 125 |
| Such outrages as to awaken in thee | |
| Unfilial hate? | |
| Beatrice. Not hate, twas more than hate: | |
| This is most true, yet wherefore question me? | |
| Savella. There is a deed demanding question done; | 130 |
| 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 Popes Holiness. You must to Rome. | |
| Lucretia. O, not to Rome, Indeed we are not guilty. | 135 |
| 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, | 140 |
| 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 | 145 |
| To the redress of an unwonted crime, | |
| Make ye the victims who demanded it | |
| Culprits? Tis ye are culprits! That poor wretch | |
| Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed, | |
| If it be true he murdered Cenci, was | 150 |
| 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 | 155 |
| 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. | |
| Tis true I did believe, and hope, and pray, | 160 |
| Ay, I even knew
for God is wise and just, | |
| That some strange sudden death hung over him. | |
| Tis 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? | 165 |
| 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 | 170 |
| Of accusation kills an innocent name, | |
| And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life | |
| Which is a mask without it. Tis most false | |
| That I am guilty of foul parricide; | |
| Although I must rejoice, for justest cause, | 175 |
| That other hands have sent my fathers 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 | 180 |
| 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 Popes further pleasure will be known. | 185 |
| Lucretia. O, not to Rome! O, 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 | 190 |
| 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 | 195 |
| 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! | 200 |
| Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio? | |
| All present; all confronted; all demanding | |
| Each from the others countenance the thing | |
| Which is in every heart! O, misery! [She faints, and is borne out. | |
| Savella. She faints: an ill appearance, this. | 205 |
| 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. | 210 |
| 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, | 215 |
| 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. | |
| |