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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/875-0.txt b/875-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6b342d --- /dev/null +++ b/875-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5875 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Duchess of Padua, by Oscar Wilde + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Duchess of Padua + A Play + + +Author: Oscar Wilde + + + +Release Date: October 26, 2014 [eBook #875] +[This file was first posted on April 9, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUCHESS OF PADUA*** + + +Transcribed from the 1916 Methuen and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + THE + DUCHESS OF PADUA + + + A PLAY + + BY + OSCAR WILDE + + * * * * * + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + _Fifth Edition_ + + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua + +Beatrice, his Wife + +Andreas Pollajuolo, Cardinal of Padua + +Maffio Petrucci, Jeppo Vitellozzo, Taddeo Bardi } Gentlemen of the Duke’s +Household + +Guido Ferranti, a Young Man + +Ascanio Cristofano, his Friend + +Count Moranzone, an Old Man + +Bernardo Cavalcanti, Lord Justice of Padua + +Hugo, the Headsman + +Lucy, a Tire woman + +Servants, Citizens, Soldiers, Monks, Falconers with their hawks and dogs, +etc. + + * * * * * + +PLACE: _Padua_ + +TIME: _The latter half of the Sixteenth Century_ + + + + +THE SCENES OF THE PLAY + +ACT I. _The Market Place of Padua_ (25 _minutes_). +ACT II. _Room in the Duke’s Palace_ (36 _minutes_). +ACT III. _Corridor in the Duke’s Palace_ (29 + _minutes_). +ACT IV. _The Hall of Justice_ (31 _minutes_). +ACT V. _The Dungeon_ (25 _minutes_). + + _Style of Architecture_: Italian, Gothic and Romanesque. + + + + +ACT I + + + SCENE + +_The Market Place of Padua at noon_; _in the background is the great +Cathedral of Padua_; _the architecture is Romanesque_, _and wrought in +black and white marbles_; _a flight of marble steps leads up to the +Cathedral door_; _at the foot of the steps are two large stone lions_; +_the houses on each aide of the stage have coloured awnings from their +windows_, _and are flanked by stone arcades_; _on the right of the stage +is the public fountain_, _with a triton in green bronze blowing from a +conch_; _around the fountain is a stone seat_; _the bell of the Cathedral +is ringing_, _and the citizens_, _men_, _women and children_, _are +passing into the Cathedral_. + +[_Enter_ GUIDO FERRANTI _and_ ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.] + + Now by my life, Guido, I will go no farther; for if I walk another + step I will have no life left to swear by; this wild-goose errand of + yours! + + [_Sits down on the step of the fountain_.] + +GUIDO + + I think it must be here. [_Goes up to passer-by and doffs his cap_.] + Pray, sir, is this the market place, and that the church of Santa + Croce? [_Citizen bows_.] I thank you, sir. + +ASCANIO + + Well? + +GUIDO + + Ay! it is here. + +ASCANIO + + I would it were somewhere else, for I see no wine-shop. + +GUIDO + + [_Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it_.] ‘The hour noon; + the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint Philip’s + Day.’ + +ASCANIO + + And what of the man, how shall we know him? + +GUIDO [_reading still_] + + ‘I will wear a violet cloak with a silver falcon broidered on the + shoulder.’ A brave attire, Ascanio. + +ASCANIO + + I’d sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you of + your father? + +GUIDO + + Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the vineyard, + just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used to get in, a + man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave me this letter, + signed ‘Your Father’s Friend,’ bidding me be here to-day if I would + know the secret of my birth, and telling me how to recognise the + writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my uncle, but he told me + that he was not, but that I had been left a child in his charge by + some one he had never since seen. + +ASCANIO + + And you don’t know who your father is? + +GUIDO + + No. + +ASCANIO + + No recollection of him even? + +GUIDO + + None, Ascanio, none. + +ASCANIO [_laughing_] + + Then he could never have boxed your ears so often as my father did + mine. + +GUIDO [_smiling_] + + I am sure you never deserved it. + +ASCANIO + + Never; and that made it worse. I hadn’t the consciousness of guilt to + buoy me up. What hour did you say he fixed? + +GUIDO + + Noon. + + [_Clock in the Cathedral strikes_.] + +ASCANIO + + It is that now, and your man has not come. I don’t believe in him, + Guido. I think it is some wench who has set her eye at you; and, as I + have followed you from Perugia to Padua, I swear you shall follow me + to the nearest tavern. [_Rises_.] By the great gods of eating, + Guido, I am as hungry as a widow is for a husband, as tired as a young + maid is of good advice, and as dry as a monk’s sermon. Come, Guido, + you stand there looking at nothing, like the fool who tried to look + into his own mind; your man will not come. + +GUIDO + + Well, I suppose you are right. Ah! [_Just as he is leaving the stage + with_ ASCANIO, _enter_ LORD MORANZONE _in a violet cloak_, _with a + silver falcon broidered on the shoulder_; _he passes across to the + Cathedral_, _and just as he is going in_ GUIDO _runs up and touches + him_.] + +MORANZONE + + Guido Ferranti, thou hast come in time. + +GUIDO + + What! Does my father live? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! lives in thee. + Thou art the same in mould and lineament, + Carriage and form, and outward semblances; + I trust thou art in noble mind the same. + +GUIDO + + Oh, tell me of my father; I have lived + But for this moment. + +MORANZONE + + We must be alone. + +GUIDO + + This is my dearest friend, who out of love + Has followed me to Padua; as two brothers, + There is no secret which we do not share. + +MORANZONE + + There is one secret which ye shall not share; + Bid him go hence. + +GUIDO [_to_ ASCANIO] + + Come back within the hour. + He does not know that nothing in this world + Can dim the perfect mirror of our love. + Within the hour come. + +ASCANIO + + Speak not to him, + There is a dreadful terror in his look. + +GUIDO [_laughing_] + + Nay, nay, I doubt not that he has come to tell + That I am some great Lord of Italy, + And we will have long days of joy together. + Within the hour, dear Ascanio. + + [_Exit_ ASCANIO.] + + Now tell me of my father? [_Sits down on a stone seat_.] + Stood he tall? + I warrant he looked tall upon his horse. + His hair was black? or perhaps a reddish gold, + Like a red fire of gold? Was his voice low? + The very bravest men have voices sometimes + Full of low music; or a clarion was it + That brake with terror all his enemies? + Did he ride singly? or with many squires + And valiant gentlemen to serve his state? + For oftentimes methinks I feel my veins + Beat with the blood of kings. Was he a king? + +MORANZONE + + Ay, of all men he was the kingliest. + +GUIDO [_proudly_] + + Then when you saw my noble father last + He was set high above the heads of men? + +MORANZONE + + Ay, he was high above the heads of men, + +[_Walks over to_ GUIDO _and puts his hand upon his shoulder_.] + + On a red scaffold, with a butcher’s block + Set for his neck. + +GUIDO [_leaping up_] + + What dreadful man art thou, + That like a raven, or the midnight owl, + Com’st with this awful message from the grave? + +MORANZONE + + I am known here as the Count Moranzone, + Lord of a barren castle on a rock, + With a few acres of unkindly land + And six not thrifty servants. But I was one + Of Parma’s noblest princes; more than that, + I was your father’s friend. + +GUIDO [_clasping his hand_] + + Tell me of him. + +MORANZONE + + You are the son of that great Duke Lorenzo, + He was the Prince of Parma, and the Duke + Of all the fair domains of Lombardy + Down to the gates of Florence; nay, Florence even + Was wont to pay him tribute— + +GUIDO + + Come to his death. + +MORANZONE + + You will hear that soon enough. Being at war— + O noble lion of war, that would not suffer + Injustice done in Italy!—he led + The very flower of chivalry against + That foul adulterous Lord of Rimini, + Giovanni Malatesta—whom God curse! + And was by him in treacherous ambush taken, + And like a villain, or a low-born knave, + Was by him on the public scaffold murdered. + +GUIDO [_clutching his dagger_] + + Doth Malatesta live? + +MORANZONE + + No, he is dead. + +GUIDO + + Did you say dead? O too swift runner, Death, + Couldst thou not wait for me a little space, + And I had done thy bidding! + +MORANZONE [_clutching his wrist_] + + Thou canst do it! + The man who sold thy father is alive. + +GUIDO + + Sold! was my father sold? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! trafficked for, + Like a vile chattel, for a price betrayed, + Bartered and bargained for in privy market + By one whom he had held his perfect friend, + One he had trusted, one he had well loved, + One whom by ties of kindness he had bound— + +GUIDO + + And he lives + Who sold my father? + +MORANZONE + + I will bring you to him. + +GUIDO + + So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will make + This world thy field of blood, so buy it straight-way, + For thou must hang there. + +MORANZONE + + Judas said you, boy? + Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still + He was more wise than Judas was, and held + Those thirty silver pieces not enough. + +GUIDO + + What got he for my father’s blood? + +MORANZONE + + What got he? + Why cities, fiefs, and principalities, + Vineyards, and lands. + +GUIDO + + Of which he shall but keep + Six feet of ground to rot in. Where is he, + This damned villain, this foul devil? where? + Show me the man, and come he cased in steel, + In complete panoply and pride of war, + Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms, + Yet I shall reach him through their spears, and feel + The last black drop of blood from his black heart + Crawl down my blade. Show me the man, I say, + And I will kill him. + +MORANZONE [_coldly_] + + Fool, what revenge is there? + Death is the common heritage of all, + And death comes best when it comes suddenly. + + [_Goes up close to_ GUIDO.] + + Your father was betrayed, there is your cue; + For you shall sell the seller in his turn. + I will make you of his household, you shall sit + At the same board with him, eat of his bread— + +GUIDO + + O bitter bread! + +MORANZONE + + Thy palate is too nice, + Revenge will make it sweet. Thou shalt o’ nights + Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and be + His intimate, so he will fawn on thee, + Love thee, and trust thee in all secret things. + If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh, + And if it be his humour to be sad + Thou shalt don sables. Then when the time is ripe— + + [GUIDO _clutches his sword_.] + + Nay, nay, I trust thee not; your hot young blood, + Undisciplined nature, and too violent rage + Will never tarry for this great revenge, + But wreck itself on passion. + +GUIDO + + Thou knowest me not. + Tell me the man, and I in everything + Will do thy bidding. + +MORANZONE + + Well, when the time is ripe, + The victim trusting and the occasion sure, + I will by sudden secret messenger + Send thee a sign. + +GUIDO + + How shall I kill him, tell me? + +MORANZONE + + That night thou shalt creep into his private chamber; + But if he sleep see that thou wake him first, + And hold thy hand upon his throat, ay! that way, + Then having told him of what blood thou art, + Sprung from what father, and for what revenge, + Bid him to pray for mercy; when he prays, + Bid him to set a price upon his life, + And when he strips himself of all his gold + Tell him thou needest not gold, and hast not mercy, + And do thy business straight away. Swear to me + Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it, + Or else I go to mine own house, and leave + Thee ignorant, and thy father unavenged. + +GUIDO + + Now by my father’s sword— + +MORANZONE + + The common hangman + Brake that in sunder in the public square. + +GUIDO + + Then by my father’s grave— + +MORANZONE + + What grave? what grave? + Your noble father lieth in no grave, + I saw his dust strewn on the air, his ashes + Whirled through the windy streets like common straws + To plague a beggar’s eyesight, and his head, + That gentle head, set on the prison spike, + For the vile rabble in their insolence + To shoot their tongues at. + +GUIDO + + Was it so indeed? + Then by my father’s spotless memory, + And by the shameful manner of his death, + And by the base betrayal by his friend, + For these at least remain, by these I swear + I will not lay my hand upon his life + Until you bid me, then—God help his soul, + For he shall die as never dog died yet. + And now, the sign, what is it? + +MORANZONE + + This dagger, boy; + It was your father’s. + +GUIDO + + Oh, let me look at it! + I do remember now my reputed uncle, + That good old husbandman I left at home, + Told me a cloak wrapped round me when a babe + Bare too such yellow leopards wrought in gold; + I like them best in steel, as they are here, + They suit my purpose better. Tell me, sir, + Have you no message from my father to me? + +MORANZONE + + Poor boy, you never saw that noble father, + For when by his false friend he had been sold, + Alone of all his gentlemen I escaped + To bear the news to Parma to the Duchess. + +GUIDO + + Speak to me of my mother. + +MORANZONE + + When thy mother + Heard my black news, she fell into a swoon, + And, being with untimely travail seized— + Bare thee into the world before thy time, + And then her soul went heavenward, to wait + Thy father, at the gates of Paradise. + +GUIDO + + A mother dead, a father sold and bartered! + I seem to stand on some beleaguered wall, + And messenger comes after messenger + With a new tale of terror; give me breath, + Mine ears are tired. + +MORANZONE + + When thy mother died, + Fearing our enemies, I gave it out + Thou wert dead also, and then privily + Conveyed thee to an ancient servitor, + Who by Perugia lived; the rest thou knowest. + +GUIDO + + Saw you my father afterwards? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! once; + In mean attire, like a vineyard dresser, + I stole to Rimini. + +GUIDO [_taking his hand_] + + O generous heart! + +MORANZONE + + One can buy everything in Rimini, + And so I bought the gaolers! when your father + Heard that a man child had been born to him, + His noble face lit up beneath his helm + Like a great fire seen far out at sea, + And taking my two hands, he bade me, Guido, + To rear you worthy of him; so I have reared you + To revenge his death upon the friend who sold him. + +GUIDO + + Thou hast done well; I for my father thank thee. + And now his name? + +MORANZONE + + How you remind me of him, + You have each gesture that your father had. + +GUIDO + + The traitor’s name? + +MORANZONE + + Thou wilt hear that anon; + The Duke and other nobles at the Court + Are coming hither. + +GUIDO + + What of that? his name? + +MORANZONE + + Do they not seem a valiant company + Of honourable, honest gentlemen? + +GUIDO + + His name, milord? + +[_Enter the_ DUKE OF PADUA _with_ COUNT BARDI, MAFFIO, PETRUCCI, _and +other gentlemen of his Court_.] + +MORANZONE [_quickly_] + + The man to whom I kneel + Is he who sold your father! mark me well. + +GUIDO [_clutches hit dagger_] + + The Duke! + +MORANZONE + + Leave off that fingering of thy knife. + Hast thou so soon forgotten? [_Kneels to the_ DUKE.] + My noble Lord. + +DUKE + + Welcome, Count Moranzone; ’tis some time + Since we have seen you here in Padua. + We hunted near your castle yesterday— + Call you it castle? that bleak house of yours + Wherein you sit a-mumbling o’er your beads, + Telling your vices like a good old man. + + [_Catches sight of_ GUIDO _and starts back_.] + + Who is that? + +MORANZONE + + My sister’s son, your Grace, + Who being now of age to carry arms, + Would for a season tarry at your Court + +DUKE [_still looking at_ GUIDO] + + What is his name? + +MORANZONE + + Guido Ferranti, sir. + +DUKE + + His city? + +MORANZONE + + He is Mantuan by birth. + +DUKE [_advancing towards_ GUIDO] + + You have the eyes of one I used to know, + But he died childless. Are you honest, boy? + Then be not spendthrift of your honesty, + But keep it to yourself; in Padua + Men think that honesty is ostentatious, so + It is not of the fashion. Look at these lords. + +COUNT BARDI [_aside_] + + Here is some bitter arrow for us, sure. + +DUKE + + Why, every man among them has his price, + Although, to do them justice, some of them + Are quite expensive. + +COUNT BARDI [_aside_] + + There it comes indeed. + +DUKE + + So be not honest; eccentricity + Is not a thing should ever be encouraged, + Although, in this dull stupid age of ours, + The most eccentric thing a man can do + Is to have brains, then the mob mocks at him; + And for the mob, despise it as I do, + I hold its bubble praise and windy favours + In such account, that popularity + Is the one insult I have never suffered. + +MAFFIO [_aside_] + + He has enough of hate, if he needs that. + +DUKE + + Have prudence; in your dealings with the world + Be not too hasty; act on the second thought, + First impulses are generally good. + +GUIDO [_aside_] + + Surely a toad sits on his lips, and spills its venom there. + +DUKE + + See thou hast enemies, + Else will the world think very little of thee; + It is its test of power; yet see thou show’st + A smiling mask of friendship to all men, + Until thou hast them safely in thy grip, + Then thou canst crush them. + +GUIDO [_aside_] + + O wise philosopher! + That for thyself dost dig so deep a grave. + +MORANZONE [_to him_] + + Dost thou mark his words? + +GUIDO + + Oh, be thou sure I do. + +DUKE + + And be not over-scrupulous; clean hands + With nothing in them make a sorry show. + If you would have the lion’s share of life + You must wear the fox’s skin. Oh, it will fit you; + It is a coat which fitteth every man. + +GUIDO + + Your Grace, I shall remember. + +DUKE + + That is well, boy, well. + I would not have about me shallow fools, + Who with mean scruples weigh the gold of life, + And faltering, paltering, end by failure; failure, + The only crime which I have not committed: + I would have _men_ about me. As for conscience, + Conscience is but the name which cowardice + Fleeing from battle scrawls upon its shield. + You understand me, boy? + +GUIDO + + I do, your Grace, + And will in all things carry out the creed + Which you have taught me. + +MAFFIO + + I never heard your Grace + So much in the vein for preaching; let the Cardinal + Look to his laurels, sir. + +DUKE + + The Cardinal! + Men follow my creed, and they gabble his. + I do not think much of the Cardinal; + Although he is a holy churchman, and + I quite admit his dulness. Well, sir, from now + We count you of our household + +[_He holds out his hand for_ GUIDO _to kiss_. GUIDO _starts back in +horror_, _but at a gesture from_ COUNT MORANZONE, _kneels and kisses +it_.] + + We will see + That you are furnished with such equipage + As doth befit your honour and our state. + +GUIDO + + I thank your Grace most heartily. + +DUKE + + Tell me again + What is your name? + +GUIDO + + Guido Ferranti, sir. + +DUKE + + And you are Mantuan? Look to your wives, my lords, + When such a gallant comes to Padua. + Thou dost well to laugh, Count Bardi; I have noted + How merry is that husband by whose hearth + Sits an uncomely wife. + +MAFFIO + + May it please your Grace, + The wives of Padua are above suspicion. + +DUKE + + What, are they so ill-favoured! Let us go, + This Cardinal detains our pious Duchess; + His sermon and his beard want cutting both: + Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text + From holy Jerome? + +MORANZONE [_bowing_] + + My liege, there are some matters— + +DUKE [_interrupting_] + + Thou need’st make no excuse for missing mass. + Come, gentlemen. + + [_Exit with his suite into Cathedral_.] + +GUIDO [_after a pause_] + + So the Duke sold my father; + I kissed his hand. + +MORANZONE + + Thou shalt do that many times. + +GUIDO + + Must it be so? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! thou hast sworn an oath. + +GUIDO + + That oath shall make me marble. + +MORANZONE + + Farewell, boy, + Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe. + +GUIDO + + I pray thou comest quickly. + +MORANZONE + + I will come + When it is time; be ready. + +GUIDO + + Fear me not. + +MORANZONE + + Here is your friend; see that you banish him + Both from your heart and Padua. + +GUIDO + + From Padua, + Not from my heart. + +MORANZONE + + Nay, from thy heart as well, + I will not leave thee till I see thee do it. + +GUIDO + + Can I have no friend? + +MORANZONE + + Revenge shall be thy friend; + Thou need’st no other. + +GUIDO + + Well, then be it so. + + [_Enter_ ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.] + +ASCANIO + + Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in everything, for I have + drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and kissed the maid who served + it. Why, you look as melancholy as a schoolboy who cannot buy apples, + or a politician who cannot sell his vote. What news, Guido, what + news? + +GUIDO + + Why, that we two must part, Ascanio. + +ASCANIO + + That would be news indeed, but it is not true. + +GUIDO + + Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio, + And never look upon my face again. + +ASCANIO + + No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido; + ’Tis true I am a common yeoman’s son, + Nor versed in fashions of much courtesy; + But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be + Your serving man? I will tend you with more love + Than any hired servant. + +GUIDO [_clasping his hand_] + + Ascanio! + + [_Sees_ MORANZONE _looking at him and drops_ ASCANIO’S _hand_.] + + It cannot be. + +ASCANIO + + What, is it so with you? + I thought the friendship of the antique world + Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type + Might even in this poor and common age + Find counterparts of love; then by this love + Which beats between us like a summer sea, + Whatever lot has fallen to your hand + May I not share it? + +GUIDO + + Share it? + +ASCANIO + + Ay! + +GUIDO + + No, no. + +ASCANIO + + Have you then come to some inheritance + Of lordly castle, or of stored-up gold? + +GUIDO [_bitterly_] + + Ay! I have come to my inheritance. + O bloody legacy! and O murderous dole! + Which, like the thrifty miser, must I hoard, + And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you, + Let us part here. + +ASCANIO + + What, shall we never more + Sit hand in hand, as we were wont to sit, + Over some book of ancient chivalry + Stealing a truant holiday from school, + Follow the huntsmen through the autumn woods, + And watch the falcons burst their tasselled jesses, + When the hare breaks from covert. + +GUIDO + + Never more. + +ASCANIO + + Must I go hence without a word of love? + +GUIDO + + You must go hence, and may love go with you. + +ASCANIO + + You are unknightly, and ungenerous. + +GUIDO + + Unknightly and ungenerous if you will. + Why should we waste more words about the matter + Let us part now. + +ASCANIO + + Have you no message, Guido? + +GUIDO + + None; my whole past was but a schoolboy’s dream; + To-day my life begins. Farewell. + +ASCANIO + + Farewell [_exit slowly_.] + +GUIDO + + Now are you satisfied? Have you not seen + My dearest friend, and my most loved companion, + Thrust from me like a common kitchen knave! + Oh, that I did it! Are you not satisfied? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! I am satisfied. Now I go hence, + Do not forget the sign, your father’s dagger, + And do the business when I send it to you. + +GUIDO + + Be sure I shall. [_Exit_ LORD MORANZONE.] + +GUIDO + + O thou eternal heaven! + If there is aught of nature in my soul, + Of gentle pity, or fond kindliness, + Wither it up, blast it, bring it to nothing, + Or if thou wilt not, then will I myself + Cut pity with a sharp knife from my heart + And strangle mercy in her sleep at night + Lest she speak to me. Vengeance there I have it. + Be thou my comrade and my bedfellow, + Sit by my side, ride to the chase with me, + When I am weary sing me pretty songs, + When I am light o’ heart, make jest with me, + And when I dream, whisper into my ear + The dreadful secret of a father’s murder— + Did I say murder? [_Draws his dagger_.] + Listen, thou terrible God! + Thou God that punishest all broken oaths, + And bid some angel write this oath in fire, + That from this hour, till my dear father’s murder + In blood I have revenged, I do forswear + The noble ties of honourable friendship, + The noble joys of dear companionship, + Affection’s bonds, and loyal gratitude, + Ay, more, from this same hour I do forswear + All love of women, and the barren thing + Which men call beauty— + +[_The organ peals in the Cathedral_, _and under a canopy of cloth of +silver tissue_, _borne by four pages in scarlet_, _the_ DUCHESS OF PADUA +_comes down the steps_; _as she passes across their eyes meet for a +moment_, _and as she leaves the stage she looks back at_ GUIDO, _and the +dagger falls from his hand_.] + + Oh! who is that? + +A CITIZEN + + The Duchess of Padua! + + * * * * * + + END OF ACT I. + + * * * * * + + + + +ACT II + + + SCENE + +_A state room in the Ducal Palace_, _hung with tapestries representing +the Masque of Venus_; _a large door in the centre opens into a corridor +of red marble_, _through which one can see a view of Padua_; _a large +canopy is set_ (_R.C._) _with three thrones_, _one a little lower than +the others_; _the ceiling is made of long gilded beams_; _furniture of +the period_, _chairs covered with gilt leather_, _and buffets set with +gold and silver plate_, _and chests painted with mythological scenes_. +_A number of the courtiers is out on the corridor looking from it down +into the street below_; _from the street comes the roar of a mob and +cries of_ ‘_Death to the Duke_’: _after a little interval enter the Duke +very calmly_; _he is leaning on the arm of Guido Ferranti_; _with him +enters also the Lord Cardinal_; _the mob still shouting_. + +DUKE + + No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her! + Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good. + +MAFFIO [_excitedly_] + + Your Grace, there are two thousand people there + Who every moment grow more clamorous. + +DUKE + + Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs! + People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing; + The only men I fear are silent men. + + [_A yell from the people_.] + + You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love me. + + [_Another yell_.] + + Go, Petrucci, + And tell the captain of the guard below + To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir? + Do what I bid you. + + [_Exit_ PETRUCCI.] + +CARDINAL + + I beseech your Grace + To listen to their grievances. + +DUKE [_sitting on his throne_] + + Ay! the peaches + Are not so big this year as they were last. + I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal, + I thought you spake of peaches. + + [_A cheer from the people_.] + + What is that? + +GUIDO [_rushes to the window_] + + The Duchess has gone forth into the square, + And stands between the people and the guard, + And will not let them shoot. + +DUKE + + The devil take her! + +GUIDO [_still at the window_] + + And followed by a dozen of the citizens + Has come into the Palace. + +DUKE [_starting up_] + + By Saint James, + Our Duchess waxes bold! + +BARDI + + Here comes the Duchess. + +DUKE + + Shut that door there; this morning air is cold. + + [_They close the door on the corridor_.] + +[_Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed Citizens_.] + +DUCHESS [_flinging herself upon her knees_] + + I do beseech your Grace to give us audience. + +DUKE + + What are these grievances? + +DUCHESS + + Alas, my Lord, + Such common things as neither you nor I, + Nor any of these noble gentlemen, + Have ever need at all to think about; + They say the bread, the very bread they eat, + Is made of sorry chaff. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Ay! so it is, + Nothing but chaff. + +DUKE + + And very good food too, + I give it to my horses. + +DUCHESS [_restraining herself_] + + They say the water, + Set in the public cisterns for their use, + [Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,] + To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned. + +DUKE + + They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs + Take at the city gate are grown so high + We cannot buy wine. + +DUKE + + Then you should bless the taxes + + Which make you temperate. + +DUCHESS + + Think, while we sit + In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty + Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives + Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily + And no word said. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Ay! marry, that is true, + My little son died yesternight from hunger; + He was but six years old; I am so poor, + I cannot bury him. + +DUKE + + If you are poor, + Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty + Is one of the Christian virtues, + + [_Turns to the_ CARDINAL.] + + Is it not? + I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues, + Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates + For preaching voluntary poverty. + +DUCHESS + + Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous; + While we sit here within a noble house + [With shaded porticoes against the sun, + And walls and roofs to keep the winter out], + There are many citizens of Padua + Who in vile tenements live so full of holes, + That the chill rain, the snow, and the rude blast, + Are tenants also with them; others sleep + Under the arches of the public bridges + All through the autumn nights, till the wet mist + Stiffens their limbs, and fevers come, and so— + +DUKE + + And so they go to Abraham’s bosom, Madam. + They should thank me for sending them to Heaven, + If they are wretched here. [_To the_ CARDINAL.] + Is it not said + Somewhere in Holy Writ, that every man + Should be contented with that state of life + God calls him to? Why should I change their state, + Or meddle with an all-wise providence, + Which has apportioned that some men should starve, + And others surfeit? I did not make the world. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + He hath a hard heart. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Nay, be silent, neighbour; + I think the Cardinal will speak for us. + +CARDINAL + + True, it is Christian to bear misery, + Yet it is Christian also to be kind, + And there seem many evils in this town, + Which in your wisdom might your Grace reform. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + What is that word reform? What does it mean? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Marry, it means leaving things as they are; I like it not. + +DUKE + + Reform Lord Cardinal, did _you_ say reform? + There is a man in Germany called Luther, + Who would reform the Holy Catholic Church. + Have you not made him heretic, and uttered + Anathema, maranatha, against him? + +CARDINAL [_rising from his seat_] + + He would have led the sheep out of the fold, + We do but ask of you to feed the sheep. + +DUKE + + When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed them. + As for these rebels— [DUCHESS _entreats him_.] + +FIRST CITIZEN + + That is a kind word, + He means to give us something. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Is that so? + +DUKE + + These ragged knaves who come before us here, + With mouths chock-full of treason. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Good my Lord, + Fill up our mouths with bread; we’ll hold our tongues. + +DUKE + + Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve or not. + My lords, this age is so familiar grown, + That the low peasant hardly doffs his hat, + Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic + Elbows the noble in the public streets. + + [_To the Citizens_.] + + Still as our gentle Duchess has so prayed us, + And to refuse so beautiful a beggar + Were to lack both courtesy and love, + Touching your grievances, I promise this— + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Marry, he will lighten the taxes! + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Or a dole of bread, think you, for each man? + +DUKE + + That, on next Sunday, the Lord Cardinal + Shall, after Holy Mass, preach you a sermon + Upon the Beauty of Obedience. + + [_Citizens murmur_.] + +FIRST CITIZEN + + I’ faith, that will not fill our stomachs! + +SECOND CITIZEN + + A sermon is but a sorry sauce, when + You have nothing to eat with it. + +DUCHESS + + Poor people, + You see I have no power with the Duke, + But if you go into the court without, + My almoner shall from my private purse, + Divide a hundred ducats ’mongst you all. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + God save the Duchess, say I. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + God save her. + +DUCHESS + + And every Monday morn shall bread be set + For those who lack it. + + [_Citizens applaud and go out_.] + +FIRST CITIZEN [_going out_] + + Why, God save the Duchess again! + +DUKE [_calling him back_] + + Come hither, fellow! what is your name? + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Dominick, sir. + +DUKE + + A good name! Why were you called Dominick? + +FIRST CITIZEN [_scratching his head_] + + Marry, because I was born on St. George’s day. + +DUKE + + A good reason! here is a ducat for you! + Will you not cry for me God save the Duke? + +FIRST CITIZEN [_feebly_] + + God save the Duke. + +DUKE + + Nay! louder, fellow, louder. + +FIRST CITIZEN [_a little louder_] + + God save the Duke! + +DUKE + + More lustily, fellow, put more heart in it! + Here is another ducat for you. + +FIRST CITIZEN [_enthusiastically_] + + God save the Duke! + +DUKE [_mockingly_] + + Why, gentlemen, this simple fellow’s love + Touches me much. [_To the Citizen_, _harshly_.] + Go! [_Exit Citizen_, _bowing_.] + This is the way, my lords, + You can buy popularity nowadays. + Oh, we are nothing if not democratic! + + [_To the_ DUCHESS.] + + Well, Madam, + You spread rebellion ’midst our citizens. + +DUCHESS + + My Lord, the poor have rights you cannot touch, + The right to pity, and the right to mercy. + +DUKE + + So, so, you argue with me? This is she, + The gentle Duchess for whose hand I yielded + Three of the fairest towns in Italy, + Pisa, and Genoa, and Orvieto. + +DUCHESS + + Promised, my Lord, not yielded: in that matter + Brake you your word as ever. + +DUKE + + You wrong us, Madam, + There were state reasons. + +DUCHESS + + What state reasons are there + For breaking holy promises to a state? + +DUKE + + There are wild boars at Pisa in a forest + Close to the city: when I promised Pisa + Unto your noble and most trusting father, + I had forgotten there was hunting there. + At Genoa they say, + Indeed I doubt them not, that the red mullet + Runs larger in the harbour of that town + Than anywhere in Italy. + + [_Turning to one of the Court_.] + + You, my lord, + Whose gluttonous appetite is your only god, + Could satisfy our Duchess on that point. + +DUCHESS + + And Orvieto? + +DUKE [_yawning_] + + I cannot now recall + Why I did not surrender Orvieto + According to the word of my contract. + Maybe it was because I did not choose. + + [_Goes over to the_ DUCHESS.] + + Why look you, Madam, you are here alone; + ’Tis many a dusty league to your grey France, + And even there your father barely keeps + A hundred ragged squires for his Court. + What hope have you, I say? Which of these lords + And noble gentlemen of Padua + Stands by your side. + +DUCHESS + + There is not one. + + [GUIDO _starts_, _but restrains himself_.] + +DUKE + + Nor shall be, + While I am Duke in Padua: listen, Madam, + Being mine own, you shall do as I will, + And if it be my will you keep the house, + Why then, this palace shall your prison be; + And if it be my will you walk abroad, + Why, you shall take the air from morn to night. + +DUCHESS + + Sir, by what right—? + +DUKE + + Madam, my second Duchess + Asked the same question once: her monument + Lies in the chapel of Bartholomew, + Wrought in red marble; very beautiful. + Guido, your arm. Come, gentlemen, let us go + And spur our falcons for the mid-day chase. + Bethink you, Madam, you are here alone. + + [_Exit the_ DUKE _leaning on_ GUIDO, _with his Court_.] + +DUCHESS [_looking after them_] + + The Duke said rightly that I was alone; + Deserted, and dishonoured, and defamed, + Stood ever woman so alone indeed? + Men when they woo us call us pretty children, + Tell us we have not wit to make our lives, + And so they mar them for us. Did I say woo? + We are their chattels, and their common slaves, + Less dear than the poor hound that licks their hand, + Less fondled than the hawk upon their wrist. + Woo, did I say? bought rather, sold and bartered, + Our very bodies being merchandise. + I know it is the general lot of women, + Each miserably mated to some man + Wrecks her own life upon his selfishness: + That it is general makes it not less bitter. + I think I never heard a woman laugh, + Laugh for pure merriment, except one woman, + That was at night time, in the public streets. + Poor soul, she walked with painted lips, and wore + The mask of pleasure: I would not laugh like her; + No, death were better. + +[_Enter_ GUIDO _behind unobserved_; _the_ DUCHESS _flings herself down +before a picture of the Madonna_.] + + O Mary mother, with your sweet pale face + Bending between the little angel heads + That hover round you, have you no help for me? + Mother of God, have you no help for me? + +GUIDO + + I can endure no longer. + This is my love, and I will speak to her. + Lady, am I a stranger to your prayers? + +DUCHESS [_rising_] + + None but the wretched needs my prayers, my lord. + +GUIDO + + Then must I need them, lady. + +DUCHESS + + How is that? + Does not the Duke show thee sufficient honour? + +GUIDO + + Your Grace, I lack no favours from the Duke, + Whom my soul loathes as I loathe wickedness, + But come to proffer on my bended knees, + My loyal service to thee unto death. + +DUCHESS + + Alas! I am so fallen in estate + I can but give thee a poor meed of thanks. + +GUIDO [_seizing her hand_] + + Hast thou no love to give me? + + [_The_ DUCHESS _starts_, _and_ GUIDO _falls at her feet_.] + + O dear saint, + If I have been too daring, pardon me! + Thy beauty sets my boyish blood aflame, + And, when my reverent lips touch thy white hand, + Each little nerve with such wild passion thrills + That there is nothing which I would not do + To gain thy love. [_Leaps up_.] + Bid me reach forth and pluck + Perilous honour from the lion’s jaws, + And I will wrestle with the Nemean beast + On the bare desert! Fling to the cave of War + A gaud, a ribbon, a dead flower, something + That once has touched thee, and I’ll bring it back + Though all the hosts of Christendom were there, + Inviolate again! ay, more than this, + Set me to scale the pallid white-faced cliffs + Of mighty England, and from that arrogant shield + Will I raze out the lilies of your France + Which England, that sea-lion of the sea, + Hath taken from her! + O dear Beatrice, + Drive me not from thy presence! without thee + The heavy minutes crawl with feet of lead, + But, while I look upon thy loveliness, + The hours fly like winged Mercuries + And leave existence golden. + +DUCHESS + + I did not think + I should be ever loved: do you indeed + Love me so much as now you say you do? + +GUIDO + + Ask of the sea-bird if it loves the sea, + Ask of the roses if they love the rain, + Ask of the little lark, that will not sing + Till day break, if it loves to see the day:— + And yet, these are but empty images, + Mere shadows of my love, which is a fire + So great that all the waters of the main + Can not avail to quench it. Will you not speak? + +DUCHESS + + I hardly know what I should say to you. + +GUIDO + + Will you not say you love me? + +DUCHESS + + Is that my lesson? + Must I say all at once? ’Twere a good lesson + If I did love you, sir; but, if I do not, + What shall I say then? + +GUIDO + + If you do not love me, + Say, none the less, you do, for on your tongue + Falsehood for very shame would turn to truth. + +DUCHESS + + What if I do not speak at all? They say + Lovers are happiest when they are in doubt + +GUIDO + + Nay, doubt would kill me, and if I must die, + Why, let me die for joy and not for doubt. + Oh, tell me may I stay, or must I go? + +DUCHESS + + I would not have you either stay or go; + For if you stay you steal my love from me, + And if you go you take my love away. + Guido, though all the morning stars could sing + They could not tell the measure of my love. + I love you, Guido. + +GUIDO [_stretching out his hands_] + + Oh, do not cease at all; + I thought the nightingale sang but at night; + Or if thou needst must cease, then let my lips + Touch the sweet lips that can such music make. + +DUCHESS + + To touch my lips is not to touch my heart. + +GUIDO + + Do you close that against me? + +DUCHESS + + Alas! my lord, + I have it not: the first day that I saw you + I let you take my heart away from me; + Unwilling thief, that without meaning it + Did break into my fenced treasury + And filch my jewel from it! O strange theft, + Which made you richer though you knew it not, + And left me poorer, and yet glad of it! + +GUIDO [_clasping her in his arms_] + + O love, love, love! Nay, sweet, lift up your head, + Let me unlock those little scarlet doors + That shut in music, let me dive for coral + In your red lips, and I’ll bear back a prize + Richer than all the gold the Gryphon guards + In rude Armenia. + +DUCHESS + + You are my lord, + And what I have is yours, and what I have not + Your fancy lends me, like a prodigal + Spending its wealth on what is nothing worth. + + [_Kisses him_.] + +GUIDO + + Methinks I am bold to look upon you thus: + The gentle violet hides beneath its leaf + And is afraid to look at the great sun + For fear of too much splendour, but my eyes, + O daring eyes! are grown so venturous + That like fixed stars they stand, gazing at you, + And surfeit sense with beauty. + +DUCHESS + + Dear love, I would + You could look upon me ever, for your eyes + Are polished mirrors, and when I peer + Into those mirrors I can see myself, + And so I know my image lives in you. + +GUIDO [_taking her in his arms_] + + Stand still, thou hurrying orb in the high heavens, + And make this hour immortal! [_A pause_.] + +DUCHESS + + Sit down here, + A little lower than me: yes, just so, sweet, + That I may run my fingers through your hair, + And see your face turn upwards like a flower + To meet my kiss. + Have you not sometimes noted, + When we unlock some long-disuséd room + With heavy dust and soiling mildew filled, + Where never foot of man has come for years, + And from the windows take the rusty bar, + And fling the broken shutters to the air, + And let the bright sun in, how the good sun + Turns every grimy particle of dust + Into a little thing of dancing gold? + Guido, my heart is that long-empty room, + But you have let love in, and with its gold + Gilded all life. Do you not think that love + Fills up the sum of life? + +GUIDO + + Ay! without love + Life is no better than the unhewn stone + Which in the quarry lies, before the sculptor + Has set the God within it. Without love + Life is as silent as the common reeds + That through the marshes or by rivers grow, + And have no music in them. + +DUCHESS + + Yet out of these + The singer, who is Love, will make a pipe + And from them he draws music; so I think + Love will bring music out of any life. + Is that not true? + +GUIDO + + Sweet, women make it true. + There are men who paint pictures, and carve statues, + Paul of Verona and the dyer’s son, + Or their great rival, who, by the sea at Venice, + Has set God’s little maid upon the stair, + White as her own white lily, and as tall, + Or Raphael, whose Madonnas are divine + Because they are mothers merely; yet I think + Women are the best artists of the world, + For they can take the common lives of men + Soiled with the money-getting of our age, + And with love make them beautiful. + +DUCHESS + + Ah, dear, + I wish that you and I were very poor; + The poor, who love each other, are so rich. + +GUIDO + + Tell me again you love me, Beatrice. + +DUCHESS [_fingering his collar_] + + How well this collar lies about your throat. + + [LORD MORANZONE _looks through the door from the corridor outside_.] + +GUIDO + + Nay, tell me that you love me. + +DUCHESS + + I remember, + That when I was a child in my dear France, + Being at Court at Fontainebleau, the King + Wore such a collar. + +GUIDO + + Will you not say you love me? + +DUCHESS [_smiling_] + + He was a very royal man, King Francis, + Yet he was not royal as you are. + Why need I tell you, Guido, that I love you? + + [_Takes his head in her hands and turns his face up to her_.] + + Do you not know that I am yours for ever, + Body and soul? + + [_Kisses him_, _and then suddenly catches sight of_ MORANZONE _and leaps + up_.] + + Oh, what is that? [MORANZONE _disappears_.] + +GUIDO + + What, love? + +DUCHESS + + Methought I saw a face with eyes of flame + Look at us through the doorway. + +GUIDO + + Nay, ’twas nothing: + The passing shadow of the man on guard. + + [_The_ DUCHESS _still stands looking at the window_.] + + ’Twas nothing, sweet. + +DUCHESS + + Ay! what can harm us now, + Who are in Love’s hand? I do not think I’d care + Though the vile world should with its lackey Slander + Trample and tread upon my life; why should I? + They say the common field-flowers of the field + Have sweeter scent when they are trodden on + Than when they bloom alone, and that some herbs + Which have no perfume, on being bruiséd die + With all Arabia round them; so it is + With the young lives this dull world seeks to crush, + It does but bring the sweetness out of them, + And makes them lovelier often. And besides, + While we have love we have the best of life: + Is it not so? + +GUIDO + + Dear, shall we play or sing? + I think that I could sing now. + +DUCHESS + + Do not speak, + For there are times when all existences + Seem narrowed to one single ecstasy, + And Passion sets a seal upon the lips. + +GUIDO + + Oh, with mine own lips let me break that seal! + You love me, Beatrice? + +DUCHESS + + Ay! is it not strange + I should so love mine enemy? + +GUIDO + + Who is he? + +DUCHESS + + Why, you: that with your shaft did pierce my heart! + Poor heart, that lived its little lonely life + Until it met your arrow. + +GUIDO + + Ah, dear love, + I am so wounded by that bolt myself + That with untended wounds I lie a-dying, + Unless you cure me, dear Physician. + +DUCHESS + + I would not have you cured; for I am sick + With the same malady. + +GUIDO + + Oh, how I love you! + See, I must steal the cuckoo’s voice, and tell + The one tale over. + +DUCHESS + + Tell no other tale! + For, if that is the little cuckoo’s song, + The nightingale is hoarse, and the loud lark + Has lost its music. + +GUIDO + + Kiss me, Beatrice! + +[_She takes his face in her hands and bends down and kisses him_; _a loud +knocking then comes at the door_, _and_ GUIDO _leaps up_; _enter a +Servant_.] + +SERVANT + + A package for you, sir. + +GUIDO [_carelessly_] + + Ah! give it to me. + + [_Servant hands package wrapped in vermilion silk_, _and exit_; _as_ + GUIDO _is about to open it the_ DUCHESS _comes up behind_, _and in + sport takes it from him_.] + +DUCHESS [_laughing_] + + Now I will wager it is from some girl + Who would have you wear her favour; I am so jealous + I will not give up the least part in you, + But like a miser keep you to myself, + And spoil you perhaps in keeping. + +GUIDO + + It is nothing. + +DUCHESS + + Nay, it is from some girl. + +GUIDO + + You know ’tis not. + +DUCHESS [_turns her back and opens it_] + + Now, traitor, tell me what does this sign mean, + A dagger with two leopards wrought in steel? + +GUIDO [_taking it from her_] + + O God! + +DUCHESS + + I’ll from the window look, and try + If I can’t see the porter’s livery + Who left it at the gate! I will not rest + Till I have learned your secret. + + [_Runs laughing into the corridor_.] + +GUIDO + + Oh, horrible! + Had I so soon forgot my father’s death, + Did I so soon let love into my heart, + And must I banish love, and let in murder + That beats and clamours at the outer gate? + Ay, that I must! Have I not sworn an oath? + Yet not to-night; nay, it must be to-night. + Farewell then all the joy and light of life, + All dear recorded memories, farewell, + Farewell all love! Could I with bloody hands + Fondle and paddle with her innocent hands? + Could I with lips fresh from this butchery + Play with her lips? Could I with murderous eyes + Look in those violet eyes, whose purity + Would strike men blind, and make each eyeball reel + In night perpetual? No, murder has set + A barrier between us far too high + For us to kiss across it. + +DUCHESS + + Guido! + +GUIDO + + Beatrice, + You must forget that name, and banish me + Out of your life for ever. + +DUCHESS [_going towards him_] + + O dear love! + +GUIDO [_stepping back_] + + There lies a barrier between us two + We dare not pass. + +DUCHESS + + I dare do anything + So that you are beside me. + +GUIDO + + Ah! There it is, + I cannot be beside you, cannot breathe + The air you breathe; I cannot any more + Stand face to face with beauty, which unnerves + My shaking heart, and makes my desperate hand + Fail of its purpose. Let me go hence, I pray; + Forget you ever looked upon me. + +DUCHESS + + What! + With your hot kisses fresh upon my lips + Forget the vows of love you made to me? + +GUIDO + + I take them back. + +DUCHESS + + Alas, you cannot, Guido, + For they are part of nature now; the air + Is tremulous with their music, and outside + The little birds sing sweeter for those vows. + +GUIDO + + There lies a barrier between us now, + Which then I knew not, or I had forgot. + +DUCHESS + + There is no barrier, Guido; why, I will go + In poor attire, and will follow you + Over the world. + +GUIDO [_wildly_] + + The world’s not wide enough + To hold us two! Farewell, farewell for ever. + +DUCHESS [_calm_, _and controlling her passion_] + + Why did you come into my life at all, then, + Or in the desolate garden of my heart + Sow that white flower of love—? + +GUIDO + + O Beatrice! + +DUCHESS + + Which now you would dig up, uproot, tear out, + Though each small fibre doth so hold my heart + That if you break one, my heart breaks with it? + Why did you come into my life? Why open + The secret wells of love I had sealed up? + Why did you open them—? + +GUIDO + + O God! + +DUCHESS [_clenching her hand_] + + And let + The floodgates of my passion swell and burst + Till, like the wave when rivers overflow + That sweeps the forest and the farm away, + Love in the splendid avalanche of its might + Swept my life with it? Must I drop by drop + Gather these waters back and seal them up? + Alas! Each drop will be a tear, and so + Will with its saltness make life very bitter. + +GUIDO + + I pray you speak no more, for I must go + Forth from your life and love, and make a way + On which you cannot follow. + +DUCHESS + + I have heard + That sailors dying of thirst upon a raft, + Poor castaways upon a lonely sea, + Dream of green fields and pleasant water-courses, + And then wake up with red thirst in their throats, + And die more miserably because sleep + Has cheated them: so they die cursing sleep + For having sent them dreams: I will not curse you + Though I am cast away upon the sea + Which men call Desolation. + +GUIDO + + O God, God! + +DUCHESS + + But you will stay: listen, I love you, Guido. + + [_She waits a little_.] + + Is echo dead, that when I say I love you + There is no answer? + +GUIDO + + Everything is dead, + Save one thing only, which shall die to-night! + +DUCHESS + + If you are going, touch me not, but go. + + [_Exit_ GUIDO.] + + Barrier! Barrier! + Why did he say there was a barrier? + There is no barrier between us two. + He lied to me, and shall I for that reason + Loathe what I love, and what I worshipped, hate? + I think we women do not love like that. + For if I cut his image from my heart, + My heart would, like a bleeding pilgrim, follow + That image through the world, and call it back + With little cries of love. + + [_Enter_ DUKE _equipped for the chase_, _with falconers and hounds_.] + +DUKE + + Madam, you keep us waiting; + You keep my dogs waiting. + +DUCHESS + + I will not ride to-day. + +DUKE + + How now, what’s this? + +DUCHESS + + My Lord, I cannot go. + +DUKE + + What, pale face, do you dare to stand against me? + Why, I could set you on a sorry jade + And lead you through the town, till the low rabble + You feed toss up their hats and mock at you. + +DUCHESS + + Have you no word of kindness ever for me? + +DUKE + + I hold you in the hollow of my hand + And have no need on you to waste kind words. + +DUCHESS + + Well, I will go. + +DUKE [_slapping his boot with his whip_] + + No, I have changed my mind, + You will stay here, and like a faithful wife + Watch from the window for our coming back. + Were it not dreadful if some accident + By chance should happen to your loving Lord? + Come, gentlemen, my hounds begin to chafe, + And I chafe too, having a patient wife. + Where is young Guido? + +MAFFIO + + My liege, I have not seen him + For a full hour past. + +DUKE + + It matters not, + I dare say I shall see him soon enough. + Well, Madam, you will sit at home and spin. + I do protest, sirs, the domestic virtues + Are often very beautiful in others. + + [_Exit_ DUKE _with his Court_.] + +DUCHESS + + The stars have fought against me, that is all, + And thus to-night when my Lord lieth asleep, + Will I fall upon my dagger, and so cease. + My heart is such a stone nothing can reach it + Except the dagger’s edge: let it go there, + To find what name it carries: ay! to-night + Death will divorce the Duke; and yet to-night + He may die also, he is very old. + Why should he not die? Yesterday his hand + Shook with a palsy: men have died from palsy, + And why not he? Are there not fevers also, + Agues and chills, and other maladies + Most incident to old age? + No, no, he will not die, he is too sinful; + Honest men die before their proper time. + Good men will die: men by whose side the Duke + In all the sick pollution of his life + Seems like a leper: women and children die, + But the Duke will not die, he is too sinful. + Oh, can it be + There is some immortality in sin, + Which virtue has not? And does the wicked man + Draw life from what to other men were death, + Like poisonous plants that on corruption live? + No, no, I think God would not suffer that: + Yet the Duke will not die: he is too sinful. + But I will die alone, and on this night + Grim Death shall be my bridegroom, and the tomb + My secret house of pleasure: well, what of that? + The world’s a graveyard, and we each, like coffins, + Within us bear a skeleton. + +[_Enter_ LORD MORANZONE _all in black_; _he passes across the back of the + stage looking anxiously about_.] + +MORANZONE + + Where is Guido? + I cannot find him anywhere. + +DUCHESS [_catches sight of him_] + + O God! + ’Twas thou who took my love away from me. + +MORANZONE [_with a look of joy_] + + What, has he left you? + +DUCHESS + + Nay, you know he has. + Oh, give him back to me, give him back, I say, + Or I will tear your body limb from limb, + And to the common gibbet nail your head + Until the carrion crows have stripped it bare. + Better you had crossed a hungry lioness + Before you came between me and my love. + + [_With more pathos_.] + + Nay, give him back, you know not how I love him. + Here by this chair he knelt a half hour since; + ’Twas there he stood, and there he looked at me; + This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears + Into whose open portals he did pour + A tale of love so musical that all + The birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me. + +MORANZONE + + He does not love you, Madam. + +DUCHESS + + May the plague + Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back. + +MORANZONE + + Madam, I tell you you will never see him, + Neither to-night, nor any other night. + +DUCHESS + + What is your name? + +MORANZONE + + My name? Revenge! + + [_Exit_.] + +DUCHESS + + Revenge! + I think I never harmed a little child. + What should Revenge do coming to my door? + It matters not, for Death is there already, + Waiting with his dim torch to light my way. + ’Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think + Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover, + And so dispatch the messengers at once, + Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day, + And let the night, thy sister, come instead, + And drape the world in mourning; let the owl, + Who is thy minister, scream from his tower + And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat, + That is the slave of dim Persephone, + Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing! + Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth + And bid them make us music, and tell the mole + To dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed, + For I shall lie within thine arms to-night. + + END OF ACT II. + + * * * * * + + + + +ACT III + + + SCENE + +_A large corridor in the Ducal Palace_: _a window_ (_L.C._) _looks out on +a view of Padua by moonlight_: _a staircase_ (_R.C._) _leads up to a door +with a portière of crimson velvet_, _with the Duke’s arms embroidered in +gold on it_: _on the lowest step of the staircase a figure draped in +black is sitting_: _the hall is lit by an iron cresset filled with +burning tow_: _thunder and lightning outside_: _the time is night_. + + [_Enter_ GUIDO _through the window_.] + +GUIDO + + The wind is rising: how my ladder shook! + I thought that every gust would break the cords! + + [_Looks out at the city_.] + + Christ! What a night: + Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings + Striking from pinnacle to pinnacle + Across the city, till the dim houses seem + To shudder and to shake as each new glare + Dashes adown the street. + + [_Passes across the stage to foot of staircase_.] + + Ah! who art thou + That sittest on the stair, like unto Death + Waiting a guilty soul? [_A pause_.] + Canst thou not speak? + Or has this storm laid palsy on thy tongue, + And chilled thy utterance? + + [_The figure rises and takes off his mask_.] + +MORANZONE + + Guido Ferranti, + Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night. + +GUIDO [_confusedly_] + + What, art thou here? + +MORANZONE + + Ay, waiting for your coming. + +GUIDO [_looking away from him_] + + I did not think to see you, but am glad, + That you may know the thing I mean to do. + +MORANZONE + + First, I would have you know my well-laid plans; + Listen: I have set horses at the gate + Which leads to Parma: when you have done your business + We will ride hence, and by to-morrow night— + +GUIDO + + It cannot be. + +MORANZONE + + Nay, but it shall. + +GUIDO + + Listen, Lord Moranzone, + I am resolved not to kill this man. + +MORANZONE + + Surely my ears are traitors, speak again: + It cannot be but age has dulled my powers, + I am an old man now: what did you say? + You said that with that dagger in your belt + You would avenge your father’s bloody murder; + Did you not say that? + +GUIDO + + No, my lord, I said + I was resolved not to kill the Duke. + +MORANZONE + + You said not that; it is my senses mock me; + Or else this midnight air o’ercharged with storm + Alters your message in the giving it. + +GUIDO + + Nay, you heard rightly; I’ll not kill this man. + +MORANZONE + + What of thine oath, thou traitor, what of thine oath? + +GUIDO + + I am resolved not to keep that oath. + +MORANZONE + + What of thy murdered father? + +GUIDO + + Dost thou think + My father would be glad to see me coming, + This old man’s blood still hot upon mine hands? + +MORANZONE + + Ay! he would laugh for joy. + +GUIDO + + I do not think so, + There is better knowledge in the other world; + Vengeance is God’s, let God himself revenge. + +MORANZONE + + Thou art God’s minister of vengeance. + +GUIDO + + No! + God hath no minister but his own hand. + I will not kill this man. + +MORANZONE + + Why are you here, + If not to kill him, then? + +GUIDO + + Lord Moranzone, + I purpose to ascend to the Duke’s chamber, + And as he lies asleep lay on his breast + The dagger and this writing; when he awakes + Then he will know who held him in his power + And slew him not: this is the noblest vengeance + Which I can take. + +MORANZONE + + You will not slay him? + +GUIDO + + No. + +MORANZONE + + Ignoble son of a noble father, + Who sufferest this man who sold that father + To live an hour. + +GUIDO + + ’Twas thou that hindered me; + I would have killed him in the open square, + The day I saw him first. + +MORANZONE + + It was not yet time; + Now it is time, and, like some green-faced girl, + Thou pratest of forgiveness. + +GUIDO + + No! revenge: + The right revenge my father’s son should take. + +MORANZONE + + You are a coward, + Take out the knife, get to the Duke’s chamber, + And bring me back his heart upon the blade. + When he is dead, then you can talk to me + Of noble vengeances. + +GUIDO + + Upon thine honour, + And by the love thou bearest my father’s name, + Dost thou think my father, that great gentleman, + That generous soldier, that most chivalrous lord, + Would have crept at night-time, like a common thief, + And stabbed an old man sleeping in his bed, + However he had wronged him: tell me that. + +MORANZONE + +[after some hesitation] + + You have sworn an oath, see that you keep that oath. + Boy, do you think I do not know your secret, + Your traffic with the Duchess? + +GUIDO + + Silence, liar! + The very moon in heaven is not more chaste. + Nor the white stars so pure. + +MORANZONE + + And yet, you love her; + Weak fool, to let love in upon your life, + Save as a plaything. + +GUIDO + + You do well to talk: + Within your veins, old man, the pulse of youth + Throbs with no ardour. Your eyes full of rheum + Have against Beauty closed their filmy doors, + And your clogged ears, losing their natural sense, + Have shut you from the music of the world. + You talk of love! You know not what it is. + +MORANZONE + + Oh, in my time, boy, have I walked i’ the moon, + Swore I would live on kisses and on blisses, + Swore I would die for love, and did not die, + Wrote love bad verses; ay, and sung them badly, + Like all true lovers: Oh, I have done the tricks! + I know the partings and the chamberings; + We are all animals at best, and love + Is merely passion with a holy name. + +GUIDO + + Now then I know you have not loved at all. + Love is the sacrament of life; it sets + Virtue where virtue was not; cleanses men + Of all the vile pollutions of this world; + It is the fire which purges gold from dross, + It is the fan which winnows wheat from chaff, + It is the spring which in some wintry soil + Makes innocence to blossom like a rose. + The days are over when God walked with men, + But Love, which is his image, holds his place. + When a man loves a woman, then he knows + God’s secret, and the secret of the world. + There is no house so lowly or so mean, + Which, if their hearts be pure who live in it, + Love will not enter; but if bloody murder + Knock at the Palace gate and is let in, + Love like a wounded thing creeps out and dies. + This is the punishment God sets on sin. + The wicked cannot love. + + [_A groan comes from the_ DUKE’S _chamber_.] + + Ah! What is that? + Do you not hear? ’Twas nothing. + So I think + That it is woman’s mission by their love + To save the souls of men: and loving her, + My Lady, my white Beatrice, I begin + To see a nobler and a holier vengeance + In letting this man live, than doth reside + In bloody deeds o’ night, stabs in the dark, + And young hands clutching at a palsied throat. + It was, I think, for love’s sake that Lord Christ, + Who was indeed himself incarnate Love, + Bade every man forgive his enemy. + +MORANZONE [_sneeringly_] + + That was in Palestine, not Padua; + And said for saints: I have to do with men. + +GUIDO + + It was for all time said. + +MORANZONE + + And your white Duchess, + What will she do to thank you? + +GUIDO + + Alas, I will not see her face again. + ’Tis but twelve hours since I parted from her, + So suddenly, and with such violent passion, + That she has shut her heart against me now: + No, I will never see her. + +MORANZONE + + What will you do? + +GUIDO + + After that I have laid the dagger there, + Get hence to-night from Padua. + +MORANZONE + + And then? + +GUIDO + + I will take service with the Doge at Venice, + And bid him pack me straightway to the wars, + And there I will, being now sick of life, + Throw that poor life against some desperate spear. + + [_A groan from the_ DUKE’S _chamber again_.] + + Did you not hear a voice? + +MORANZONE + + I always hear, + From the dim confines of some sepulchre, + A voice that cries for vengeance. We waste time, + It will be morning soon; are you resolved + You will not kill the Duke? + +GUIDO + + I am resolved. + +MORANZONE + + O wretched father, lying unavenged. + +GUIDO + + More wretched, were thy son a murderer. + +MORANZONE + + Why, what is life? + +GUIDO + + I do not know, my lord, + I did not give it, and I dare not take it. + +MORANZONE + + I do not thank God often; but I think + I thank him now that I have got no son! + And you, what bastard blood flows in your veins + That when you have your enemy in your grasp + You let him go! I would that I had left you + With the dull hinds that reared you. + +GUIDO + + Better perhaps + That you had done so! May be better still + I’d not been born to this distressful world. + +MORANZONE + + Farewell! + +GUIDO + + Farewell! Some day, Lord Moranzone, + You will understand my vengeance. + +MORANZONE + + Never, boy. + + [_Gets out of window and exit by rope ladder_.] + +GUIDO + + Father, I think thou knowest my resolve, + And with this nobler vengeance art content. + Father, I think in letting this man live + That I am doing what thou wouldst have done. + Father, I know not if a human voice + Can pierce the iron gateway of the dead, + Or if the dead are set in ignorance + Of what we do, or do not, for their sakes. + And yet I feel a presence in the air, + There is a shadow standing at my side, + And ghostly kisses seem to touch my lips, + And leave them holier. [_Kneels down_.] + O father, if ’tis thou, + Canst thou not burst through the decrees of death, + And if corporeal semblance show thyself, + That I may touch thy hand! + No, there is nothing. [_Rises_.] + ’Tis the night that cheats us with its phantoms, + And, like a puppet-master, makes us think + That things are real which are not. It grows late. + Now must I to my business. + + [_Pulls out a letter from his doublet and reads it_.] + + When he wakes, + And sees this letter, and the dagger with it, + Will he not have some loathing for his life, + Repent, perchance, and lead a better life, + Or will he mock because a young man spared + His natural enemy? I do not care. + Father, it is thy bidding that I do, + Thy bidding, and the bidding of my love + Which teaches me to know thee as thou art. + +[_Ascends staircase stealthily_, _and just as he reaches out his hand to +draw back the curtain the Duchess appears all in white_. GUIDO _starts +back_.] + +DUCHESS + + Guido! what do you here so late? + +GUIDO + + O white and spotless angel of my life, + Sure thou hast come from Heaven with a message + That mercy is more noble than revenge? + +DUCHESS + + There is no barrier between us now. + +GUIDO + + None, love, nor shall be. + +DUCHESS + + I have seen to that. + +GUIDO + + Tarry here for me. + +DUCHESS + + No, you are not going? + You will not leave me as you did before? + +GUIDO + + I will return within a moment’s space, + But first I must repair to the Duke’s chamber, + And leave this letter and this dagger there, + That when he wakes— + +DUCHESS + + When who wakes? + +GUIDO + + Why, the Duke. + +DUCHESS + + He will not wake again. + +GUIDO + + What, is he dead? + +DUCHESS + + Ay! he is dead. + +GUIDO + + O God! how wonderful + Are all thy secret ways! Who would have said + That on this very night, when I had yielded + Into thy hands the vengeance that is thine, + Thou with thy finger wouldst have touched the man, + And bade him come before thy judgment seat. + +DUCHESS + + I have just killed him. + +GUIDO [_in horror_] + + Oh! + +DUCHESS + + He was asleep; + Come closer, love, and I will tell you all. + I had resolved to kill myself to-night. + About an hour ago I waked from sleep, + And took my dagger from beneath my pillow, + Where I had hidden it to serve my need, + And drew it from the sheath, and felt the edge, + And thought of you, and how I loved you, Guido, + And turned to fall upon it, when I marked + The old man sleeping, full of years and sin; + There lay he muttering curses in his sleep, + And as I looked upon his evil face + Suddenly like a flame there flashed across me, + There is the barrier which Guido spoke of: + You said there lay a barrier between us, + What barrier but he?— + I hardly know + What happened, but a steaming mist of blood + Rose up between us two. + +GUIDO + + Oh, horrible! + +DUCHESS + + And then he groaned, + And then he groaned no more! I only heard + The dripping of the blood upon the floor. + +GUIDO + + Enough, enough. + +DUCHESS + + Will you not kiss me now? + Do you remember saying that women’s love + Turns men to angels? well, the love of man + Turns women into martyrs; for its sake + We do or suffer anything. + +GUIDO + + O God! + +DUCHESS + + Will you not speak? + +GUIDO + + I cannot speak at all. + +DUCHESS + + Let as not talk of this! Let us go hence: + Is not the barrier broken down between us? + What would you more? Come, it is almost morning. + + [_Puts her hand on_ GUIDO’S.] + +GUIDO [_breaking from her_] + + O damned saint! O angel fresh from Hell! + What bloody devil tempted thee to this! + That thou hast killed thy husband, that is nothing— + Hell was already gaping for his soul— + But thou hast murdered Love, and in its place + Hast set a horrible and bloodstained thing, + Whose very breath breeds pestilence and plague, + And strangles Love. + +DUCHESS [_in amazed wonder_] + + I did it all for you. + I would not have you do it, had you willed it, + For I would keep you without blot or stain, + A thing unblemished, unassailed, untarnished. + Men do not know what women do for love. + Have I not wrecked my soul for your dear sake, + Here and hereafter? + +GUIDO + + No, do not touch me, + Between us lies a thin red stream of blood; + I dare not look across it: when you stabbed him + You stabbed Love with a sharp knife to the heart. + We cannot meet again. + +DUCHESS [_wringing her hands_] + + For you! For you! + I did it all for you: have you forgotten? + You said there was a barrier between us; + That barrier lies now i’ the upper chamber + Upset, overthrown, beaten, and battered down, + And will not part us ever. + +GUIDO + + No, you mistook: + Sin was the barrier, you have raised it up; + Crime was the barrier, you have set it there. + The barrier was murder, and your hand + Has builded it so high it shuts out heaven, + It shuts out God. + +DUCHESS + + I did it all for you; + You dare not leave me now: nay, Guido, listen. + Get horses ready, we will fly to-night. + The past is a bad dream, we will forget it: + Before us lies the future: shall we not have + Sweet days of love beneath our vines and laugh?— + No, no, we will not laugh, but, when we weep, + Well, we will weep together; I will serve you; + I will be very meek and very gentle: + You do not know me. + +GUIDO + + Nay, I know you now; + Get hence, I say, out of my sight. + +DUCHESS [_pacing up and down_] + + O God, + How I have loved this man! + +GUIDO + + You never loved me. + Had it been so, Love would have stayed your hand. + How could we sit together at Love’s table? + You have poured poison in the sacred wine, + And Murder dips his fingers in the sop. + +DUCHESS [_throws herself on her knees_] + + Then slay me now! I have spilt blood to-night, + You shall spill more, so we go hand in hand + To heaven or to hell. Draw your sword, Guido. + Quick, let your soul go chambering in my heart, + It will but find its master’s image there. + Nay, if you will not slay me with your sword, + Bid me to fall upon this reeking knife, + And I will do it. + +GUIDO [_wresting knife from her_] + + Give it to me, I say. + O God, your very hands are wet with blood! + This place is Hell, I cannot tarry here. + I pray you let me see your face no more. + +DUCHESS + + Better for me I had not seen your face. + + [GUIDO _recoils_: _she seizes his hands as she kneels_.] + + Nay, Guido, listen for a while: + Until you came to Padua I lived + Wretched indeed, but with no murderous thought, + Very submissive to a cruel Lord, + Very obedient to unjust commands, + As pure I think as any gentle girl + Who now would turn in horror from my hands— + + [_Stands up_.] + + You came: ah! Guido, the first kindly words + I ever heard since I had come from France + Were from your lips: well, well, that is no matter. + You came, and in the passion of your eyes + I read love’s meaning; everything you said + Touched my dumb soul to music, so I loved you. + And yet I did not tell you of my love. + ’Twas you who sought me out, knelt at my feet + As I kneel now at yours, and with sweet vows, + + [_Kneels_.] + + Whose music seems to linger in my ears, + Swore that you loved me, and I trusted you. + I think there are many women in the world + Who would have tempted you to kill the man. + I did not. + Yet I know that had I done so, + I had not been thus humbled in the dust, + + [_Stands up_.] + + But you had loved me very faithfully. + + [_After a pause approaches him timidly_.] + + I do not think you understand me, Guido: + It was for your sake that I wrought this deed + Whose horror now chills my young blood to ice, + For your sake only. [_Stretching out her arm_.] + Will you not speak to me? + Love me a little: in my girlish life + I have been starved for love, and kindliness + Has passed me by. + +GUIDO + + I dare not look at you: + You come to me with too pronounced a favour; + Get to your tirewomen. + +DUCHESS + + Ay, there it is! + There speaks the man! yet had you come to me + With any heavy sin upon your soul, + Some murder done for hire, not for love, + Why, I had sat and watched at your bedside + All through the night-time, lest Remorse might come + And pour his poisons in your ear, and so + Keep you from sleeping! Sure it is the guilty, + Who, being very wretched, need love most. + +GUIDO + + There is no love where there is any guilt. + +DUCHESS + + No love where there is any guilt! O God, + How differently do we love from men! + There is many a woman here in Padua, + Some workman’s wife, or ruder artisan’s, + Whose husband spends the wages of the week + In a coarse revel, or a tavern brawl, + And reeling home late on the Saturday night, + Finds his wife sitting by a fireless hearth, + Trying to hush the child who cries for hunger, + And then sets to and beats his wife because + The child is hungry, and the fire black. + Yet the wife loves him! and will rise next day + With some red bruise across a careworn face, + And sweep the house, and do the common service, + And try and smile, and only be too glad + If he does not beat her a second time + Before her child!—that is how women love. + + [_A pause_: GUIDO _says nothing_.] + + I think you will not drive me from your side. + Where have I got to go if you reject me?— + You for whose sake this hand has murdered life, + You for whose sake my soul has wrecked itself + Beyond all hope of pardon. + +GUIDO + + Get thee gone: + The dead man is a ghost, and our love too, + Flits like a ghost about its desolate tomb, + And wanders through this charnel house, and weeps + That when you slew your lord you slew it also. + Do you not see? + +DUCHESS + + I see when men love women + They give them but a little of their lives, + But women when they love give everything; + I see that, Guido, now. + +GUIDO + + Away, away, + And come not back till you have waked your dead. + +DUCHESS + + I would to God that I could wake the dead, + Put vision in the glazéd eves, and give + The tongue its natural utterance, and bid + The heart to beat again: that cannot be: + For what is done, is done: and what is dead + Is dead for ever: the fire cannot warm him: + The winter cannot hurt him with its snows; + Something has gone from him; if you call him now, + He will not answer; if you mock him now, + He will not laugh; and if you stab him now + He will not bleed. + I would that I could wake him! + O God, put back the sun a little space, + And from the roll of time blot out to-night, + And bid it not have been! Put back the sun, + And make me what I was an hour ago! + No, no, time will not stop for anything, + Nor the sun stay its courses, though Repentance + Calling it back grow hoarse; but you, my love, + Have you no word of pity even for me? + O Guido, Guido, will you not kiss me once? + Drive me not to some desperate resolve: + Women grow mad when they are treated thus: + Will you not kiss me once? + +GUIDO [_holding up knife_] + + I will not kiss you + Until the blood grows dry upon this knife, + [_Wildly_] Back to your dead! + +DUCHESS [_going up the stairs_] + + Why, then I will be gone! and may you find + More mercy than you showed to me to-night! + +GUIDO + + Let me find mercy when I go at night + And do foul murder. + +DUCHESS [_coming down a few steps_.] + + Murder did you say? + Murder is hungry, and still cries for more, + And Death, his brother, is not satisfied, + But walks the house, and will not go away, + Unless he has a comrade! Tarry, Death, + For I will give thee a most faithful lackey + To travel with thee! Murder, call no more, + For thou shalt eat thy fill. + There is a storm + Will break upon this house before the morning, + So horrible, that the white moon already + Turns grey and sick with terror, the low wind + Goes moaning round the house, and the high stars + Run madly through the vaulted firmament, + As though the night wept tears of liquid fire + For what the day shall look upon. Oh, weep, + Thou lamentable heaven! Weep thy fill! + Though sorrow like a cataract drench the fields, + And make the earth one bitter lake of tears, + It would not be enough. [_A peal of thunder_.] + Do you not hear, + There is artillery in the Heaven to-night. + Vengeance is wakened up, and has unloosed + His dogs upon the world, and in this matter + Which lies between us two, let him who draws + The thunder on his head beware the ruin + Which the forked flame brings after. + + [_A flash of lightning followed by a peal of thunder_.] + +GUIDO + + Away! away! + +[_Exit the_ DUCHESS, _who as she lifts the crimson curtain looks back for +a moment at_ GUIDO, _but he makes no sign_. _More thunder_.] + + Now is life fallen in ashes at my feet + And noble love self-slain; and in its place + Crept murder with its silent bloody feet. + And she who wrought it—Oh! and yet she loved me, + And for my sake did do this dreadful thing. + I have been cruel to her: Beatrice! + Beatrice, I say, come back. + + [_Begins to ascend staircase_, _when the noise of Soldiers is heard_.] + + Ah! what is that? + Torches ablaze, and noise of hurrying feet. + Pray God they have not seized her. + + [_Noise grows louder_.] + + Beatrice! + There is yet time to escape. Come down, come out! + + [_The voice of the_ DUCHESS _outside_.] + + This way went he, the man who slew my lord. + +[_Down the staircase comes hurrying a confused body of Soldiers_; GUIDO +_is not seen at first_, _till the_ DUCHESS _surrounded by Servants +carrying torches appears at the top of the staircase_, _and points to_ +GUIDO, _who is seized at once_, _one of the Soldiers dragging the knife +from his hand and showing it to the Captain of the Guard in sight of the +audience_. _Tableau_.] + + END OF ACT III. + + * * * * * + + + + +ACT IV + + + SCENE + +_The Court of Justice_: _the walls are hung with stamped grey velvet_: +_above the hangings the wall is red_, _and gilt symbolical figures bear +up the roof_, _which is made of red beams with grey soffits and +moulding_: _a canopy of white satin flowered with gold is set for the +Duchess_: _below it a long bench with red cloth for the Judges_: _below +that a table for the clerks of the court. Two soldiers stand on each +side of the canopy_, _and two soldiers guard the door_; _the citizens +have some of them collected in the Court_; _others are coming in greeting +one another_; _two tipstaffs in violet keep order with long white wands_. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Good morrow, neighbour Anthony. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Good morrow, neighbour Dominick. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + This is a strange day for Padua, is it not?—the Duke being dead. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + I tell you, neighbour Dominick, I have not known such a day since the + last Duke died. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + They will try him first, and sentence him afterwards, will they not, + neighbour Anthony? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Nay, for he might ’scape his punishment then; but they will condemn + him first so that he gets his deserts, and give him trial afterwards + so that no injustice is done. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Well, well, it will go hard with him I doubt not. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Surely it is a grievous thing to shed a Duke’s blood. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + They say a Duke has blue blood. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + I think our Duke’s blood was black like his soul. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Have a watch, neighbour Anthony, the officer is looking at thee. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + I care not if he does but look at me; he cannot whip me with the + lashes of his eye. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + What think you of this young man who stuck the knife into the Duke? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Why, that he is a well-behaved, and a well-meaning, and a + well-favoured lad, and yet wicked in that he killed the Duke. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + ’Twas the first time he did it: may be the law will not be hard on + him, as he did not do it before. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + True. + +TIPSTAFF + + Silence, knave. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Am I thy looking-glass, Master Tipstaff, that thou callest me knave? + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Here be one of the household coming. Well, Dame Lucy, thou art of the + Court, how does thy poor mistress the Duchess, with her sweet face? + +MISTRESS LUCY + + O well-a-day! O miserable day! O day! O misery! Why it is just + nineteen years last June, at Michaelmas, since I was married to my + husband, and it is August now, and here is the Duke murdered; there is + a coincidence for you! + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Why, if it is a coincidence, they may not kill the young man: there is + no law against coincidences. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + But how does the Duchess? + +MISTRESS LUCY + + Well well, I knew some harm would happen to the house: six weeks ago + the cakes were all burned on one side, and last Saint Martin even as + ever was, there flew into the candle a big moth that had wings, and + a’most scared me. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + But come to the Duchess, good gossip: what of her? + +MISTRESS LUCY + + Marry, it is time you should ask after her, poor lady; she is + distraught almost. Why, she has not slept, but paced the chamber all + night long. I prayed her to have a posset, or some aqua-vitæ, and to + get to bed and sleep a little for her health’s sake, but she answered + me she was afraid she might dream. That was a strange answer, was it + not? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + These great folk have not much sense, so Providence makes it up to + them in fine clothes. + +MISTRESS LUCY + + Well, well, God keep murder from us, I say, as long as we are alive. + + [_Enter_ LORD MORANZONE _hurriedly_.] + +MORANZONE + + Is the Duke dead? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + He has a knife in his heart, which they say is not healthy for any + man. + +MORANZONE + + Who is accused of having killed him? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Why, the prisoner, sir. + +MORANZONE + + But who is the prisoner? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Why, he that is accused of the Duke’s murder. + +MORANZONE + + I mean, what is his name? + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Faith, the same which his godfathers gave him: what else should it be? + +TIPSTAFF + + Guido Ferranti is his name, my lord. + +MORANZONE + + I almost knew thine answer ere you gave it. + + [_Aside_.] + + Yet it is strange he should have killed the Duke, + Seeing he left me in such different mood. + It is most likely when he saw the man, + This devil who had sold his father’s life, + That passion from their seat within his heart + Thrust all his boyish theories of love, + And in their place set vengeance; yet I marvel + That he escaped not. + + [_Turning again to the crowd_.] + + How was he taken? Tell me. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Marry, sir, he was taken by the heels. + +MORANZONE + + But who seized him? + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Why, those that did lay hold of him. + +MORANZONE + + How was the alarm given? + +THIRD CITIZEN + + That I cannot tell you, sir. + +MISTRESS LUCY + + It was the Duchess herself who pointed him out. + +MORANZONE [_aside_] + + The Duchess! There is something strange in this. + +MISTRESS LUCY + + Ay! And the dagger was in his hand—the Duchess’s own dagger. + +MORANZONE + + What did you say? + +MISTRESS LUCY + + Why, marry, that it was with the Duchess’s dagger that the Duke was + killed. + +MORANZONE [_aside_] + + There is some mystery about this: I cannot understand it. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + They be very long a-coming, + +FIRST CITIZEN + + I warrant they will come soon enough for the prisoner. + +TIPSTAFF + + Silence in the Court! + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Thou dost break silence in bidding us keep it, Master Tipstaff. + + [_Enter the_ LORD JUSTICE _and the other Judges_.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Who is he in scarlet? Is he the headsman? + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Nay, he is the Lord Justice. + + [_Enter_ GUIDO _guarded_.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + + There be the prisoner surely. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + He looks honest. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + That be his villany: knaves nowadays do look so honest that honest + folk are forced to look like knaves so as to be different. + + [_Enter the Headman_, _who takes his stand behind_ GUIDO.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Yon be the headsman then! O Lord! Is the axe sharp, think you? + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Ay! sharper than thy wits are; but the edge is not towards him, mark + you. + +SECOND CITIZEN [_scratching his neck_] + + I’ faith, I like it not so near. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Tut, thou need’st not be afraid; they never cut the heads of common + folk: they do but hang us. + + [_Trumpets outside_.] + +THIRD CITIZEN + + What are the trumpets for? Is the trial over? + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Nay, ’tis for the Duchess. + +[_Enter the_ DUCHESS _in black velvet_; _her train of flowered black +velvet is carried by two pages in violet_; _with her is the_ CARDINAL _in +scarlet_, _and the gentlemen of the Court in black_; _she takes her seat +on the throne above the Judges_, _who rise and take their caps off as she +enters_; _the_ CARDINAL _sits next to her a little lower_; _the Courtiers +group themselves about the throne_.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + + O poor lady, how pale she is! Will she sit there? + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Ay! she is in the Duke’s place now. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + That is a good thing for Padua; the Duchess is a very kind and + merciful Duchess; why, she cured my child of the ague once. + +THIRD CITIZEN + + Ay, and has given us bread: do not forget the bread. + +A SOLDIER + + Stand back, good people. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + If we be good, why should we stand back? + +TIPSTAFF + + Silence in the Court! + +LORD JUSTICE + + May it please your Grace, + Is it your pleasure we proceed to trial + Of the Duke’s murder? [DUCHESS _bows_.] + Set the prisoner forth. + What is thy name? + +GUIDO + + It matters not, my lord. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Guido Ferranti is thy name in Padua. + +GUIDO + + A man may die as well under that name as any other. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Thou art not ignorant + What dreadful charge men lay against thee here, + Namely, the treacherous murder of thy Lord, + Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua; + What dost thou say in answer? + +GUIDO + + I say nothing. + +LORD JUSTICE [_rising_] + + Guido Ferranti— + +MORANZONE [_stepping from the crowd_] + + Tarry, my Lord Justice. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Who art thou that bid’st justice tarry, sir? + +MORANZONE + + So be it justice it can go its way; + But if it be not justice— + +LORD JUSTICE + + Who is this? + +COUNT BARDI + + A very noble gentleman, and well known + To the late Duke. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Sir, thou art come in time + To see the murder of the Duke avenged. + There stands the man who did this heinous thing. + +MORANZONE + + My lord, + I ask again what proof have ye? + +LORD JUSTICE [_holding up the dagger_] + + This dagger, + Which from his blood-stained hands, itself all blood, + Last night the soldiers seized: what further proof + Need we indeed? + +MORANZONE [_takes the danger and approaches the_ DUCHESS] + + Saw I not such a dagger + Hang from your Grace’s girdle yesterday? + + [_The_ DUCHESS _shudders and makes no answer_.] + + Ah! my Lord Justice, may I speak a moment + With this young man, who in such peril stands? + +LORD JUSTICE + + Ay, willingly, my lord, and may you turn him + To make a full avowal of his guilt. + +[LORD MORANZONE _goes over to_ GUIDO, _who stands R. and clutches him by +the hand_.] + +MORANZONE [_in a low voice_] + + She did it! Nay, I saw it in her eyes. + Boy, dost thou think I’ll let thy father’s son + Be by this woman butchered to his death? + Her husband sold your father, and the wife + Would sell the son in turn. + +GUIDO + + Lord Moranzone, + I alone did this thing: be satisfied, + My father is avenged. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Doth he confess? + +GUIDO + + My lord, I do confess + That foul unnatural murder has been done. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + Why, look at that: he has a pitiful heart, and does not like murder; + they will let him go for that. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Say you no more? + +GUIDO + + My lord, I say this also, + That to spill human blood is deadly sin. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + Marry, he should tell that to the headsman: ’tis a good sentiment. + +GUIDO + + Lastly, my lord, I do entreat the Court + To give me leave to utter openly + The dreadful secret of this mystery, + And to point out the very guilty one + Who with this dagger last night slew the Duke. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Thou hast leave to speak. + +DUCHESS [_rising_] + + I say he shall not speak: + What need have we of further evidence? + Was he not taken in the house at night + In Guilt’s own bloody livery? + +LORD JUSTICE [_showing her the statute_] + + Your Grace + Can read the law. + +DUCHESS [_waiving book aside_] + + Bethink you, my Lord Justice, + Is it not very like that such a one + May, in the presence of the people here, + Utter some slanderous word against my Lord, + Against the city, or the city’s honour, + Perchance against myself. + +LORD JUSTICE + + My liege, the law. + +DUCHESS + + He shall not speak, but, with gags in his mouth, + Shall climb the ladder to the bloody block. + +LORD JUSTICE + + The law, my liege. + +DUCHESS + + We are not bound by law, + But with it we bind others. + +MORANZONE + + My Lord Justice, + Thou wilt not suffer this injustice here. + +LORD JUSTICE + + The Court needs not thy voice, Lord Moranzone. + Madam, it were a precedent most evil + To wrest the law from its appointed course, + For, though the cause be just, yet anarchy + Might on this licence touch these golden scales + And unjust causes unjust victories gain. + +COUNT BARDI + + I do not think your Grace can stay the law. + +DUCHESS + + Ay, it is well to preach and prate of law: + Methinks, my haughty lords of Padua, + If ye are hurt in pocket or estate, + So much as makes your monstrous revenues + Less by the value of one ferry toll, + Ye do not wait the tedious law’s delay + With such sweet patience as ye counsel me. + +COUNT BARDI + + Madam, I think you wrong our nobles here. + +DUCHESS + + I think I wrong them not. Which of you all + Finding a thief within his house at night, + With some poor chattel thrust into his rags, + Will stop and parley with him? do ye not + Give him unto the officer and his hook + To be dragged gaolwards straightway? + And so now, + Had ye been men, finding this fellow here, + With my Lord’s life still hot upon his hands, + Ye would have haled him out into the court, + And struck his head off with an axe. + +GUIDO + + O God! + +DUCHESS + + Speak, my Lord Justice. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Your Grace, it cannot be: + The laws of Padua are most certain here: + And by those laws the common murderer even + May with his own lips plead, and make defence. + +DUCHESS + + This is no common murderer, Lord Justice, + But a great outlaw, and a most vile traitor, + Taken in open arms against the state. + For he who slays the man who rules a state + Slays the state also, widows every wife, + And makes each child an orphan, and no less + Is to be held a public enemy, + Than if he came with mighty ordonnance, + And all the spears of Venice at his back, + To beat and batter at our city gates— + Nay, is more dangerous to our commonwealth, + For walls and gates, bastions and forts, and things + Whose common elements are wood and stone + May be raised up, but who can raise again + The ruined body of my murdered lord, + And bid it live and laugh? + +MAFFIO + + Now by Saint Paul + I do not think that they will let him speak. + +JEPPO VITELLOZZO + + There is much in this, listen. + +DUCHESS + + Wherefore now, + Throw ashes on the head of Padua, + With sable banners hang each silent street, + Let every man be clad in solemn black; + But ere we turn to these sad rites of mourning + Let us bethink us of the desperate hand + Which wrought and brought this ruin on our state, + And straightway pack him to that narrow house, + Where no voice is, but with a little dust + Death fills right up the lying mouths of men. + +GUIDO + + Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord Justice, + Thou mightst as well bid the untrammelled ocean, + The winter whirlwind, or the Alpine storm, + Not roar their will, as bid me hold my peace! + Ay! though ye put your knives into my throat, + Each grim and gaping wound shall find a tongue, + And cry against you. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Sir, this violence + Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal + Give thee a lawful right to open speech, + Naught that thou sayest can be credited. + + [_The_ DUCHESS _smiles and_ GUIDO _falls back with a gesture of + despair_.] + + Madam, myself, and these wise Justices, + Will with your Grace’s sanction now retire + Into another chamber, to decide + Upon this difficult matter of the law, + And search the statutes and the precedents. + +DUCHESS + + Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes well, + Nor let this brawling traitor have his way. + +MORANZONE + + Go, my Lord Justice, search thy conscience well, + Nor let a man be sent to death unheard. + + [_Exit the_ LORD JUSTICE _and the Judges_.] + +DUCHESS + + Silence, thou evil genius of my life! + Thou com’st between us two a second time; + This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine. + +GUIDO + + I shall not die till I have uttered voice. + +DUCHESS + + Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with thee. + +GUIDO + + Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua? + +DUCHESS + + I am what thou hast made me; look at me well, + I am thy handiwork. + +MAFFIO + + See, is she not + Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice, + Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge? + +JEPPO + + Hush! she may hear thy chatter. + +HEADSMAN + + My young fellow, + I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak, + Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck, + And words of thine will never blunt its edge. + But if thou art so bent upon it, why + Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder: + The common people call him kindly here, + Indeed I know he has a kindly soul. + +GUIDO + + This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies + More than the others. + +HEADSMAN + + Why, God love you, sir, + I’ll do you your last service on this earth. + +GUIDO + + My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land, + With Lord Christ’s face of mercy looking down + From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man + Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so, + May I not tell this dreadful tale of sin, + If any sin there be upon my soul? + +DUCHESS + + Thou dost but waste thy time. + +CARDINAL + + Alack, my son, + I have no power with the secular arm. + My task begins when justice has been done, + To urge the wavering sinner to repent + And to confess to Holy Church’s ear + The dreadful secrets of a sinful mind. + +DUCHESS + + Thou mayest speak to the confessional + Until thy lips grow weary of their tale, + But here thou shalt not speak. + +GUIDO + + My reverend father, + You bring me but cold comfort. + +CARDINAL + + Nay, my son, + For the great power of our mother Church, + Ends not with this poor bubble of a world, + Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith, + For if the sinner doth repentant die, + Our prayers and holy masses much avail + To bring the guilty soul from purgatory. + +DUCHESS + + And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord + With that red star of blood upon his heart, + Tell him I sent thee hither. + +GUIDO + + O dear God! + +MORANZONE + + This is the woman, is it, whom you loved? + +CARDINAL + + Your Grace is very cruel to this man. + +DUCHESS + + No more than he was cruel to her Grace. + +CARDINAL + + Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes. + +DUCHESS + + I got no mercy, and I give it not. + He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone, + He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field, + He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast, + He hath withered up all kindness at the root; + My life is as some famine murdered land, + Whence all good things have perished utterly: + I am what he hath made me. + + [_The_ DUCHESS _weeps_.] + +JEPPO + + Is it not strange + That she should so have loved the wicked Duke? + +MAFFIO + + It is most strange when women love their lords, + And when they love them not it is most strange. + +JEPPO + + What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci! + +MAFFIO + + Ay! I can bear the ills of other men, + Which is philosophy. + +DUCHESS + + They tarry long, + These greybeards and their council; bid them come; + Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart + Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed, + That I here care to live; God knows my life + Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that, + I would not die companionless, or go + Lonely to Hell. + Look, my Lord Cardinal, + Canst thou not see across my forehead here, + In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge? + Fetch me some water, I will wash it off: + ’Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time + I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal? + Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain: + Give me a knife; not that one, but another, + And I will cut it out. + +CARDINAL + + It is most natural + To be incensed against the murderous hand + That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord. + +DUCHESS + + I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand; + But it will burn hereafter. + +CARDINAL + + Nay, the Church + Ordains us to forgive our enemies. + +DUCHESS + + Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it. + They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well. + + [_Enter the_ LORD JUSTICE.] + +LORD JUSTICE + + Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege, + We have long pondered on the point at issue, + And much considered of your Grace’s wisdom, + And never wisdom spake from fairer lips— + +DUCHESS + + Proceed, sir, without compliment. + +LORD JUSTICE + + We find, + As your own Grace did rightly signify, + That any citizen, who by force or craft + Conspires against the person of the Liege, + Is _ipso facto_ outlaw, void of rights + Such as pertain to other citizens, + Is traitor, and a public enemy, + Who may by any casual sword be slain + Without the slayer’s danger; nay, if brought + Into the presence of the tribunal, + Must with dumb lips and silence reverent + Listen unto his well-deserved doom, + Nor has the privilege of open speech. + +DUCHESS + + I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily; + I like your law: and now I pray dispatch + This public outlaw to his righteous doom; + What is there more? + +LORD JUSTICE + + Ay, there is more, your Grace. + This man being alien born, not Paduan, + Nor by allegiance bound unto the Duke, + Save such as common nature doth lay down, + Hath, though accused of treasons manifold, + Whose slightest penalty is certain death, + Yet still the right of public utterance + Before the people and the open court; + Nay, shall be much entreated by the Court, + To make some formal pleading for his life, + Lest his own city, righteously incensed, + Should with an unjust trial tax our state, + And wars spring up against the commonwealth: + So merciful are the laws of Padua + Unto the stranger living in her gates. + +DUCHESS + + Being of my Lord’s household, is he stranger here? + +LORD JUSTICE + + Ay, until seven years of service spent + He cannot be a Paduan citizen. + +GUIDO + + I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily; + I like your law. + +SECOND CITIZEN + + I like no law at all: + Were there no law there’d be no law-breakers, + So all men would be virtuous. + +FIRST CITIZEN + + So they would; + ’Tis a wise saying that, and brings you far. + +TIPSTAFF + + Ay! to the gallows, knave. + +DUCHESS + + Is this the law? + +LORD JUSTICE + + It is the law most certainly, my liege. + +DUCHESS + + Show me the book: ’tis written in blood-red. + +JEPPO + + Look at the Duchess. + +DUCHESS + + Thou accursed law, + I would that I could tear thee from the state + As easy as I tear thee from this book. + + [_Tears out the page_.] + + Come here, Count Bardi: are you honourable? + Get a horse ready for me at my house, + For I must ride to Venice instantly. + +BARDI + + To Venice, Madam? + +DUCHESS + + Not a word of this, + Go, go at once. [_Exit_ COUNT BARDI.] + A moment, my Lord Justice. + If, as thou sayest it, this is the law— + Nay, nay, I doubt not that thou sayest right, + Though right be wrong in such a case as this— + May I not by the virtue of mine office + Adjourn this court until another day? + +LORD JUSTICE + + Madam, you cannot stay a trial for blood. + +DUCHESS + + I will not tarry then to hear this man + Rail with rude tongue against our sacred person. + Come, gentlemen. + +LORD JUSTICE + + My liege, + You cannot leave this court until the prisoner + Be purged or guilty of this dread offence. + +DUCHESS + + Cannot, Lord Justice? By what right do you + Set barriers in my path where I should go? + Am I not Duchess here in Padua, + And the state’s regent? + +LORD JUSTICE + + For that reason, Madam, + Being the fountain-head of life and death + Whence, like a mighty river, justice flows, + Without thy presence justice is dried up + And fails of purpose: thou must tarry here. + +DUCHESS + + What, wilt thou keep me here against my will? + +LORD JUSTICE + + We pray thy will be not against the law. + +DUCHESS + + What if I force my way out of the court? + +LORD JUSTICE + + Thou canst not force the Court to give thee way. + +DUCHESS + + I will not tarry. [_Rises from her seat_.] + +LORD JUSTICE + + Is the usher here? + Let him stand forth. [_Usher comes forward_.] + Thou knowest thy business, sir. + +[_The Usher closes the doors of the court_, _which are L._, _and when +the_ DUCHESS _and her retinue approach_, _kneels down_.] + +USHER + + In all humility I beseech your Grace + Turn not my duty to discourtesy, + Nor make my unwelcome office an offence. + +DUCHESS + + Is there no gentleman amongst you all + To prick this prating fellow from our way? + +MAFFIO [_drawing his sword_] + + Ay! that will I. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Count Maffio, have a care, + And you, sir. [_To_ JEPPO.] + The first man who draws his sword + Upon the meanest officer of this Court, + Dies before nightfall. + +DUCHESS + + Sirs, put up your swords: + It is most meet that I should hear this man. + + [_Goes back to throne_.] + +MORANZONE + + Now hast thou got thy enemy in thy hand. + +LORD JUSTICE [_taking the time-glass up_] + + Guido Ferranti, while the crumbling sand + Falls through this time-glass, thou hast leave to speak. + This and no more. + +GUIDO + + It is enough, my lord. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Thou standest on the extreme verge of death; + See that thou speakest nothing but the truth, + Naught else will serve thee. + +GUIDO + + If I speak it not, + Then give my body to the headsman there. + +LORD JUSTICE [_turns the time-glass_] + + Let there be silence while the prisoner speaks. + +TIPSTAFF + + Silence in the Court there. + +GUIDO + + My Lords Justices, + And reverent judges of this worthy court, + I hardly know where to begin my tale, + So strangely dreadful is this history. + First, let me tell you of what birth I am. + I am the son of that good Duke Lorenzo + Who was with damned treachery done to death + By a most wicked villain, lately Duke + Of this good town of Padua. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Have a care, + It will avail thee nought to mock this prince + Who now lies in his coffin. + +MAFFIO + + By Saint James, + This is the Duke of Parma’s rightful heir. + +JEPPO + + I always thought him noble. + +GUIDO + + I confess + That with the purport of a just revenge, + A most just vengeance on a man of blood, + I entered the Duke’s household, served his will, + Sat at his board, drank of his wine, and was + His intimate: so much I will confess, + And this too, that I waited till he grew + To give the fondest secrets of his life + Into my keeping, till he fawned on me, + And trusted me in every private matter + Even as my noble father trusted him; + That for this thing I waited. + + [_To the Headsman_.] + + Thou man of blood! + Turn not thine axe on me before the time: + Who knows if it be time for me to die? + Is there no other neck in court but mine? + +LORD JUSTICE + + The sand within the time-glass flows apace. + Come quickly to the murder of the Duke. + +GUIDO + + I will be brief: Last night at twelve o’ the clock, + By a strong rope I scaled the palace wall, + With purport to revenge my father’s murder— + Ay! with that purport I confess, my lord. + This much I will acknowledge, and this also, + That as with stealthy feet I climbed the stair + Which led unto the chamber of the Duke, + And reached my hand out for the scarlet cloth + Which shook and shivered in the gusty door, + Lo! the white moon that sailed in the great heaven + Flooded with silver light the darkened room, + Night lit her candles for me, and I saw + The man I hated, cursing in his sleep; + And thinking of a most dear father murdered, + Sold to the scaffold, bartered to the block, + I smote the treacherous villain to the heart + With this same dagger, which by chance I found + Within the chamber. + +DUCHESS [_rising from her seat_] + + Oh! + +GUIDO [_hurriedly_] + + I killed the Duke. + Now, my Lord Justice, if I may crave a boon, + Suffer me not to see another sun + Light up the misery of this loathsome world. + +LORD JUSTICE + + Thy boon is granted, thou shalt die to-night. + Lead him away. Come, Madam + +[GUIDO _is led off_; _as he goes the_ DUCHESS _stretches out her arms and +rushes down the stage_.] + +DUCHESS + + Guido! Guido! + + [_Faints_.] + + _Tableau_ + + END OF ACT IV. + + * * * * * + + + + +ACT V + + + SCENE + +_A dungeon in the public prison of Padua_; _Guido lies asleep on a +pallet_ (_L.C._); _a table with a goblet on it is set_ (_L.C._); _five +soldiers are drinking and playing dice in the corner on a stone table_; +_one of them has a lantern hung to his halbert_; _a torch is set in the +wall over Guido’s head_. _Two grated windows behind_, _one on each side +of the door which is_ (_C._), _look out into the passage_; _the stage is +rather dark_. + +FIRST SOLDIER [_throws dice_] + + Sixes again! good Pietro. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + I’ faith, lieutenant, I will play with thee no more. I will lose + everything. + +THIRD SOLDIER + + Except thy wits; thou art safe there! + +SECOND SOLDIER + + Ay, ay, he cannot take them from me. + +THIRD SOLDIER + + No; for thou hast no wits to give him. + +THE SOLDIERS [_loudly_] + + Ha! ha! ha! + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Silence! You will wake the prisoner; he is asleep. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + What matter? He will get sleep enough when he is buried. I warrant + he’d be glad if we could wake him when he’s in the grave. + +THIRD SOLDIER + + Nay! for when he wakes there it will be judgment day. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + Ay, and he has done a grievous thing; for, look you, to murder one of + us who are but flesh and blood is a sin, and to kill a Duke goes being + near against the law. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Well, well, he was a wicked Duke. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + And so he should not have touched him; if one meddles with wicked + people, one is like to be tainted with their wickedness. + +THIRD SOLDIER + + Ay, that is true. How old is the prisoner? + +SECOND SOLDIER + + Old enough to do wrong, and not old enough to be wise. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Why, then, he might be any age. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + They say the Duchess wanted to pardon him. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Is that so? + +SECOND SOLDIER + + Ay, and did much entreat the Lord Justice, but he would not. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + I had thought, Pietro, that the Duchess was omnipotent. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + True, she is well-favoured; I know none so comely. + +THE SOLDIERS + + Ha! ha! ha! + +FIRST SOLDIER + + I meant I had thought our Duchess could do anything. + +SECOND SOLDIER + + Nay, for he is now given over to the Justices, and they will see that + justice be done; they and stout Hugh the headsman; but when his head + is off, why then the Duchess can pardon him if she likes; there is no + law against that. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + I do not think that stout Hugh, as you call him, will do the business + for him after all. This Guido is of gentle birth, and so by the law + can drink poison first, if it so be his pleasure. + +THIRD SOLDIER + + And if he does not drink it? + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Why, then, they will kill him. + + [_Knocking comes at the door_.] + +FIRST SOLDIER + + See who that is. + + [_Third Soldier goes over and looks through the wicket_.] + +THIRD SOLDIER + + It is a woman, sir. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Is she pretty? + +THIRD SOLDIER + + I can’t tell. She is masked, lieutenant. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + It is only very ugly or very beautiful women who ever hide their + faces. Let her in. + + [_Soldier opens the door_, _and the_ DUCHESS _masked and cloaked + enters_.] + +DUCHESS [_to Third Soldier_] + + Are you the officer on guard? + +FIRST SOLDIER [_coming forward_] + + I am, madam. + +DUCHESS + + I must see the prisoner alone. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + I am afraid that is impossible. [_The_ DUCHESS _hands him a ring_, + _he looks at and returns it to her with a bow and makes a sign to the + Soldiers_.] Stand without there. + + [_Exeunt the Soldiers_.] + +DUCHESS + + Officer, your men are somewhat rough. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + They mean no harm. + +DUCHESS + + I shall be going back in a few minutes. As I pass through the + corridor do not let them try and lift my mask. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + You need not be afraid, madam. + +DUCHESS + + I have a particular reason for wishing my face not to be seen. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Madam, with this ring you can go in and out as you please; it is the + Duchess’s own ring. + +DUCHESS + + Leave us. [_The Soldier turns to go out_.] A moment, sir. For what + hour is . . . + +FIRST SOLDIER + + At twelve o’clock, madam, we have orders to lead him out; but I dare + say he won’t wait for us; he’s more like to take a drink out of that + poison yonder. Men are afraid of the headsman. + +DUCHESS + + Is that poison? + +FIRST SOLDIER + + Ay, madam, and very sure poison too. + +DUCHESS + + You may go, sir. + +FIRST SOLDIER + + By Saint James, a pretty hand! I wonder who she is. Some woman who + loved him, perhaps. + + [_Exit_.] + +DUCHESS [_taking her mark off_] + + At last! + He can escape now in this cloak and vizard, + We are of a height almost: they will not know him; + As for myself what matter? + So that he does not curse me as he goes, + I care but little: I wonder will he curse me. + He has the right. It is eleven now; + They will not come till twelve. + + [_Goes over to the table_.] + + So this is poison. + Is it not strange that in this liquor here + There lies the key to all philosophies? + + [_Takes the cup up_.] + + It smells of poppies. I remember well + That, when I was a child in Sicily, + I took the scarlet poppies from the corn, + And made a little wreath, and my grave uncle, + Don John of Naples, laughed: I did not know + That they had power to stay the springs of life, + To make the pulse cease beating, and to chill + The blood in its own vessels, till men come + And with a hook hale the poor body out, + And throw it in a ditch: the body, ay,— + What of the soul? that goes to heaven or hell. + Where will mine go? + + [_Takes the torch from the wall_, _and goes over to the bed_.] + + How peacefully here he sleeps, + Like a young schoolboy tired out with play: + I would that I could sleep so peacefully, + But I have dreams. [_Bending over him_.] + Poor boy: what if I kissed him? + No, no, my lips would burn him like a fire. + He has had enough of Love. Still that white neck + Will ’scape the headsman: I have seen to that: + He will get hence from Padua to-night, + And that is well. You are very wise, Lord Justices, + And yet you are not half so wise as I am, + And that is well. + O God! how I have loved you, + And what a bloody flower did Love bear! + + [_Comes back to the table_.] + + What if I drank these juices, and so ceased? + Were it not better than to wait till Death + Come to my bed with all his serving men, + Remorse, disease, old age, and misery? + I wonder does one suffer much: I think + That I am very young to die like this, + But so it must be. Why, why should I die? + He will escape to-night, and so his blood + Will not be on my head. No, I must die; + I have been guilty, therefore I must die; + He loves me not, and therefore I must die: + I would die happier if he would kiss me, + But he will not do that. I did not know him. + I thought he meant to sell me to the Judge; + That is not strange; we women never know + Our lovers till they leave us. + + [_Bell begins to toll_.] + + Thou vile bell, + That like a bloodhound from thy brazen throat + Call’st for this man’s life, cease! thou shalt not get it. + He stirs—I must be quick: [_Takes up cup_.] + O Love, Love, Love, + I did not think that I would pledge thee thus! + +[_Drinks poison_, _and sets the cup down on the table behind her_: _the +noise wakens_ GUIDO, _who starts up_, _and does not see what she has +done_. _There is silence for a minute_, _each looking at the other_.] + + I do not come to ask your pardon now, + Seeing I know I stand beyond all pardon; + Enough of that: I have already, sir, + Confessed my sin to the Lords Justices; + They would not listen to me: and some said + I did invent a tale to save your life; + You have trafficked with me; others said + That women played with pity as with men; + Others that grief for my slain Lord and husband + Had robbed me of my wits: they would not hear me, + And, when I sware it on the holy book, + They bade the doctor cure me. They are ten, + Ten against one, and they possess your life. + They call me Duchess here in Padua. + I do not know, sir; if I be the Duchess, + I wrote your pardon, and they would not take it; + They call it treason, say I taught them that; + Maybe I did. Within an hour, Guido, + They will be here, and drag you from the cell, + And bind your hands behind your back, and bid you + Kneel at the block: I am before them there; + Here is the signet ring of Padua, + ’Twill bring you safely through the men on guard; + There is my cloak and vizard; they have orders + Not to be curious: when you pass the gate + Turn to the left, and at the second bridge + You will find horses waiting: by to-morrow + You will be at Venice, safe. [_A pause_.] + Do you not speak? + Will you not even curse me ere you go?— + You have the right. [_A pause_.] + You do not understand + There lies between you and the headsman’s axe + Hardly so much sand in the hour-glass + As a child’s palm could carry: here is the ring: + I have washed my hand: there is no blood upon it: + You need not fear. Will you not take the ring? + +GUIDO [_takes ring and kisses it_] + + Ay! gladly, Madam. + +DUCHESS + + And leave Padua. + +GUIDO + + Leave Padua. + +DUCHESS + + But it must be to-night. + +GUIDO + + To-night it shall be. + +DUCHESS + + Oh, thank God for that! + +GUIDO + + So I can live; life never seemed so sweet + As at this moment. + +DUCHESS + + Do not tarry, Guido, + There is my cloak: the horse is at the bridge, + The second bridge below the ferry house: + Why do you tarry? Can your ears not hear + This dreadful bell, whose every ringing stroke + Robs one brief minute from your boyish life. + Go quickly. + +GUIDO + + Ay! he will come soon enough. + +DUCHESS + + Who? + +GUIDO [_calmly_] + + Why, the headsman. + +DUCHESS + + No, no. + +GUIDO + + Only he + Can bring me out of Padua. + +DUCHESS + + You dare not! + You dare not burden my o’erburdened soul + With two dead men! I think one is enough. + For when I stand before God, face to face, + I would not have you, with a scarlet thread + Around your white throat, coming up behind + To say I did it. + +GUIDO + + Madam, I wait. + +DUCHESS + + No, no, you cannot: you do not understand, + I have less power in Padua to-night + Than any common woman; they will kill you. + I saw the scaffold as I crossed the square, + Already the low rabble throng about it + With fearful jests, and horrid merriment, + As though it were a morris-dancer’s platform, + And not Death’s sable throne. O Guido, Guido, + You must escape! + +GUIDO + + Madam, I tarry here. + +DUCHESS + + Guido, you shall not: it would be a thing + So terrible that the amazed stars + Would fall from heaven, and the palsied moon + Be in her sphere eclipsed, and the great sun + Refuse to shine upon the unjust earth + Which saw thee die. + +GUIDO + + Be sure I shall not stir. + +DUCHESS [_wringing her hands_] + + Is one sin not enough, but must it breed + A second sin more horrible again + Than was the one that bare it? O God, God, + Seal up sin’s teeming womb, and make it barren, + I will not have more blood upon my hand + Than I have now. + +GUIDO [_seizing her hand_] + + What! am I fallen so low + That I may not have leave to die for you? + +DUCHESS [_tearing her hand away_] + + Die for me?—no, my life is a vile thing, + Thrown to the miry highways of this world; + You shall not die for me, you shall not, Guido; + I am a guilty woman. + +GUIDO + + Guilty?—let those + Who know what a thing temptation is, + Let those who have not walked as we have done, + In the red fire of passion, those whose lives + Are dull and colourless, in a word let those, + If any such there be, who have not loved, + Cast stones against you. As for me— + +DUCHESS + + Alas! + +GUIDO [_falling at her feet_] + + You are my lady, and you are my love! + O hair of gold, O crimson lips, O face + Made for the luring and the love of man! + Incarnate image of pure loveliness! + Worshipping thee I do forget the past, + Worshipping thee my soul comes close to thine, + Worshipping thee I seem to be a god, + And though they give my body to the block, + Yet is my love eternal! + + [DUCHESS _puts her hands over her face_: GUIDO _draws them down_.] + + Sweet, lift up + The trailing curtains that overhang your eyes + That I may look into those eyes, and tell you + I love you, never more than now when Death + Thrusts his cold lips between us: Beatrice, + I love you: have you no word left to say? + Oh, I can bear the executioner, + But not this silence: will you not say you love me? + Speak but that word and Death shall lose his sting, + But speak it not, and fifty thousand deaths + Are, in comparison, mercy. Oh, you are cruel, + And do not love me. + +DUCHESS + + Alas! I have no right + For I have stained the innocent hands of love + With spilt-out blood: there is blood on the ground; + I set it there. + +GUIDO + + Sweet, it was not yourself, + It was some devil tempted you. + +DUCHESS [_rising suddenly_] + + No, no, + We are each our own devil, and we make + This world our hell. + +GUIDO + + Then let high Paradise + Fall into Tartarus! for I shall make + This world my heaven for a little space. + The sin was mine, if any sin there was. + ’Twas I who nurtured murder in my heart, + Sweetened my meats, seasoned my wine with it, + And in my fancy slew the accursed Duke + A hundred times a day. Why, had this man + Died half so often as I wished him to, + Death had been stalking ever through the house, + And murder had not slept. + But you, fond heart, + Whose little eyes grew tender over a whipt hound, + You whom the little children laughed to see + Because you brought the sunlight where you passed, + You the white angel of God’s purity, + This which men call your sin, what was it? + +DUCHESS + + Ay! + What was it? There are times it seems a dream, + An evil dream sent by an evil god, + And then I see the dead face in the coffin + And know it is no dream, but that my hand + Is red with blood, and that my desperate soul + Striving to find some haven for its love + From the wild tempest of this raging world, + Has wrecked its bark upon the rocks of sin. + What was it, said you?—murder merely? Nothing + But murder, horrible murder. + +GUIDO + + Nay, nay, nay, + ’Twas but the passion-flower of your love + That in one moment leapt to terrible life, + And in one moment bare this gory fruit, + Which I had plucked in thought a thousand times. + My soul was murderous, but my hand refused; + Your hand wrought murder, but your soul was pure. + And so I love you, Beatrice, and let him + Who has no mercy for your stricken head, + Lack mercy up in heaven! Kiss me, sweet. + + [_Tries to kiss her_.] + +DUCHESS + + No, no, your lips are pure, and mine are soiled, + For Guilt has been my paramour, and Sin + Lain in my bed: O Guido, if you love me + Get hence, for every moment is a worm + Which gnaws your life away: nay, sweet, get hence, + And if in after time you think of me, + Think of me as of one who loved you more + Than anything on earth; think of me, Guido, + As of a woman merely, one who tried + To make her life a sacrifice to love, + And slew love in the trial: Oh, what is that? + The bell has stopped from ringing, and I hear + The feet of armed men upon the stair. + +GUIDO [_aside_] + + That is the signal for the guard to come. + +DUCHESS + + Why has the bell stopped ringing? + +GUIDO + + If you must know, + That stops my life on this side of the grave, + But on the other we shall meet again. + +DUCHESS + + No, no, ’tis not too late: you must get hence; + The horse is by the bridge, there is still time. + Away, away, you must not tarry here! + + [_Noise of Soldiers in the passage_.] + +A VOICE OUTSIDE + + Room for the Lord Justice of Padua! + +[_The_ LORD JUSTICE _is seen through the grated window passing down the +corridor preceded by men bearing torches_.] + +DUCHESS + + It is too late. + +A VOICE OUTSIDE + + Room for the headsman. + +DUCHESS [_sinks down_] + + Oh! + +[_The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder is seen passing the +corridor_, _followed by Monks bearing candles_.] + +GUIDO + + Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this poison. + I do not fear the headsman, but I would die + Not on the lonely scaffold. + But here, + Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell! + + [_Goes to the table and takes the goblet up_.] + + What, art thou empty? + + [_Throws it to the ground_.] + + O thou churlish gaoler, + Even of poisons niggard! + +DUCHESS [_faintly_] + + Blame him not. + +GUIDO + + O God! you have not drunk it, Beatrice? + Tell me you have not? + +DUCHESS + + Were I to deny it, + There is a fire eating at my heart + Which would find utterance. + +GUIDO + + O treacherous love, + Why have you not left a drop for me? + +DUCHESS + + No, no, it held but death enough for one. + +GUIDO + + Is there no poison still upon your lips, + That I may draw it from them? + +DUCHESS + + Why should you die? + You have not spilt blood, and so need not die: + I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die. + Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood? + Who said that? I forget. + +GUIDO + + Tarry for me, + Our souls will go together. + +DUCHESS + + Nay, you must live. + There are many other women in the world + Who will love you, and not murder for your sake. + +GUIDO + + I love you only. + +DUCHESS + + You need not die for that. + +GUIDO + + Ah, if we die together, love, why then + Can we not lie together in one grave? + +DUCHESS + + A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed. + +GUIDO + + It is enough for us + +DUCHESS + + And they will strew it + With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs: + I think there are no roses in the grave, + Or if there are, they all are withered now + Since my Lord went there. + +GUIDO + + Ah! dear Beatrice, + Your lips are roses that death cannot wither. + +DUCHESS + + Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips + Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes + Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms, + Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart? + +GUIDO + + I do not care: Death has no power on love. + And so by Love’s immortal sovereignty + I will die with you. + +DUCHESS + + But the grave is black, + And the pit black, so I must go before + To light the candles for your coming hither. + No, no, I will not die, I will not die. + Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave; + Stand between me and the angel of death, + And wrestle with him for me. + + [_Thrusts_ GUIDO _in front of her with his back to the audience_.] + + I will kiss you, + When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial, + To stay the workings of this poison in me? + Are there no rivers left in Italy + That you will not fetch me one cup of water + To quench this fire? + +GUIDO + + O God! + +DUCHESS + + You did not tell me + There was a drought in Italy, and no water: + Nothing but fire. + +GUIDO + + O Love! + +DUCHESS + + Send for a leech, + Not him who stanched my husband, but another + We have no time: send for a leech, I say: + There is an antidote against each poison, + And he will sell it if we give him money. + Tell him that I will give him Padua, + For one short hour of life: I will not die. + Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me, + This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know + It was such pain to die: I thought that life + Had taken all the agonies to itself; + It seems it is not so. + +GUIDO + + O damnéd stars + Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, and bid + The moon, your mistress, shine no more to-night. + +DUCHESS + + Guido, why are we here? I think this room + Is poorly furnished for a marriage chamber. + Let us get hence at once. Where are the horses? + We should be on our way to Venice now. + How cold the night is! We must ride faster. + + [_The Monks begin to chant outside_.] + + Music! It should be merrier; but grief + Is of the fashion now—I know not why. + You must not weep: do we not love each other?— + That is enough. Death, what do you here? + You were not bidden to this table, sir; + Away, we have no need of you: I tell you + It was in wine I pledged you, not in poison. + They lied who told you that I drank your poison. + It was spilt upon the ground, like my Lord’s blood; + You came too late. + +GUIDO + + Sweet, there is nothing there: + These things are only unreal shadows. + +DUCHESS + + Death, + Why do you tarry, get to the upper chamber; + The cold meats of my husband’s funeral feast + Are set for you; this is a wedding feast. + You are out of place, sir; and, besides, ’tis summer. + We do not need these heavy fires now, + You scorch us. + Oh, I am burned up, + Can you do nothing? Water, give me water, + Or else more poison. No: I feel no pain— + Is it not curious I should feel no pain?— + And Death has gone away, I am glad of that. + I thought he meant to part us. Tell me, Guido, + Are you not sorry that you ever saw me? + +GUIDO + + I swear I would not have lived otherwise. + Why, in this dull and common world of ours + Men have died looking for such moments as this + And have not found them. + +DUCHESS + + Then you are not sorry? + How strange that seems. + +GUIDO + + What, Beatrice, have I not + Stood face to face with beauty? That is enough + For one man’s life. Why, love, I could be merry; + I have been often sadder at a feast, + But who were sad at such a feast as this + When Love and Death are both our cup-bearers? + We love and die together. + +DUCHESS + + Oh, I have been + Guilty beyond all women, and indeed + Beyond all women punished. Do you think— + No, that could not be—Oh, do you think that love + Can wipe the bloody stain from off my hands, + Pour balm into my wounds, heal up my hurts, + And wash my scarlet sins as white as snow?— + For I have sinned. + +GUIDO + + They do not sin at all + Who sin for love. + +DUCHESS + + No, I have sinned, and yet + Perchance my sin will be forgiven me. + I have loved much + +[_They kiss each other now for the first time in this Act_, _when +suddenly the_ DUCHESS _leaps up in the dreadful spasm of death_, _tears +in agony at her dress_, _and finally_, _with face twisted and distorted +with pain_, _falls back dead in a chair_. GUIDO _seizing her dagger from +her belt_, _kills himself_; _and_, _as he falls across her knees_, +_clutches at the cloak which is on the back of the chair_, _and throws it +entirely over her_. _There is a little pause_. _Then down the passage +comes the tramp of Soldiers_; _the door is opened_, _and the_ LORD +JUSTICE, _the Headsman_, _and the Guard enter and see this figure +shrouded in black_, _and_ GUIDO _lying dead across her_. _The_ LORD +JUSTICE _rushes forward and drags the cloak off the_ DUCHESS, _whose face +is now the marble image of peace_, _the sign of God’s forgiveness_.] + + _Tableau_ + + CURTAIN + + * * * * * + + Printed by T. and A. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Duchess of Padua + A Play + + +Author: Oscar Wilde + + + +Release Date: October 26, 2014 [eBook #875] +[This file was first posted on April 9, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUCHESS OF PADUA*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1916 Methuen and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE<br /> +DUCHESS OF PADUA</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">A PLAY</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +OSCAR WILDE</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> +LONDON</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Fifth Edition</i></p> +<h2>THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY</h2> +<p>Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua</p> +<p>Beatrice, his Wife</p> +<p>Andreas Pollajuolo, Cardinal of Padua</p> +<p>Maffio Petrucci, Jeppo Vitellozzo, Taddeo Bardi } Gentlemen of +the Duke’s Household</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti, a Young Man</p> +<p>Ascanio Cristofano, his Friend</p> +<p>Count Moranzone, an Old Man</p> +<p>Bernardo Cavalcanti, Lord Justice of Padua</p> +<p>Hugo, the Headsman</p> +<p>Lucy, a Tire woman</p> +<p>Servants, Citizens, Soldiers, Monks, Falconers with their +hawks and dogs, etc.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">Place</span>: <i>Padua</i></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <i>The latter half of the +Sixteenth Century</i></p> +<h2>THE SCENES OF THE PLAY</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Act</span> I.</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>The Market Place of Padua</i> (25 <i>minutes</i>).</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Act</span> II.</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Room in the Duke’s Palace</i> (36 +<i>minutes</i>).</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Act</span> III.</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Corridor in the Duke’s Palace</i> (29 +<i>minutes</i>).</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Act</span> IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>The Hall of Justice</i> (31 <i>minutes</i>).</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Act</span> V.</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>The Dungeon</i> (25 <i>minutes</i>).</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Style of Architecture</i>: +Italian, Gothic and Romanesque.</p> +<h2>ACT I</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">SCENE</p> +<p><i>The Market Place of Padua at noon</i>; <i>in the background +is the great Cathedral of Padua</i>; <i>the architecture is +Romanesque</i>, <i>and wrought in black and white marbles</i>; +<i>a flight of marble steps leads up to the Cathedral door</i>; +<i>at the foot of the steps are two large stone lions</i>; <i>the +houses on each aide of the stage have coloured awnings from their +windows</i>, <i>and are flanked by stone arcades</i>; <i>on the +right of the stage is the public fountain</i>, <i>with a triton +in green bronze blowing from a conch</i>; <i>around the fountain +is a stone seat</i>; <i>the bell of the Cathedral is ringing</i>, +<i>and the citizens</i>, <i>men</i>, <i>women and children</i>, +<i>are passing into the Cathedral</i>.</p> +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Guido Ferranti</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ascanio Cristofano</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Now by my life, Guido, I will go no farther; +for if I walk another step I will have no life left to swear by; +this wild-goose errand of yours!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Sits down on the step of the +fountain</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I think it must be here. [<i>Goes up to +passer-by and doffs his cap</i>.] Pray, sir, is this the +market place, and that the church of Santa Croce? +[<i>Citizen bows</i>.] I thank you, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! it is here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I would it were somewhere else, for I see no +wine-shop.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">[<i>Taking a letter from his pocket and reading +it</i>.] ‘The hour noon; the city, Padua; the place, +the market; and the day, Saint Philip’s Day.’</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And what of the man, how shall we know him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>reading still</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">‘I will wear a violet cloak with a silver +falcon broidered on the shoulder.’ A brave attire, +Ascanio.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I’d sooner have my leathern jerkin. +And you think he will tell you of your father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you +remember; I was in the vineyard, just at the corner nearest the +road, where the goats used to get in, a man rode up and asked me +was my name Guido, and gave me this letter, signed ‘Your +Father’s Friend,’ bidding me be here to-day if I +would know the secret of my birth, and telling me how to +recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my +uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left a +child in his charge by some one he had never since seen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And you don’t know who your father +is?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No recollection of him even?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">None, Ascanio, none.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span> [<i>laughing</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Then he could never have boxed your ears so +often as my father did mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>smiling</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I am sure you never deserved it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Never; and that made it worse. I +hadn’t the consciousness of guilt to buoy me up. What +hour did you say he fixed?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Noon.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Clock in the Cathedral +strikes</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is that now, and your man has not +come. I don’t believe in him, Guido. I think it +is some wench who has set her eye at you; and, as I have followed +you from Perugia to Padua, I swear you shall follow me to the +nearest tavern. [<i>Rises</i>.] By the great gods of +eating, Guido, I am as hungry as a widow is for a husband, as +tired as a young maid is of good advice, and as dry as a +monk’s sermon. Come, Guido, you stand there looking +at nothing, like the fool who tried to look into his own mind; +your man will not come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, I suppose you are right. Ah! +[<i>Just as he is leaving the stage with</i> <span +class="smcap">Ascanio</span>, <i>enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Moranzone</span> <i>in a violet cloak</i>, +<i>with a silver falcon broidered on the shoulder</i>; <i>he +passes across to the Cathedral</i>, <i>and just as he is going +in</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>runs up and touches +him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti, thou hast come in time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What! Does my father live?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! lives in thee.<br /> +Thou art the same in mould and lineament,<br /> +Carriage and form, and outward semblances;<br /> +I trust thou art in noble mind the same.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, tell me of my father; I have lived<br /> +But for this moment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">We must be alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This is my dearest friend, who out of love<br +/> +Has followed me to Padua; as two brothers,<br /> +There is no secret which we do not share.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is one secret which ye shall not +share;<br /> +Bid him go hence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>to</i> <span +class="smcap">Ascanio</span>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Come back within the hour.<br /> +He does not know that nothing in this world<br /> +Can dim the perfect mirror of our love.<br /> +Within the hour come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Speak not to him,<br /> +There is a dreadful terror in his look.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>laughing</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, nay, I doubt not that he has come to +tell<br /> +That I am some great Lord of Italy,<br /> +And we will have long days of joy together.<br /> +Within the hour, dear Ascanio.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Ascanio</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Now tell me of my father? [<i>Sits down +on a stone seat</i>.]<br /> +Stood he tall?<br /> +I warrant he looked tall upon his horse.<br /> +His hair was black? or perhaps a reddish gold,<br /> +Like a red fire of gold? Was his voice low?<br /> +The very bravest men have voices sometimes<br /> +Full of low music; or a clarion was it<br /> +That brake with terror all his enemies?<br /> +Did he ride singly? or with many squires<br /> +And valiant gentlemen to serve his state?<br /> +For oftentimes methinks I feel my veins<br /> +Beat with the blood of kings. Was he a king?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, of all men he was the kingliest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>proudly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Then when you saw my noble father last<br /> +He was set high above the heads of men?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, he was high above the heads of men,</p> +<p>[<i>Walks over to</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>and +puts his hand upon his shoulder</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">On a red scaffold, with a butcher’s +block<br /> +Set for his neck.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>leaping up</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">What dreadful man art thou,<br /> +That like a raven, or the midnight owl,<br /> +Com’st with this awful message from the grave?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I am known here as the Count Moranzone,<br /> +Lord of a barren castle on a rock,<br /> +With a few acres of unkindly land<br /> +And six not thrifty servants. But I was one<br /> +Of Parma’s noblest princes; more than that,<br /> +I was your father’s friend.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>clasping his +hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Tell me of him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You are the son of that great Duke Lorenzo,<br +/> +He was the Prince of Parma, and the Duke<br /> +Of all the fair domains of Lombardy<br /> +Down to the gates of Florence; nay, Florence even<br /> +Was wont to pay him tribute—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Come to his death.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You will hear that soon enough. Being at +war—<br /> +O noble lion of war, that would not suffer<br /> +Injustice done in Italy!—he led<br /> +The very flower of chivalry against<br /> +That foul adulterous Lord of Rimini,<br /> +Giovanni Malatesta—whom God curse!<br /> +And was by him in treacherous ambush taken,<br /> +And like a villain, or a low-born knave,<br /> +Was by him on the public scaffold murdered.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>clutching his +dagger</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Doth Malatesta live?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, he is dead.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Did you say dead? O too swift runner, +Death,<br /> +Couldst thou not wait for me a little space,<br /> +And I had done thy bidding!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>clutching his +wrist</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou canst do it!<br /> +The man who sold thy father is alive.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sold! was my father sold?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! trafficked for,<br /> +Like a vile chattel, for a price betrayed,<br /> +Bartered and bargained for in privy market<br /> +By one whom he had held his perfect friend,<br /> +One he had trusted, one he had well loved,<br /> +One whom by ties of kindness he had bound—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And he lives<br /> +Who sold my father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will bring you to him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will +make<br /> +This world thy field of blood, so buy it straight-way,<br /> +For thou must hang there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Judas said you, boy?<br /> +Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still<br /> +He was more wise than Judas was, and held<br /> +Those thirty silver pieces not enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What got he for my father’s blood?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What got he?<br /> +Why cities, fiefs, and principalities,<br /> +Vineyards, and lands.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Of which he shall but keep<br /> +Six feet of ground to rot in. Where is he,<br /> +This damned villain, this foul devil? where?<br /> +Show me the man, and come he cased in steel,<br /> +In complete panoply and pride of war,<br /> +Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms,<br /> +Yet I shall reach him through their spears, and feel<br /> +The last black drop of blood from his black heart<br /> +Crawl down my blade. Show me the man, I say,<br /> +And I will kill him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>coldly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Fool, what revenge is there?<br /> +Death is the common heritage of all,<br /> +And death comes best when it comes suddenly.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Goes up close to</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Your father was betrayed, there is your cue;<br +/> +For you shall sell the seller in his turn.<br /> +I will make you of his household, you shall sit<br /> +At the same board with him, eat of his bread—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O bitter bread!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thy palate is too nice,<br /> +Revenge will make it sweet. Thou shalt o’ nights<br +/> +Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and be<br /> +His intimate, so he will fawn on thee,<br /> +Love thee, and trust thee in all secret things.<br /> +If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh,<br /> +And if it be his humour to be sad<br /> +Thou shalt don sables. Then when the time is +ripe—</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<span class="smcap">Guido</span> +<i>clutches his sword</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, nay, I trust thee not; your hot young +blood,<br /> +Undisciplined nature, and too violent rage<br /> +Will never tarry for this great revenge,<br /> +But wreck itself on passion.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou knowest me not.<br /> +Tell me the man, and I in everything<br /> +Will do thy bidding.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, when the time is ripe,<br /> +The victim trusting and the occasion sure,<br /> +I will by sudden secret messenger<br /> +Send thee a sign.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">How shall I kill him, tell me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That night thou shalt creep into his private +chamber;<br /> +But if he sleep see that thou wake him first,<br /> +And hold thy hand upon his throat, ay! that way,<br /> +Then having told him of what blood thou art,<br /> +Sprung from what father, and for what revenge,<br /> +Bid him to pray for mercy; when he prays,<br /> +Bid him to set a price upon his life,<br /> +And when he strips himself of all his gold<br /> +Tell him thou needest not gold, and hast not mercy,<br /> +And do thy business straight away. Swear to me<br /> +Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it,<br /> +Or else I go to mine own house, and leave<br /> +Thee ignorant, and thy father unavenged.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Now by my father’s sword—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The common hangman<br /> +Brake that in sunder in the public square.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Then by my father’s grave—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What grave? what grave?<br /> +Your noble father lieth in no grave,<br /> +I saw his dust strewn on the air, his ashes<br /> +Whirled through the windy streets like common straws<br /> +To plague a beggar’s eyesight, and his head,<br /> +That gentle head, set on the prison spike,<br /> +For the vile rabble in their insolence<br /> +To shoot their tongues at.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Was it so indeed?<br /> +Then by my father’s spotless memory,<br /> +And by the shameful manner of his death,<br /> +And by the base betrayal by his friend,<br /> +For these at least remain, by these I swear<br /> +I will not lay my hand upon his life<br /> +Until you bid me, then—God help his soul,<br /> +For he shall die as never dog died yet.<br /> +And now, the sign, what is it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This dagger, boy;<br /> +It was your father’s.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, let me look at it!<br /> +I do remember now my reputed uncle,<br /> +That good old husbandman I left at home,<br /> +Told me a cloak wrapped round me when a babe<br /> +Bare too such yellow leopards wrought in gold;<br /> +I like them best in steel, as they are here,<br /> +They suit my purpose better. Tell me, sir,<br /> +Have you no message from my father to me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Poor boy, you never saw that noble father,<br +/> +For when by his false friend he had been sold,<br /> +Alone of all his gentlemen I escaped<br /> +To bear the news to Parma to the Duchess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Speak to me of my mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">When thy mother<br /> +Heard my black news, she fell into a swoon,<br /> +And, being with untimely travail seized—<br /> +Bare thee into the world before thy time,<br /> +And then her soul went heavenward, to wait<br /> +Thy father, at the gates of Paradise.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A mother dead, a father sold and bartered!<br +/> +I seem to stand on some beleaguered wall,<br /> +And messenger comes after messenger<br /> +With a new tale of terror; give me breath,<br /> +Mine ears are tired.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">When thy mother died,<br /> +Fearing our enemies, I gave it out<br /> +Thou wert dead also, and then privily<br /> +Conveyed thee to an ancient servitor,<br /> +Who by Perugia lived; the rest thou knowest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Saw you my father afterwards?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! once;<br /> +In mean attire, like a vineyard dresser,<br /> +I stole to Rimini.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>taking his hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O generous heart!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">One can buy everything in Rimini,<br /> +And so I bought the gaolers! when your father<br /> +Heard that a man child had been born to him,<br /> +His noble face lit up beneath his helm<br /> +Like a great fire seen far out at sea,<br /> +And taking my two hands, he bade me, Guido,<br /> +To rear you worthy of him; so I have reared you<br /> +To revenge his death upon the friend who sold him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou hast done well; I for my father thank +thee.<br /> +And now his name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">How you remind me of him,<br /> +You have each gesture that your father had.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The traitor’s name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou wilt hear that anon;<br /> +The Duke and other nobles at the Court<br /> +Are coming hither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What of that? his name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Do they not seem a valiant company<br /> +Of honourable, honest gentlemen?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">His name, milord?</p> +<p>[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Duke of Padua</span> +<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span>, <span +class="smcap">Maffio</span>, <span class="smcap">Petrucci</span>, +<i>and other gentlemen of his Court</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>quickly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The man to whom I kneel<br /> +Is he who sold your father! mark me well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>clutches hit +dagger</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The Duke!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Leave off that fingering of thy knife.<br /> +Hast thou so soon forgotten? [<i>Kneels to the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duke</span>.]<br /> +My noble Lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Welcome, Count Moranzone; ’tis some +time<br /> +Since we have seen you here in Padua.<br /> +We hunted near your castle yesterday—<br /> +Call you it castle? that bleak house of yours<br /> +Wherein you sit a-mumbling o’er your beads,<br /> +Telling your vices like a good old man.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Catches sight of</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>and starts back</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Who is that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My sister’s son, your Grace,<br /> +Who being now of age to carry arms,<br /> +Would for a season tarry at your Court</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>still looking at</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>]</p> +<p class="poetry">What is his name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">His city?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He is Mantuan by birth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>advancing towards</i> +<span class="smcap">Guido</span>]</p> +<p class="poetry">You have the eyes of one I used to know,<br /> +But he died childless. Are you honest, boy?<br /> +Then be not spendthrift of your honesty,<br /> +But keep it to yourself; in Padua<br /> +Men think that honesty is ostentatious, so<br /> +It is not of the fashion. Look at these lords.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Here is some bitter arrow for us, sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, every man among them has his price,<br /> +Although, to do them justice, some of them<br /> +Are quite expensive.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">There it comes indeed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So be not honest; eccentricity<br /> +Is not a thing should ever be encouraged,<br /> +Although, in this dull stupid age of ours,<br /> +The most eccentric thing a man can do<br /> +Is to have brains, then the mob mocks at him;<br /> +And for the mob, despise it as I do,<br /> +I hold its bubble praise and windy favours<br /> +In such account, that popularity<br /> +Is the one insult I have never suffered.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">He has enough of hate, if he needs that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have prudence; in your dealings with the +world<br /> +Be not too hasty; act on the second thought,<br /> +First impulses are generally good.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Surely a toad sits on his lips, and spills its +venom there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">See thou hast enemies,<br /> +Else will the world think very little of thee;<br /> +It is its test of power; yet see thou show’st<br /> +A smiling mask of friendship to all men,<br /> +Until thou hast them safely in thy grip,<br /> +Then thou canst crush them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O wise philosopher!<br /> +That for thyself dost dig so deep a grave.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>to him</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Dost thou mark his words?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, be thou sure I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And be not over-scrupulous; clean hands<br /> +With nothing in them make a sorry show.<br /> +If you would have the lion’s share of life<br /> +You must wear the fox’s skin. Oh, it will fit you;<br +/> +It is a coat which fitteth every man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace, I shall remember.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That is well, boy, well.<br /> +I would not have about me shallow fools,<br /> +Who with mean scruples weigh the gold of life,<br /> +And faltering, paltering, end by failure; failure,<br /> +The only crime which I have not committed:<br /> +I would have <i>men</i> about me. As for conscience,<br /> +Conscience is but the name which cowardice<br /> +Fleeing from battle scrawls upon its shield.<br /> +You understand me, boy?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do, your Grace,<br /> +And will in all things carry out the creed<br /> +Which you have taught me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I never heard your Grace<br /> +So much in the vein for preaching; let the Cardinal<br /> +Look to his laurels, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The Cardinal!<br /> +Men follow my creed, and they gabble his.<br /> +I do not think much of the Cardinal;<br /> +Although he is a holy churchman, and<br /> +I quite admit his dulness. Well, sir, from now<br /> +We count you of our household</p> +<p>[<i>He holds out his hand for</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>to kiss</i>. <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>starts back in horror</i>, <i>but +at a gesture from</i> <span class="smcap">Count Moranzone</span>, +<i>kneels and kisses it</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">We will see<br /> +That you are furnished with such equipage<br /> +As doth befit your honour and our state.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I thank your Grace most heartily.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tell me again<br /> +What is your name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And you are Mantuan? Look to your wives, +my lords,<br /> +When such a gallant comes to Padua.<br /> +Thou dost well to laugh, Count Bardi; I have noted<br /> +How merry is that husband by whose hearth<br /> +Sits an uncomely wife.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">May it please your Grace,<br /> +The wives of Padua are above suspicion.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, are they so ill-favoured! Let us +go,<br /> +This Cardinal detains our pious Duchess;<br /> +His sermon and his beard want cutting both:<br /> +Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text<br /> +From holy Jerome?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>bowing</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">My liege, there are some matters—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>interrupting</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou need’st make no excuse for missing +mass.<br /> +Come, gentlemen.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit with his suite into +Cathedral</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>after a pause</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">So the Duke sold my father;<br /> +I kissed his hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou shalt do that many times.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Must it be so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! thou hast sworn an oath.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That oath shall make me marble.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell, boy,<br /> +Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I pray thou comest quickly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will come<br /> +When it is time; be ready.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Fear me not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Here is your friend; see that you banish him<br +/> +Both from your heart and Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">From Padua,<br /> +Not from my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, from thy heart as well,<br /> +I will not leave thee till I see thee do it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Can I have no friend?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Revenge shall be thy friend;<br /> +Thou need’st no other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, then be it so.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Ascanio Cristofano</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in +everything, for I have drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and +kissed the maid who served it. Why, you look as melancholy +as a schoolboy who cannot buy apples, or a politician who cannot +sell his vote. What news, Guido, what news?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, that we two must part, Ascanio.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That would be news indeed, but it is not +true.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio,<br +/> +And never look upon my face again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido;<br /> +’Tis true I am a common yeoman’s son,<br /> +Nor versed in fashions of much courtesy;<br /> +But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be<br /> +Your serving man? I will tend you with more love<br /> +Than any hired servant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>clasping his +hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ascanio!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Sees</i> <span +class="smcap">Moranzone</span> <i>looking at him and drops</i> +<span class="smcap">Ascanio’s</span> <i>hand</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">It cannot be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, is it so with you?<br /> +I thought the friendship of the antique world<br /> +Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type<br /> +Might even in this poor and common age<br /> +Find counterparts of love; then by this love<br /> +Which beats between us like a summer sea,<br /> +Whatever lot has fallen to your hand<br /> +May I not share it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Share it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have you then come to some inheritance<br /> +Of lordly castle, or of stored-up gold?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>bitterly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! I have come to my inheritance.<br /> +O bloody legacy! and O murderous dole!<br /> +Which, like the thrifty miser, must I hoard,<br /> +And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you,<br /> +Let us part here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, shall we never more<br /> +Sit hand in hand, as we were wont to sit,<br /> +Over some book of ancient chivalry<br /> +Stealing a truant holiday from school,<br /> +Follow the huntsmen through the autumn woods,<br /> +And watch the falcons burst their tasselled jesses,<br /> +When the hare breaks from covert.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Never more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Must I go hence without a word of love?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You must go hence, and may love go with +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You are unknightly, and ungenerous.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Unknightly and ungenerous if you will.<br /> +Why should we waste more words about the matter<br /> +Let us part now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have you no message, Guido?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">None; my whole past was but a schoolboy’s +dream;<br /> +To-day my life begins. Farewell.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ascanio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell [<i>exit slowly</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Now are you satisfied? Have you not +seen<br /> +My dearest friend, and my most loved companion,<br /> +Thrust from me like a common kitchen knave!<br /> +Oh, that I did it! Are you not satisfied?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! I am satisfied. Now I go hence,<br /> +Do not forget the sign, your father’s dagger,<br /> +And do the business when I send it to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Be sure I shall. [<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Moranzone</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O thou eternal heaven!<br /> +If there is aught of nature in my soul,<br /> +Of gentle pity, or fond kindliness,<br /> +Wither it up, blast it, bring it to nothing,<br /> +Or if thou wilt not, then will I myself<br /> +Cut pity with a sharp knife from my heart<br /> +And strangle mercy in her sleep at night<br /> +Lest she speak to me. Vengeance there I have it.<br /> +Be thou my comrade and my bedfellow,<br /> +Sit by my side, ride to the chase with me,<br /> +When I am weary sing me pretty songs,<br /> +When I am light o’ heart, make jest with me,<br /> +And when I dream, whisper into my ear<br /> +The dreadful secret of a father’s murder—<br /> +Did I say murder? [<i>Draws his dagger</i>.]<br /> +Listen, thou terrible God!<br /> +Thou God that punishest all broken oaths,<br /> +And bid some angel write this oath in fire,<br /> +That from this hour, till my dear father’s murder<br /> +In blood I have revenged, I do forswear<br /> +The noble ties of honourable friendship,<br /> +The noble joys of dear companionship,<br /> +Affection’s bonds, and loyal gratitude,<br /> +Ay, more, from this same hour I do forswear<br /> +All love of women, and the barren thing<br /> +Which men call beauty—</p> +<p>[<i>The organ peals in the Cathedral</i>, <i>and under a +canopy of cloth of silver tissue</i>, <i>borne by four pages in +scarlet</i>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess of +Padua</span> <i>comes down the steps</i>; <i>as she passes across +their eyes meet for a moment</i>, <i>and as she leaves the stage +she looks back at</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>and +the dagger falls from his hand</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! who is that?</p> +<p>A <span class="smcap">Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The Duchess of Padua!</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">END OF ACT +I.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>ACT II</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">SCENE</p> +<p><i>A state room in the Ducal Palace</i>, <i>hung with +tapestries representing the Masque of Venus</i>; <i>a large door +in the centre opens into a corridor of red marble</i>, <i>through +which one can see a view of Padua</i>; <i>a large canopy is +set</i> (<i>R.C.</i>) <i>with three thrones</i>, <i>one a little +lower than the others</i>; <i>the ceiling is made of long gilded +beams</i>; <i>furniture of the period</i>, <i>chairs covered with +gilt leather</i>, <i>and buffets set with gold and silver +plate</i>, <i>and chests painted with mythological +scenes</i>. <i>A number of the courtiers is out on the +corridor looking from it down into the street below</i>; <i>from +the street comes the roar of a mob and cries of</i> +‘<i>Death to the Duke</i>’: <i>after a little +interval enter the Duke very calmly</i>; <i>he is leaning on the +arm of Guido Ferranti</i>; <i>with him enters also the Lord +Cardinal</i>; <i>the mob still shouting</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her!<br /> +Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span> [<i>excitedly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace, there are two thousand people +there<br /> +Who every moment grow more clamorous.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their +lungs!<br /> +People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing;<br /> +The only men I fear are silent men.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>A yell from the people</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love +me.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Another yell</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Go, Petrucci,<br /> +And tell the captain of the guard below<br /> +To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir?<br /> +Do what I bid you.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Petrucci</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I beseech your Grace<br /> +To listen to their grievances.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>sitting on his +throne</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! the peaches<br /> +Are not so big this year as they were last.<br /> +I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal,<br /> +I thought you spake of peaches.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>A cheer from the +people</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">What is that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>rushes to the +window</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The Duchess has gone forth into the square,<br +/> +And stands between the people and the guard,<br /> +And will not let them shoot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The devil take her!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>still at the +window</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">And followed by a dozen of the citizens<br /> +Has come into the Palace.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>starting up</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">By Saint James,<br /> +Our Duchess waxes bold!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Bardi</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Here comes the Duchess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Shut that door there; this morning air is +cold.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>They close the door on the +corridor</i>.]</p> +<p>[<i>Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed +Citizens</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>flinging herself upon +her knees</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I do beseech your Grace to give us +audience.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What are these grievances?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas, my Lord,<br /> +Such common things as neither you nor I,<br /> +Nor any of these noble gentlemen,<br /> +Have ever need at all to think about;<br /> +They say the bread, the very bread they eat,<br /> +Is made of sorry chaff.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! so it is,<br /> +Nothing but chaff.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And very good food too,<br /> +I give it to my horses.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>restraining +herself</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">They say the water,<br /> +Set in the public cisterns for their use,<br /> +[Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,]<br /> +To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They should drink wine; water is quite +unwholesome.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the +customs<br /> +Take at the city gate are grown so high<br /> +We cannot buy wine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Then you should bless the taxes</p> +<p class="poetry">Which make you temperate.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Think, while we sit<br /> +In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty<br /> +Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives<br /> +Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily<br /> +And no word said.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! marry, that is true,<br /> +My little son died yesternight from hunger;<br /> +He was but six years old; I am so poor,<br /> +I cannot bury him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If you are poor,<br /> +Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty<br /> +Is one of the Christian virtues,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Turns to the</i> <span +class="smcap">Cardinal</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Is it not?<br /> +I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues,<br /> +Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates<br /> +For preaching voluntary poverty.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous;<br /> +While we sit here within a noble house<br /> +[With shaded porticoes against the sun,<br /> +And walls and roofs to keep the winter out],<br /> +There are many citizens of Padua<br /> +Who in vile tenements live so full of holes,<br /> +That the chill rain, the snow, and the rude blast,<br /> +Are tenants also with them; others sleep<br /> +Under the arches of the public bridges<br /> +All through the autumn nights, till the wet mist<br /> +Stiffens their limbs, and fevers come, and so—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And so they go to Abraham’s bosom, +Madam.<br /> +They should thank me for sending them to Heaven,<br /> +If they are wretched here. [<i>To the</i> <span +class="smcap">Cardinal</span>.]<br /> +Is it not said<br /> +Somewhere in Holy Writ, that every man<br /> +Should be contented with that state of life<br /> +God calls him to? Why should I change their state,<br /> +Or meddle with an all-wise providence,<br /> +Which has apportioned that some men should starve,<br /> +And others surfeit? I did not make the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He hath a hard heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, be silent, neighbour;<br /> +I think the Cardinal will speak for us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">True, it is Christian to bear misery,<br /> +Yet it is Christian also to be kind,<br /> +And there seem many evils in this town,<br /> +Which in your wisdom might your Grace reform.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What is that word reform? What does it +mean?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, it means leaving things as they are; I +like it not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Reform Lord Cardinal, did <i>you</i> say +reform?<br /> +There is a man in Germany called Luther,<br /> +Who would reform the Holy Catholic Church.<br /> +Have you not made him heretic, and uttered<br /> +Anathema, maranatha, against him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span> [<i>rising from his +seat</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">He would have led the sheep out of the fold,<br +/> +We do but ask of you to feed the sheep.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed +them.<br /> +As for these rebels— [<span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>entreats him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That is a kind word,<br /> +He means to give us something.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is that so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">These ragged knaves who come before us here,<br +/> +With mouths chock-full of treason.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Good my Lord,<br /> +Fill up our mouths with bread; we’ll hold our tongues.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve +or not.<br /> +My lords, this age is so familiar grown,<br /> +That the low peasant hardly doffs his hat,<br /> +Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic<br /> +Elbows the noble in the public streets.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>To the Citizens</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Still as our gentle Duchess has so prayed +us,<br /> +And to refuse so beautiful a beggar<br /> +Were to lack both courtesy and love,<br /> +Touching your grievances, I promise this—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, he will lighten the taxes!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Or a dole of bread, think you, for each +man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That, on next Sunday, the Lord Cardinal<br /> +Shall, after Holy Mass, preach you a sermon<br /> +Upon the Beauty of Obedience.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Citizens murmur</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I’ faith, that will not fill our +stomachs!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A sermon is but a sorry sauce, when<br /> +You have nothing to eat with it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Poor people,<br /> +You see I have no power with the Duke,<br /> +But if you go into the court without,<br /> +My almoner shall from my private purse,<br /> +Divide a hundred ducats ’mongst you all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">God save the Duchess, say I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">God save her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And every Monday morn shall bread be set<br /> +For those who lack it.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Citizens applaud and go +out</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span> [<i>going +out</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why, God save the Duchess again!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>calling him back</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Come hither, fellow! what is your name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Dominick, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A good name! Why were you called +Dominick?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span> [<i>scratching his +head</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, because I was born on St. George’s +day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A good reason! here is a ducat for you!<br /> +Will you not cry for me God save the Duke?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span> [<i>feebly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">God save the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay! louder, fellow, louder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span> [<i>a little +louder</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">God save the Duke!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">More lustily, fellow, put more heart in it!<br +/> +Here is another ducat for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span> +[<i>enthusiastically</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">God save the Duke!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>mockingly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why, gentlemen, this simple fellow’s +love<br /> +Touches me much. [<i>To the Citizen</i>, +<i>harshly</i>.]<br /> +Go! [<i>Exit Citizen</i>, <i>bowing</i>.]<br /> +This is the way, my lords,<br /> +You can buy popularity nowadays.<br /> +Oh, we are nothing if not democratic!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>To the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Well, Madam,<br /> +You spread rebellion ’midst our citizens.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My Lord, the poor have rights you cannot +touch,<br /> +The right to pity, and the right to mercy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So, so, you argue with me? This is +she,<br /> +The gentle Duchess for whose hand I yielded<br /> +Three of the fairest towns in Italy,<br /> +Pisa, and Genoa, and Orvieto.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Promised, my Lord, not yielded: in that +matter<br /> +Brake you your word as ever.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You wrong us, Madam,<br /> +There were state reasons.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What state reasons are there<br /> +For breaking holy promises to a state?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There are wild boars at Pisa in a forest<br /> +Close to the city: when I promised Pisa<br /> +Unto your noble and most trusting father,<br /> +I had forgotten there was hunting there.<br /> +At Genoa they say,<br /> +Indeed I doubt them not, that the red mullet<br /> +Runs larger in the harbour of that town<br /> +Than anywhere in Italy.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Turning to one of the +Court</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">You, my lord,<br /> +Whose gluttonous appetite is your only god,<br /> +Could satisfy our Duchess on that point.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And Orvieto?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>yawning</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I cannot now recall<br /> +Why I did not surrender Orvieto<br /> +According to the word of my contract.<br /> +Maybe it was because I did not choose.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Goes over to the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why look you, Madam, you are here alone;<br /> +’Tis many a dusty league to your grey France,<br /> +And even there your father barely keeps<br /> +A hundred ragged squires for his Court.<br /> +What hope have you, I say? Which of these lords<br /> +And noble gentlemen of Padua<br /> +Stands by your side.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is not one.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<span class="smcap">Guido</span> +<i>starts</i>, <i>but restrains himself</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nor shall be,<br /> +While I am Duke in Padua: listen, Madam,<br /> +Being mine own, you shall do as I will,<br /> +And if it be my will you keep the house,<br /> +Why then, this palace shall your prison be;<br /> +And if it be my will you walk abroad,<br /> +Why, you shall take the air from morn to night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sir, by what right—?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, my second Duchess<br /> +Asked the same question once: her monument<br /> +Lies in the chapel of Bartholomew,<br /> +Wrought in red marble; very beautiful.<br /> +Guido, your arm. Come, gentlemen, let us go<br /> +And spur our falcons for the mid-day chase.<br /> +Bethink you, Madam, you are here alone.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Exit the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>leaning on</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>with his Court</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>looking after +them</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The Duke said rightly that I was alone;<br /> +Deserted, and dishonoured, and defamed,<br /> +Stood ever woman so alone indeed?<br /> +Men when they woo us call us pretty children,<br /> +Tell us we have not wit to make our lives,<br /> +And so they mar them for us. Did I say woo?<br /> +We are their chattels, and their common slaves,<br /> +Less dear than the poor hound that licks their hand,<br /> +Less fondled than the hawk upon their wrist.<br /> +Woo, did I say? bought rather, sold and bartered,<br /> +Our very bodies being merchandise.<br /> +I know it is the general lot of women,<br /> +Each miserably mated to some man<br /> +Wrecks her own life upon his selfishness:<br /> +That it is general makes it not less bitter.<br /> +I think I never heard a woman laugh,<br /> +Laugh for pure merriment, except one woman,<br /> +That was at night time, in the public streets.<br /> +Poor soul, she walked with painted lips, and wore<br /> +The mask of pleasure: I would not laugh like her;<br /> +No, death were better.</p> +<p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>behind +unobserved</i>; <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> +<i>flings herself down before a picture of the Madonna</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">O Mary mother, with your sweet pale face<br /> +Bending between the little angel heads<br /> +That hover round you, have you no help for me?<br /> +Mother of God, have you no help for me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I can endure no longer.<br /> +This is my love, and I will speak to her.<br /> +Lady, am I a stranger to your prayers?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>rising</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">None but the wretched needs my prayers, my +lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Then must I need them, lady.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">How is that?<br /> +Does not the Duke show thee sufficient honour?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace, I lack no favours from the Duke,<br +/> +Whom my soul loathes as I loathe wickedness,<br /> +But come to proffer on my bended knees,<br /> +My loyal service to thee unto death.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! I am so fallen in estate<br /> +I can but give thee a poor meed of thanks.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>seizing her hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Hast thou no love to give me?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>starts</i>, <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>falls at her feet</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">O dear saint,<br /> +If I have been too daring, pardon me!<br /> +Thy beauty sets my boyish blood aflame,<br /> +And, when my reverent lips touch thy white hand,<br /> +Each little nerve with such wild passion thrills<br /> +That there is nothing which I would not do<br /> +To gain thy love. [<i>Leaps up</i>.]<br /> +Bid me reach forth and pluck<br /> +Perilous honour from the lion’s jaws,<br /> +And I will wrestle with the Nemean beast<br /> +On the bare desert! Fling to the cave of War<br /> +A gaud, a ribbon, a dead flower, something<br /> +That once has touched thee, and I’ll bring it back<br /> +Though all the hosts of Christendom were there,<br /> +Inviolate again! ay, more than this,<br /> +Set me to scale the pallid white-faced cliffs<br /> +Of mighty England, and from that arrogant shield<br /> +Will I raze out the lilies of your France<br /> +Which England, that sea-lion of the sea,<br /> +Hath taken from her!<br /> +O dear Beatrice,<br /> +Drive me not from thy presence! without thee<br /> +The heavy minutes crawl with feet of lead,<br /> +But, while I look upon thy loveliness,<br /> +The hours fly like winged Mercuries<br /> +And leave existence golden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I did not think<br /> +I should be ever loved: do you indeed<br /> +Love me so much as now you say you do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ask of the sea-bird if it loves the sea,<br /> +Ask of the roses if they love the rain,<br /> +Ask of the little lark, that will not sing<br /> +Till day break, if it loves to see the day:—<br /> +And yet, these are but empty images,<br /> +Mere shadows of my love, which is a fire<br /> +So great that all the waters of the main<br /> +Can not avail to quench it. Will you not speak?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I hardly know what I should say to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Will you not say you love me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is that my lesson?<br /> +Must I say all at once? ’Twere a good lesson<br /> +If I did love you, sir; but, if I do not,<br /> +What shall I say then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If you do not love me,<br /> +Say, none the less, you do, for on your tongue<br /> +Falsehood for very shame would turn to truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What if I do not speak at all? They +say<br /> +Lovers are happiest when they are in doubt</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, doubt would kill me, and if I must die,<br +/> +Why, let me die for joy and not for doubt.<br /> +Oh, tell me may I stay, or must I go?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I would not have you either stay or go;<br /> +For if you stay you steal my love from me,<br /> +And if you go you take my love away.<br /> +Guido, though all the morning stars could sing<br /> +They could not tell the measure of my love.<br /> +I love you, Guido.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>stretching out his +hands</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, do not cease at all;<br /> +I thought the nightingale sang but at night;<br /> +Or if thou needst must cease, then let my lips<br /> +Touch the sweet lips that can such music make.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">To touch my lips is not to touch my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Do you close that against me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! my lord,<br /> +I have it not: the first day that I saw you<br /> +I let you take my heart away from me;<br /> +Unwilling thief, that without meaning it<br /> +Did break into my fenced treasury<br /> +And filch my jewel from it! O strange theft,<br /> +Which made you richer though you knew it not,<br /> +And left me poorer, and yet glad of it!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>clasping her in his +arms</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O love, love, love! Nay, sweet, lift up +your head,<br /> +Let me unlock those little scarlet doors<br /> +That shut in music, let me dive for coral<br /> +In your red lips, and I’ll bear back a prize<br /> +Richer than all the gold the Gryphon guards<br /> +In rude Armenia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You are my lord,<br /> +And what I have is yours, and what I have not<br /> +Your fancy lends me, like a prodigal<br /> +Spending its wealth on what is nothing worth.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Kisses him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Methinks I am bold to look upon you thus:<br /> +The gentle violet hides beneath its leaf<br /> +And is afraid to look at the great sun<br /> +For fear of too much splendour, but my eyes,<br /> +O daring eyes! are grown so venturous<br /> +That like fixed stars they stand, gazing at you,<br /> +And surfeit sense with beauty.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Dear love, I would<br /> +You could look upon me ever, for your eyes<br /> +Are polished mirrors, and when I peer<br /> +Into those mirrors I can see myself,<br /> +And so I know my image lives in you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>taking her in his +arms</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Stand still, thou hurrying orb in the high +heavens,<br /> +And make this hour immortal! [<i>A pause</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sit down here,<br /> +A little lower than me: yes, just so, sweet,<br /> +That I may run my fingers through your hair,<br /> +And see your face turn upwards like a flower<br /> +To meet my kiss.<br /> +Have you not sometimes noted,<br /> +When we unlock some long-disuséd room<br /> +With heavy dust and soiling mildew filled,<br /> +Where never foot of man has come for years,<br /> +And from the windows take the rusty bar,<br /> +And fling the broken shutters to the air,<br /> +And let the bright sun in, how the good sun<br /> +Turns every grimy particle of dust<br /> +Into a little thing of dancing gold?<br /> +Guido, my heart is that long-empty room,<br /> +But you have let love in, and with its gold<br /> +Gilded all life. Do you not think that love<br /> +Fills up the sum of life?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! without love<br /> +Life is no better than the unhewn stone<br /> +Which in the quarry lies, before the sculptor<br /> +Has set the God within it. Without love<br /> +Life is as silent as the common reeds<br /> +That through the marshes or by rivers grow,<br /> +And have no music in them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Yet out of these<br /> +The singer, who is Love, will make a pipe<br /> +And from them he draws music; so I think<br /> +Love will bring music out of any life.<br /> +Is that not true?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet, women make it true.<br /> +There are men who paint pictures, and carve statues,<br /> +Paul of Verona and the dyer’s son,<br /> +Or their great rival, who, by the sea at Venice,<br /> +Has set God’s little maid upon the stair,<br /> +White as her own white lily, and as tall,<br /> +Or Raphael, whose Madonnas are divine<br /> +Because they are mothers merely; yet I think<br /> +Women are the best artists of the world,<br /> +For they can take the common lives of men<br /> +Soiled with the money-getting of our age,<br /> +And with love make them beautiful.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ah, dear,<br /> +I wish that you and I were very poor;<br /> +The poor, who love each other, are so rich.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tell me again you love me, Beatrice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>fingering his +collar</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">How well this collar lies about your +throat.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span class="smcap">Lord +Moranzone</span> <i>looks through the door from the corridor +outside</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, tell me that you love me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I remember,<br /> +That when I was a child in my dear France,<br /> +Being at Court at Fontainebleau, the King<br /> +Wore such a collar.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Will you not say you love me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>smiling</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">He was a very royal man, King Francis,<br /> +Yet he was not royal as you are.<br /> +Why need I tell you, Guido, that I love you?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Takes his head in her hands and +turns his face up to her</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you not know that I am yours for ever,<br /> +Body and soul?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Kisses him</i>, <i>and then +suddenly catches sight of</i> <span +class="smcap">Moranzone</span> <i>and leaps up</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, what is that? [<span +class="smcap">Moranzone</span> <i>disappears</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, love?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Methought I saw a face with eyes of flame<br /> +Look at us through the doorway.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, ’twas nothing:<br /> +The passing shadow of the man on guard.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>still stands looking at the +window</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas nothing, sweet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! what can harm us now,<br /> +Who are in Love’s hand? I do not think I’d +care<br /> +Though the vile world should with its lackey Slander<br /> +Trample and tread upon my life; why should I?<br /> +They say the common field-flowers of the field<br /> +Have sweeter scent when they are trodden on<br /> +Than when they bloom alone, and that some herbs<br /> +Which have no perfume, on being bruiséd die<br /> +With all Arabia round them; so it is<br /> +With the young lives this dull world seeks to crush,<br /> +It does but bring the sweetness out of them,<br /> +And makes them lovelier often. And besides,<br /> +While we have love we have the best of life:<br /> +Is it not so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Dear, shall we play or sing?<br /> +I think that I could sing now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Do not speak,<br /> +For there are times when all existences<br /> +Seem narrowed to one single ecstasy,<br /> +And Passion sets a seal upon the lips.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, with mine own lips let me break that +seal!<br /> +You love me, Beatrice?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! is it not strange<br /> +I should so love mine enemy?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who is he?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, you: that with your shaft did pierce my +heart!<br /> +Poor heart, that lived its little lonely life<br /> +Until it met your arrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ah, dear love,<br /> +I am so wounded by that bolt myself<br /> +That with untended wounds I lie a-dying,<br /> +Unless you cure me, dear Physician.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I would not have you cured; for I am sick<br /> +With the same malady.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, how I love you!<br /> +See, I must steal the cuckoo’s voice, and tell<br /> +The one tale over.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tell no other tale!<br /> +For, if that is the little cuckoo’s song,<br /> +The nightingale is hoarse, and the loud lark<br /> +Has lost its music.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Kiss me, Beatrice!</p> +<p>[<i>She takes his face in her hands and bends down and kisses +him</i>; <i>a loud knocking then comes at the door</i>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>leaps up</i>; +<i>enter a Servant</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Servant</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A package for you, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>carelessly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! give it to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">[<i>Servant hands package wrapped in vermilion +silk</i>, <i>and exit</i>; <i>as</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>is about to open it the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>comes up behind</i>, <i>and in +sport takes it from him</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>laughing</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Now I will wager it is from some girl<br /> +Who would have you wear her favour; I am so jealous<br /> +I will not give up the least part in you,<br /> +But like a miser keep you to myself,<br /> +And spoil you perhaps in keeping.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, it is from some girl.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You know ’tis not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>turns her back and +opens it</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, traitor, tell me what does this sign +mean,<br /> +A dagger with two leopards wrought in steel?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>taking it from +her</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I’ll from the window look, and try<br /> +If I can’t see the porter’s livery<br /> +Who left it at the gate! I will not rest<br /> +Till I have learned your secret.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Runs laughing into the +corridor</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, horrible!<br /> +Had I so soon forgot my father’s death,<br /> +Did I so soon let love into my heart,<br /> +And must I banish love, and let in murder<br /> +That beats and clamours at the outer gate?<br /> +Ay, that I must! Have I not sworn an oath?<br /> +Yet not to-night; nay, it must be to-night.<br /> +Farewell then all the joy and light of life,<br /> +All dear recorded memories, farewell,<br /> +Farewell all love! Could I with bloody hands<br /> +Fondle and paddle with her innocent hands?<br /> +Could I with lips fresh from this butchery<br /> +Play with her lips? Could I with murderous eyes<br /> +Look in those violet eyes, whose purity<br /> +Would strike men blind, and make each eyeball reel<br /> +In night perpetual? No, murder has set<br /> +A barrier between us far too high<br /> +For us to kiss across it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Beatrice,<br /> +You must forget that name, and banish me<br /> +Out of your life for ever.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>going towards +him</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O dear love!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>stepping back</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">There lies a barrier between us two<br /> +We dare not pass.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I dare do anything<br /> +So that you are beside me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! There it is,<br /> +I cannot be beside you, cannot breathe<br /> +The air you breathe; I cannot any more<br /> +Stand face to face with beauty, which unnerves<br /> +My shaking heart, and makes my desperate hand<br /> +Fail of its purpose. Let me go hence, I pray;<br /> +Forget you ever looked upon me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What!<br /> +With your hot kisses fresh upon my lips<br /> +Forget the vows of love you made to me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I take them back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas, you cannot, Guido,<br /> +For they are part of nature now; the air<br /> +Is tremulous with their music, and outside<br /> +The little birds sing sweeter for those vows.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There lies a barrier between us now,<br /> +Which then I knew not, or I had forgot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is no barrier, Guido; why, I will go<br +/> +In poor attire, and will follow you<br /> +Over the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>wildly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The world’s not wide enough<br /> +To hold us two! Farewell, farewell for ever.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>calm</i>, <i>and +controlling her passion</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why did you come into my life at all, then,<br +/> +Or in the desolate garden of my heart<br /> +Sow that white flower of love—?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O Beatrice!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Which now you would dig up, uproot, tear +out,<br /> +Though each small fibre doth so hold my heart<br /> +That if you break one, my heart breaks with it?<br /> +Why did you come into my life? Why open<br /> +The secret wells of love I had sealed up?<br /> +Why did you open them—?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>clenching her +hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">And let<br /> +The floodgates of my passion swell and burst<br /> +Till, like the wave when rivers overflow<br /> +That sweeps the forest and the farm away,<br /> +Love in the splendid avalanche of its might<br /> +Swept my life with it? Must I drop by drop<br /> +Gather these waters back and seal them up?<br /> +Alas! Each drop will be a tear, and so<br /> +Will with its saltness make life very bitter.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I pray you speak no more, for I must go<br /> +Forth from your life and love, and make a way<br /> +On which you cannot follow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I have heard<br /> +That sailors dying of thirst upon a raft,<br /> +Poor castaways upon a lonely sea,<br /> +Dream of green fields and pleasant water-courses,<br /> +And then wake up with red thirst in their throats,<br /> +And die more miserably because sleep<br /> +Has cheated them: so they die cursing sleep<br /> +For having sent them dreams: I will not curse you<br /> +Though I am cast away upon the sea<br /> +Which men call Desolation.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God, God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But you will stay: listen, I love you, +Guido.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>She waits a little</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Is echo dead, that when I say I love you<br /> +There is no answer?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Everything is dead,<br /> +Save one thing only, which shall die to-night!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If you are going, touch me not, but go.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Barrier! Barrier!<br /> +Why did he say there was a barrier?<br /> +There is no barrier between us two.<br /> +He lied to me, and shall I for that reason<br /> +Loathe what I love, and what I worshipped, hate?<br /> +I think we women do not love like that.<br /> +For if I cut his image from my heart,<br /> +My heart would, like a bleeding pilgrim, follow<br /> +That image through the world, and call it back<br /> +With little cries of love.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>equipped for the chase</i>, <i>with +falconers and hounds</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, you keep us waiting;<br /> +You keep my dogs waiting.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will not ride to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">How now, what’s this?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My Lord, I cannot go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, pale face, do you dare to stand against +me?<br /> +Why, I could set you on a sorry jade<br /> +And lead you through the town, till the low rabble<br /> +You feed toss up their hats and mock at you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have you no word of kindness ever for me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I hold you in the hollow of my hand<br /> +And have no need on you to waste kind words.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, I will go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span> [<i>slapping his boot with his +whip</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">No, I have changed my mind,<br /> +You will stay here, and like a faithful wife<br /> +Watch from the window for our coming back.<br /> +Were it not dreadful if some accident<br /> +By chance should happen to your loving Lord?<br /> +Come, gentlemen, my hounds begin to chafe,<br /> +And I chafe too, having a patient wife.<br /> +Where is young Guido?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My liege, I have not seen him<br /> +For a full hour past.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duke</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It matters not,<br /> +I dare say I shall see him soon enough.<br /> +Well, Madam, you will sit at home and spin.<br /> +I do protest, sirs, the domestic virtues<br /> +Are often very beautiful in others.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i> <span +class="smcap">Duke</span> <i>with his Court</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The stars have fought against me, that is +all,<br /> +And thus to-night when my Lord lieth asleep,<br /> +Will I fall upon my dagger, and so cease.<br /> +My heart is such a stone nothing can reach it<br /> +Except the dagger’s edge: let it go there,<br /> +To find what name it carries: ay! to-night<br /> +Death will divorce the Duke; and yet to-night<br /> +He may die also, he is very old.<br /> +Why should he not die? Yesterday his hand<br /> +Shook with a palsy: men have died from palsy,<br /> +And why not he? Are there not fevers also,<br /> +Agues and chills, and other maladies<br /> +Most incident to old age?<br /> +No, no, he will not die, he is too sinful;<br /> +Honest men die before their proper time.<br /> +Good men will die: men by whose side the Duke<br /> +In all the sick pollution of his life<br /> +Seems like a leper: women and children die,<br /> +But the Duke will not die, he is too sinful.<br /> +Oh, can it be<br /> +There is some immortality in sin,<br /> +Which virtue has not? And does the wicked man<br /> +Draw life from what to other men were death,<br /> +Like poisonous plants that on corruption live?<br /> +No, no, I think God would not suffer that:<br /> +Yet the Duke will not die: he is too sinful.<br /> +But I will die alone, and on this night<br /> +Grim Death shall be my bridegroom, and the tomb<br /> +My secret house of pleasure: well, what of that?<br /> +The world’s a graveyard, and we each, like coffins,<br /> +Within us bear a skeleton.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Moranzone</span> <i>all in black</i>; <i>he +passes across the back of the stage looking anxiously +about</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Where is Guido?<br /> +I cannot find him anywhere.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>catches sight of +him</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O God!<br /> +’Twas thou who took my love away from me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>with a look of +joy</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">What, has he left you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, you know he has.<br /> +Oh, give him back to me, give him back, I say,<br /> +Or I will tear your body limb from limb,<br /> +And to the common gibbet nail your head<br /> +Until the carrion crows have stripped it bare.<br /> +Better you had crossed a hungry lioness<br /> +Before you came between me and my love.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>With more pathos</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, give him back, you know not how I love +him.<br /> +Here by this chair he knelt a half hour since;<br /> +’Twas there he stood, and there he looked at me;<br /> +This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears<br /> +Into whose open portals he did pour<br /> +A tale of love so musical that all<br /> +The birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He does not love you, Madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">May the plague<br /> +Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, I tell you you will never see him,<br /> +Neither to-night, nor any other night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What is your name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My name? Revenge!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Revenge!<br /> +I think I never harmed a little child.<br /> +What should Revenge do coming to my door?<br /> +It matters not, for Death is there already,<br /> +Waiting with his dim torch to light my way.<br /> +’Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think<br /> +Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover,<br /> +And so dispatch the messengers at once,<br /> +Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day,<br /> +And let the night, thy sister, come instead,<br /> +And drape the world in mourning; let the owl,<br /> +Who is thy minister, scream from his tower<br /> +And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat,<br /> +That is the slave of dim Persephone,<br /> +Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing!<br /> +Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth<br /> +And bid them make us music, and tell the mole<br /> +To dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed,<br /> +For I shall lie within thine arms to-night.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="GutSmall">END OF ACT II.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>ACT III</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">SCENE</p> +<p><i>A large corridor in the Ducal Palace</i>: <i>a window</i> +(<i>L.C.</i>) <i>looks out on a view of Padua by moonlight</i>: +<i>a staircase</i> (<i>R.C.</i>) <i>leads up to a door with a +portière of crimson velvet</i>, <i>with the Duke’s +arms embroidered in gold on it</i>: <i>on the lowest step of the +staircase a figure draped in black is sitting</i>: <i>the hall is +lit by an iron cresset filled with burning tow</i>: <i>thunder +and lightning outside</i>: <i>the time is night</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>through the window</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The wind is rising: how my ladder shook!<br /> +I thought that every gust would break the cords!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Looks out at the city</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Christ! What a night:<br /> +Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings<br /> +Striking from pinnacle to pinnacle<br /> +Across the city, till the dim houses seem<br /> +To shudder and to shake as each new glare<br /> +Dashes adown the street.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Passes across the stage to foot +of staircase</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! who art thou<br /> +That sittest on the stair, like unto Death<br /> +Waiting a guilty soul? [<i>A pause</i>.]<br /> +Canst thou not speak?<br /> +Or has this storm laid palsy on thy tongue,<br /> +And chilled thy utterance?</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>The figure rises and takes off +his mask</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti,<br /> +Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>confusedly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">What, art thou here?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, waiting for your coming.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>looking away from +him</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I did not think to see you, but am glad,<br /> +That you may know the thing I mean to do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">First, I would have you know my well-laid +plans;<br /> +Listen: I have set horses at the gate<br /> +Which leads to Parma: when you have done your business<br /> +We will ride hence, and by to-morrow night—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It cannot be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, but it shall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Listen, Lord Moranzone,<br /> +I am resolved not to kill this man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Surely my ears are traitors, speak again:<br /> +It cannot be but age has dulled my powers,<br /> +I am an old man now: what did you say?<br /> +You said that with that dagger in your belt<br /> +You would avenge your father’s bloody murder;<br /> +Did you not say that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, my lord, I said<br /> +I was resolved not to kill the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You said not that; it is my senses mock me;<br +/> +Or else this midnight air o’ercharged with storm<br /> +Alters your message in the giving it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, you heard rightly; I’ll not kill +this man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What of thine oath, thou traitor, what of thine +oath?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I am resolved not to keep that oath.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What of thy murdered father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Dost thou think<br /> +My father would be glad to see me coming,<br /> +This old man’s blood still hot upon mine hands?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! he would laugh for joy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not think so,<br /> +There is better knowledge in the other world;<br /> +Vengeance is God’s, let God himself revenge.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou art God’s minister of vengeance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No!<br /> +God hath no minister but his own hand.<br /> +I will not kill this man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why are you here,<br /> +If not to kill him, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Lord Moranzone,<br /> +I purpose to ascend to the Duke’s chamber,<br /> +And as he lies asleep lay on his breast<br /> +The dagger and this writing; when he awakes<br /> +Then he will know who held him in his power<br /> +And slew him not: this is the noblest vengeance<br /> +Which I can take.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You will not slay him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ignoble son of a noble father,<br /> +Who sufferest this man who sold that father<br /> +To live an hour.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas thou that hindered me;<br /> +I would have killed him in the open square,<br /> +The day I saw him first.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It was not yet time;<br /> +Now it is time, and, like some green-faced girl,<br /> +Thou pratest of forgiveness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No! revenge:<br /> +The right revenge my father’s son should take.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You are a coward,<br /> +Take out the knife, get to the Duke’s chamber,<br /> +And bring me back his heart upon the blade.<br /> +When he is dead, then you can talk to me<br /> +Of noble vengeances.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Upon thine honour,<br /> +And by the love thou bearest my father’s name,<br /> +Dost thou think my father, that great gentleman,<br /> +That generous soldier, that most chivalrous lord,<br /> +Would have crept at night-time, like a common thief,<br /> +And stabbed an old man sleeping in his bed,<br /> +However he had wronged him: tell me that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p>[after some hesitation]</p> +<p class="poetry">You have sworn an oath, see that you keep that +oath.<br /> +Boy, do you think I do not know your secret,<br /> +Your traffic with the Duchess?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence, liar!<br /> +The very moon in heaven is not more chaste.<br /> +Nor the white stars so pure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And yet, you love her;<br /> +Weak fool, to let love in upon your life,<br /> +Save as a plaything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You do well to talk:<br /> +Within your veins, old man, the pulse of youth<br /> +Throbs with no ardour. Your eyes full of rheum<br /> +Have against Beauty closed their filmy doors,<br /> +And your clogged ears, losing their natural sense,<br /> +Have shut you from the music of the world.<br /> +You talk of love! You know not what it is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, in my time, boy, have I walked i’ the +moon,<br /> +Swore I would live on kisses and on blisses,<br /> +Swore I would die for love, and did not die,<br /> +Wrote love bad verses; ay, and sung them badly,<br /> +Like all true lovers: Oh, I have done the tricks!<br /> +I know the partings and the chamberings;<br /> +We are all animals at best, and love<br /> +Is merely passion with a holy name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Now then I know you have not loved at all.<br +/> +Love is the sacrament of life; it sets<br /> +Virtue where virtue was not; cleanses men<br /> +Of all the vile pollutions of this world;<br /> +It is the fire which purges gold from dross,<br /> +It is the fan which winnows wheat from chaff,<br /> +It is the spring which in some wintry soil<br /> +Makes innocence to blossom like a rose.<br /> +The days are over when God walked with men,<br /> +But Love, which is his image, holds his place.<br /> +When a man loves a woman, then he knows<br /> +God’s secret, and the secret of the world.<br /> +There is no house so lowly or so mean,<br /> +Which, if their hearts be pure who live in it,<br /> +Love will not enter; but if bloody murder<br /> +Knock at the Palace gate and is let in,<br /> +Love like a wounded thing creeps out and dies.<br /> +This is the punishment God sets on sin.<br /> +The wicked cannot love.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>A groan comes from the</i> +<span class="smcap">Duke’s</span> <i>chamber</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! What is that?<br /> +Do you not hear? ’Twas nothing.<br /> +So I think<br /> +That it is woman’s mission by their love<br /> +To save the souls of men: and loving her,<br /> +My Lady, my white Beatrice, I begin<br /> +To see a nobler and a holier vengeance<br /> +In letting this man live, than doth reside<br /> +In bloody deeds o’ night, stabs in the dark,<br /> +And young hands clutching at a palsied throat.<br /> +It was, I think, for love’s sake that Lord Christ,<br /> +Who was indeed himself incarnate Love,<br /> +Bade every man forgive his enemy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>sneeringly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">That was in Palestine, not Padua;<br /> +And said for saints: I have to do with men.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It was for all time said.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And your white Duchess,<br /> +What will she do to thank you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas, I will not see her face again.<br /> +’Tis but twelve hours since I parted from her,<br /> +So suddenly, and with such violent passion,<br /> +That she has shut her heart against me now:<br /> +No, I will never see her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What will you do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">After that I have laid the dagger there,<br /> +Get hence to-night from Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will take service with the Doge at Venice,<br +/> +And bid him pack me straightway to the wars,<br /> +And there I will, being now sick of life,<br /> +Throw that poor life against some desperate spear.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>A groan from the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duke’s</span> <i>chamber again</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Did you not hear a voice?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I always hear,<br /> +From the dim confines of some sepulchre,<br /> +A voice that cries for vengeance. We waste time,<br /> +It will be morning soon; are you resolved<br /> +You will not kill the Duke?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I am resolved.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O wretched father, lying unavenged.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">More wretched, were thy son a murderer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, what is life?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not know, my lord,<br /> +I did not give it, and I dare not take it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not thank God often; but I think<br /> +I thank him now that I have got no son!<br /> +And you, what bastard blood flows in your veins<br /> +That when you have your enemy in your grasp<br /> +You let him go! I would that I had left you<br /> +With the dull hinds that reared you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Better perhaps<br /> +That you had done so! May be better still<br /> +I’d not been born to this distressful world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell! Some day, Lord Moranzone,<br /> +You will understand my vengeance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Never, boy.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Gets out of window and exit by +rope ladder</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Father, I think thou knowest my resolve,<br /> +And with this nobler vengeance art content.<br /> +Father, I think in letting this man live<br /> +That I am doing what thou wouldst have done.<br /> +Father, I know not if a human voice<br /> +Can pierce the iron gateway of the dead,<br /> +Or if the dead are set in ignorance<br /> +Of what we do, or do not, for their sakes.<br /> +And yet I feel a presence in the air,<br /> +There is a shadow standing at my side,<br /> +And ghostly kisses seem to touch my lips,<br /> +And leave them holier. [<i>Kneels down</i>.]<br /> +O father, if ’tis thou,<br /> +Canst thou not burst through the decrees of death,<br /> +And if corporeal semblance show thyself,<br /> +That I may touch thy hand!<br /> +No, there is nothing. [<i>Rises</i>.]<br /> +’Tis the night that cheats us with its phantoms,<br /> +And, like a puppet-master, makes us think<br /> +That things are real which are not. It grows late.<br /> +Now must I to my business.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Pulls out a letter from his +doublet and reads it</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">When he wakes,<br /> +And sees this letter, and the dagger with it,<br /> +Will he not have some loathing for his life,<br /> +Repent, perchance, and lead a better life,<br /> +Or will he mock because a young man spared<br /> +His natural enemy? I do not care.<br /> +Father, it is thy bidding that I do,<br /> +Thy bidding, and the bidding of my love<br /> +Which teaches me to know thee as thou art.</p> +<p>[<i>Ascends staircase stealthily</i>, <i>and just as he +reaches out his hand to draw back the curtain the Duchess appears +all in white</i>. <span class="smcap">Guido</span> +<i>starts back</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido! what do you here so late?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O white and spotless angel of my life,<br /> +Sure thou hast come from Heaven with a message<br /> +That mercy is more noble than revenge?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is no barrier between us now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">None, love, nor shall be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I have seen to that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tarry here for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, you are not going?<br /> +You will not leave me as you did before?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will return within a moment’s space,<br +/> +But first I must repair to the Duke’s chamber,<br /> +And leave this letter and this dagger there,<br /> +That when he wakes—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">When who wakes?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He will not wake again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, is he dead?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! he is dead.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God! how wonderful<br /> +Are all thy secret ways! Who would have said<br /> +That on this very night, when I had yielded<br /> +Into thy hands the vengeance that is thine,<br /> +Thou with thy finger wouldst have touched the man,<br /> +And bade him come before thy judgment seat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I have just killed him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>in horror</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He was asleep;<br /> +Come closer, love, and I will tell you all.<br /> +I had resolved to kill myself to-night.<br /> +About an hour ago I waked from sleep,<br /> +And took my dagger from beneath my pillow,<br /> +Where I had hidden it to serve my need,<br /> +And drew it from the sheath, and felt the edge,<br /> +And thought of you, and how I loved you, Guido,<br /> +And turned to fall upon it, when I marked<br /> +The old man sleeping, full of years and sin;<br /> +There lay he muttering curses in his sleep,<br /> +And as I looked upon his evil face<br /> +Suddenly like a flame there flashed across me,<br /> +There is the barrier which Guido spoke of:<br /> +You said there lay a barrier between us,<br /> +What barrier but he?—<br /> +I hardly know<br /> +What happened, but a steaming mist of blood<br /> +Rose up between us two.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, horrible!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And then he groaned,<br /> +And then he groaned no more! I only heard<br /> +The dripping of the blood upon the floor.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Enough, enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Will you not kiss me now?<br /> +Do you remember saying that women’s love<br /> +Turns men to angels? well, the love of man<br /> +Turns women into martyrs; for its sake<br /> +We do or suffer anything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Will you not speak?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I cannot speak at all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Let as not talk of this! Let us go +hence:<br /> +Is not the barrier broken down between us?<br /> +What would you more? Come, it is almost morning.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Puts her hand on</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido’s</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>breaking from +her</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O damned saint! O angel fresh from +Hell!<br /> +What bloody devil tempted thee to this!<br /> +That thou hast killed thy husband, that is nothing—<br /> +Hell was already gaping for his soul—<br /> +But thou hast murdered Love, and in its place<br /> +Hast set a horrible and bloodstained thing,<br /> +Whose very breath breeds pestilence and plague,<br /> +And strangles Love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>in amazed +wonder</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I did it all for you.<br /> +I would not have you do it, had you willed it,<br /> +For I would keep you without blot or stain,<br /> +A thing unblemished, unassailed, untarnished.<br /> +Men do not know what women do for love.<br /> +Have I not wrecked my soul for your dear sake,<br /> +Here and hereafter?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, do not touch me,<br /> +Between us lies a thin red stream of blood;<br /> +I dare not look across it: when you stabbed him<br /> +You stabbed Love with a sharp knife to the heart.<br /> +We cannot meet again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>wringing her +hands</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">For you! For you!<br /> +I did it all for you: have you forgotten?<br /> +You said there was a barrier between us;<br /> +That barrier lies now i’ the upper chamber<br /> +Upset, overthrown, beaten, and battered down,<br /> +And will not part us ever.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, you mistook:<br /> +Sin was the barrier, you have raised it up;<br /> +Crime was the barrier, you have set it there.<br /> +The barrier was murder, and your hand<br /> +Has builded it so high it shuts out heaven,<br /> +It shuts out God.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I did it all for you;<br /> +You dare not leave me now: nay, Guido, listen.<br /> +Get horses ready, we will fly to-night.<br /> +The past is a bad dream, we will forget it:<br /> +Before us lies the future: shall we not have<br /> +Sweet days of love beneath our vines and laugh?—<br /> +No, no, we will not laugh, but, when we weep,<br /> +Well, we will weep together; I will serve you;<br /> +I will be very meek and very gentle:<br /> +You do not know me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, I know you now;<br /> +Get hence, I say, out of my sight.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>pacing up and +down</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">O God,<br /> +How I have loved this man!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You never loved me.<br /> +Had it been so, Love would have stayed your hand.<br /> +How could we sit together at Love’s table?<br /> +You have poured poison in the sacred wine,<br /> +And Murder dips his fingers in the sop.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>throws herself on her +knees</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Then slay me now! I have spilt blood +to-night,<br /> +You shall spill more, so we go hand in hand<br /> +To heaven or to hell. Draw your sword, Guido.<br /> +Quick, let your soul go chambering in my heart,<br /> +It will but find its master’s image there.<br /> +Nay, if you will not slay me with your sword,<br /> +Bid me to fall upon this reeking knife,<br /> +And I will do it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>wresting knife from +her</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Give it to me, I say.<br /> +O God, your very hands are wet with blood!<br /> +This place is Hell, I cannot tarry here.<br /> +I pray you let me see your face no more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Better for me I had not seen your face.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<span class="smcap">Guido</span> +<i>recoils</i>: <i>she seizes his hands as she kneels</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, Guido, listen for a while:<br /> +Until you came to Padua I lived<br /> +Wretched indeed, but with no murderous thought,<br /> +Very submissive to a cruel Lord,<br /> +Very obedient to unjust commands,<br /> +As pure I think as any gentle girl<br /> +Who now would turn in horror from my hands—</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Stands up</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">You came: ah! Guido, the first kindly +words<br /> +I ever heard since I had come from France<br /> +Were from your lips: well, well, that is no matter.<br /> +You came, and in the passion of your eyes<br /> +I read love’s meaning; everything you said<br /> +Touched my dumb soul to music, so I loved you.<br /> +And yet I did not tell you of my love.<br /> +’Twas you who sought me out, knelt at my feet<br /> +As I kneel now at yours, and with sweet vows,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Kneels</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Whose music seems to linger in my ears,<br /> +Swore that you loved me, and I trusted you.<br /> +I think there are many women in the world<br /> +Who would have tempted you to kill the man.<br /> +I did not.<br /> +Yet I know that had I done so,<br /> +I had not been thus humbled in the dust,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Stands up</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">But you had loved me very faithfully.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>After a pause approaches him +timidly</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I do not think you understand me, Guido:<br /> +It was for your sake that I wrought this deed<br /> +Whose horror now chills my young blood to ice,<br /> +For your sake only. [<i>Stretching out her arm</i>.]<br /> +Will you not speak to me?<br /> +Love me a little: in my girlish life<br /> +I have been starved for love, and kindliness<br /> +Has passed me by.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I dare not look at you:<br /> +You come to me with too pronounced a favour;<br /> +Get to your tirewomen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, there it is!<br /> +There speaks the man! yet had you come to me<br /> +With any heavy sin upon your soul,<br /> +Some murder done for hire, not for love,<br /> +Why, I had sat and watched at your bedside<br /> +All through the night-time, lest Remorse might come<br /> +And pour his poisons in your ear, and so<br /> +Keep you from sleeping! Sure it is the guilty,<br /> +Who, being very wretched, need love most.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is no love where there is any guilt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No love where there is any guilt! O +God,<br /> +How differently do we love from men!<br /> +There is many a woman here in Padua,<br /> +Some workman’s wife, or ruder artisan’s,<br /> +Whose husband spends the wages of the week<br /> +In a coarse revel, or a tavern brawl,<br /> +And reeling home late on the Saturday night,<br /> +Finds his wife sitting by a fireless hearth,<br /> +Trying to hush the child who cries for hunger,<br /> +And then sets to and beats his wife because<br /> +The child is hungry, and the fire black.<br /> +Yet the wife loves him! and will rise next day<br /> +With some red bruise across a careworn face,<br /> +And sweep the house, and do the common service,<br /> +And try and smile, and only be too glad<br /> +If he does not beat her a second time<br /> +Before her child!—that is how women love.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>A pause</i>: <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>says nothing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I think you will not drive me from your +side.<br /> +Where have I got to go if you reject me?—<br /> +You for whose sake this hand has murdered life,<br /> +You for whose sake my soul has wrecked itself<br /> +Beyond all hope of pardon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Get thee gone:<br /> +The dead man is a ghost, and our love too,<br /> +Flits like a ghost about its desolate tomb,<br /> +And wanders through this charnel house, and weeps<br /> +That when you slew your lord you slew it also.<br /> +Do you not see?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I see when men love women<br /> +They give them but a little of their lives,<br /> +But women when they love give everything;<br /> +I see that, Guido, now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Away, away,<br /> +And come not back till you have waked your dead.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I would to God that I could wake the dead,<br +/> +Put vision in the glazéd eves, and give<br /> +The tongue its natural utterance, and bid<br /> +The heart to beat again: that cannot be:<br /> +For what is done, is done: and what is dead<br /> +Is dead for ever: the fire cannot warm him:<br /> +The winter cannot hurt him with its snows;<br /> +Something has gone from him; if you call him now,<br /> +He will not answer; if you mock him now,<br /> +He will not laugh; and if you stab him now<br /> +He will not bleed.<br /> +I would that I could wake him!<br /> +O God, put back the sun a little space,<br /> +And from the roll of time blot out to-night,<br /> +And bid it not have been! Put back the sun,<br /> +And make me what I was an hour ago!<br /> +No, no, time will not stop for anything,<br /> +Nor the sun stay its courses, though Repentance<br /> +Calling it back grow hoarse; but you, my love,<br /> +Have you no word of pity even for me?<br /> +O Guido, Guido, will you not kiss me once?<br /> +Drive me not to some desperate resolve:<br /> +Women grow mad when they are treated thus:<br /> +Will you not kiss me once?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>holding up knife</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I will not kiss you<br /> +Until the blood grows dry upon this knife,<br /> +[<i>Wildly</i>] Back to your dead!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>going up the +stairs</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why, then I will be gone! and may you find<br +/> +More mercy than you showed to me to-night!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Let me find mercy when I go at night<br /> +And do foul murder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>coming down a few +steps</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Murder did you say?<br /> +Murder is hungry, and still cries for more,<br /> +And Death, his brother, is not satisfied,<br /> +But walks the house, and will not go away,<br /> +Unless he has a comrade! Tarry, Death,<br /> +For I will give thee a most faithful lackey<br /> +To travel with thee! Murder, call no more,<br /> +For thou shalt eat thy fill.<br /> +There is a storm<br /> +Will break upon this house before the morning,<br /> +So horrible, that the white moon already<br /> +Turns grey and sick with terror, the low wind<br /> +Goes moaning round the house, and the high stars<br /> +Run madly through the vaulted firmament,<br /> +As though the night wept tears of liquid fire<br /> +For what the day shall look upon. Oh, weep,<br /> +Thou lamentable heaven! Weep thy fill!<br /> +Though sorrow like a cataract drench the fields,<br /> +And make the earth one bitter lake of tears,<br /> +It would not be enough. [<i>A peal of thunder</i>.]<br /> +Do you not hear,<br /> +There is artillery in the Heaven to-night.<br /> +Vengeance is wakened up, and has unloosed<br /> +His dogs upon the world, and in this matter<br /> +Which lies between us two, let him who draws<br /> +The thunder on his head beware the ruin<br /> +Which the forked flame brings after.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>A flash of lightning followed +by a peal of thunder</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Away! away!</p> +<p>[<i>Exit the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span>, <i>who as +she lifts the crimson curtain looks back for a moment at</i> +<span class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>but he makes no +sign</i>. <i>More thunder</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Now is life fallen in ashes at my feet<br /> +And noble love self-slain; and in its place<br /> +Crept murder with its silent bloody feet.<br /> +And she who wrought it—Oh! and yet she loved me,<br /> +And for my sake did do this dreadful thing.<br /> +I have been cruel to her: Beatrice!<br /> +Beatrice, I say, come back.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Begins to ascend staircase</i>, +<i>when the noise of Soldiers is heard</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! what is that?<br /> +Torches ablaze, and noise of hurrying feet.<br /> +Pray God they have not seized her.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Noise grows louder</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Beatrice!<br /> +There is yet time to escape. Come down, come out!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The voice of the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>outside</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">This way went he, the man who slew my lord.</p> +<p>[<i>Down the staircase comes hurrying a confused body of +Soldiers</i>; <span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>is not seen at +first</i>, <i>till the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> +<i>surrounded by Servants carrying torches appears at the top of +the staircase</i>, <i>and points to</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>who is seized at once</i>, <i>one +of the Soldiers dragging the knife from his hand and showing it +to the Captain of the Guard in sight of the audience</i>. +<i>Tableau</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="GutSmall">END OF ACT III.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>ACT IV</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">SCENE</p> +<p><i>The Court of Justice</i>: <i>the walls are hung with +stamped grey velvet</i>: <i>above the hangings the wall is +red</i>, <i>and gilt symbolical figures bear up the roof</i>, +<i>which is made of red beams with grey soffits and moulding</i>: +<i>a canopy of white satin flowered with gold is set for the +Duchess</i>: <i>below it a long bench with red cloth for the +Judges</i>: <i>below that a table for the clerks of the +court. Two soldiers stand on each side of the canopy</i>, +<i>and two soldiers guard the door</i>; <i>the citizens have some +of them collected in the Court</i>; <i>others are coming in +greeting one another</i>; <i>two tipstaffs in violet keep order +with long white wands</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Good morrow, neighbour Anthony.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Good morrow, neighbour Dominick.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This is a strange day for Padua, is it +not?—the Duke being dead.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I tell you, neighbour Dominick, I have not +known such a day since the last Duke died.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They will try him first, and sentence him +afterwards, will they not, neighbour Anthony?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, for he might ’scape his punishment +then; but they will condemn him first so that he gets his +deserts, and give him trial afterwards so that no injustice is +done.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, well, it will go hard with him I doubt +not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Surely it is a grievous thing to shed a +Duke’s blood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They say a Duke has blue blood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I think our Duke’s blood was black like +his soul.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have a watch, neighbour Anthony, the officer is +looking at thee.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I care not if he does but look at me; he cannot +whip me with the lashes of his eye.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What think you of this young man who stuck the +knife into the Duke?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, that he is a well-behaved, and a +well-meaning, and a well-favoured lad, and yet wicked in that he +killed the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas the first time he did it: may be +the law will not be hard on him, as he did not do it before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">True.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence, knave.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Am I thy looking-glass, Master Tipstaff, that +thou callest me knave?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Here be one of the household coming. +Well, Dame Lucy, thou art of the Court, how does thy poor +mistress the Duchess, with her sweet face?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O well-a-day! O miserable day! O +day! O misery! Why it is just nineteen years last +June, at Michaelmas, since I was married to my husband, and it is +August now, and here is the Duke murdered; there is a coincidence +for you!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, if it is a coincidence, they may not kill +the young man: there is no law against coincidences.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But how does the Duchess?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well well, I knew some harm would happen to the +house: six weeks ago the cakes were all burned on one side, and +last Saint Martin even as ever was, there flew into the candle a +big moth that had wings, and a’most scared me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But come to the Duchess, good gossip: what of +her?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, it is time you should ask after her, +poor lady; she is distraught almost. Why, she has not +slept, but paced the chamber all night long. I prayed her +to have a posset, or some aqua-vitæ, and to get to bed and +sleep a little for her health’s sake, but she answered me +she was afraid she might dream. That was a strange answer, +was it not?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">These great folk have not much sense, so +Providence makes it up to them in fine clothes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, well, God keep murder from us, I say, as +long as we are alive.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Moranzone</span> <i>hurriedly</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is the Duke dead?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He has a knife in his heart, which they say is +not healthy for any man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who is accused of having killed him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, the prisoner, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But who is the prisoner?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, he that is accused of the Duke’s +murder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I mean, what is his name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Faith, the same which his godfathers gave him: +what else should it be?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti is his name, my lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I almost knew thine answer ere you gave it.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Aside</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet it is strange he should have killed the +Duke,<br /> +Seeing he left me in such different mood.<br /> +It is most likely when he saw the man,<br /> +This devil who had sold his father’s life,<br /> +That passion from their seat within his heart<br /> +Thrust all his boyish theories of love,<br /> +And in their place set vengeance; yet I marvel<br /> +That he escaped not.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Turning again to the +crowd</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">How was he taken? Tell me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, sir, he was taken by the heels.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But who seized him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, those that did lay hold of him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">How was the alarm given?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That I cannot tell you, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It was the Duchess herself who pointed him +out.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">The Duchess! There is something strange +in this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! And the dagger was in his hand—the +Duchess’s own dagger.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What did you say?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mistress Lucy</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, marry, that it was with the +Duchess’s dagger that the Duke was killed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">There is some mystery about this: I cannot +understand it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They be very long a-coming,</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I warrant they will come soon enough for the +prisoner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence in the Court!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou dost break silence in bidding us keep it, +Master Tipstaff.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter the</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> <i>and the other +Judges</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who is he in scarlet? Is he the +headsman?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, he is the Lord Justice.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>guarded</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There be the prisoner surely.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He looks honest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That be his villany: knaves nowadays do look so +honest that honest folk are forced to look like knaves so as to +be different.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter the Headman</i>, <i>who +takes his stand behind</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Yon be the headsman then! O Lord! +Is the axe sharp, think you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! sharper than thy wits are; but the edge is +not towards him, mark you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span> [<i>scratching his +neck</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I’ faith, I like it not so near.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tut, thou need’st not be afraid; they +never cut the heads of common folk: they do but hang us.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Trumpets outside</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What are the trumpets for? Is the trial +over?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, ’tis for the Duchess.</p> +<p>[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>in +black velvet</i>; <i>her train of flowered black velvet is +carried by two pages in violet</i>; <i>with her is the</i> <span +class="smcap">Cardinal</span> <i>in scarlet</i>, <i>and the +gentlemen of the Court in black</i>; <i>she takes her seat on the +throne above the Judges</i>, <i>who rise and take their caps off +as she enters</i>; <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Cardinal</span> +<i>sits next to her a little lower</i>; <i>the Courtiers group +themselves about the throne</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O poor lady, how pale she is! Will she +sit there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! she is in the Duke’s place now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">That is a good thing for Padua; the Duchess is +a very kind and merciful Duchess; why, she cured my child of the +ague once.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, and has given us bread: do not forget the +bread.</p> +<p>A <span class="smcap">Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Stand back, good people.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If we be good, why should we stand back?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence in the Court!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">May it please your Grace,<br /> +Is it your pleasure we proceed to trial<br /> +Of the Duke’s murder? [<span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>bows</i>.]<br /> +Set the prisoner forth.<br /> +What is thy name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It matters not, my lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti is thy name in Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A man may die as well under that name as any +other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou art not ignorant<br /> +What dreadful charge men lay against thee here,<br /> +Namely, the treacherous murder of thy Lord,<br /> +Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua;<br /> +What dost thou say in answer?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I say nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> [<i>rising</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>stepping from the +crowd</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Tarry, my Lord Justice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who art thou that bid’st justice tarry, +sir?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So be it justice it can go its way;<br /> +But if it be not justice—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who is this?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A very noble gentleman, and well known<br /> +To the late Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sir, thou art come in time<br /> +To see the murder of the Duke avenged.<br /> +There stands the man who did this heinous thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My lord,<br /> +I ask again what proof have ye?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> [<i>holding up the +dagger</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">This dagger,<br /> +Which from his blood-stained hands, itself all blood,<br /> +Last night the soldiers seized: what further proof<br /> +Need we indeed?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>takes the danger and +approaches the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Saw I not such a dagger<br /> +Hang from your Grace’s girdle yesterday?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>shudders and makes no +answer</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! my Lord Justice, may I speak a moment<br /> +With this young man, who in such peril stands?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, willingly, my lord, and may you turn him<br +/> +To make a full avowal of his guilt.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lord Moranzone</span> <i>goes over to</i> +<span class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>who stands R. and clutches +him by the hand</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span> [<i>in a low +voice</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">She did it! Nay, I saw it in her eyes.<br +/> +Boy, dost thou think I’ll let thy father’s son<br /> +Be by this woman butchered to his death?<br /> +Her husband sold your father, and the wife<br /> +Would sell the son in turn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Lord Moranzone,<br /> +I alone did this thing: be satisfied,<br /> +My father is avenged.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Doth he confess?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My lord, I do confess<br /> +That foul unnatural murder has been done.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, look at that: he has a pitiful heart, and +does not like murder; they will let him go for that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Say you no more?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My lord, I say this also,<br /> +That to spill human blood is deadly sin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Marry, he should tell that to the headsman: +’tis a good sentiment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Lastly, my lord, I do entreat the Court<br /> +To give me leave to utter openly<br /> +The dreadful secret of this mystery,<br /> +And to point out the very guilty one<br /> +Who with this dagger last night slew the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou hast leave to speak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>rising</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I say he shall not speak:<br /> +What need have we of further evidence?<br /> +Was he not taken in the house at night<br /> +In Guilt’s own bloody livery?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> [<i>showing her the +statute</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace<br /> +Can read the law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>waiving book +aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Bethink you, my Lord Justice,<br /> +Is it not very like that such a one<br /> +May, in the presence of the people here,<br /> +Utter some slanderous word against my Lord,<br /> +Against the city, or the city’s honour,<br /> +Perchance against myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My liege, the law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">He shall not speak, but, with gags in his +mouth,<br /> +Shall climb the ladder to the bloody block.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The law, my liege.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">We are not bound by law,<br /> +But with it we bind others.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My Lord Justice,<br /> +Thou wilt not suffer this injustice here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The Court needs not thy voice, Lord +Moranzone.<br /> +Madam, it were a precedent most evil<br /> +To wrest the law from its appointed course,<br /> +For, though the cause be just, yet anarchy<br /> +Might on this licence touch these golden scales<br /> +And unjust causes unjust victories gain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not think your Grace can stay the law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, it is well to preach and prate of law:<br +/> +Methinks, my haughty lords of Padua,<br /> +If ye are hurt in pocket or estate,<br /> +So much as makes your monstrous revenues<br /> +Less by the value of one ferry toll,<br /> +Ye do not wait the tedious law’s delay<br /> +With such sweet patience as ye counsel me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Count Bardi</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, I think you wrong our nobles here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I think I wrong them not. Which of you +all<br /> +Finding a thief within his house at night,<br /> +With some poor chattel thrust into his rags,<br /> +Will stop and parley with him? do ye not<br /> +Give him unto the officer and his hook<br /> +To be dragged gaolwards straightway?<br /> +And so now,<br /> +Had ye been men, finding this fellow here,<br /> +With my Lord’s life still hot upon his hands,<br /> +Ye would have haled him out into the court,<br /> +And struck his head off with an axe.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Speak, my Lord Justice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace, it cannot be:<br /> +The laws of Padua are most certain here:<br /> +And by those laws the common murderer even<br /> +May with his own lips plead, and make defence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This is no common murderer, Lord Justice,<br /> +But a great outlaw, and a most vile traitor,<br /> +Taken in open arms against the state.<br /> +For he who slays the man who rules a state<br /> +Slays the state also, widows every wife,<br /> +And makes each child an orphan, and no less<br /> +Is to be held a public enemy,<br /> +Than if he came with mighty ordonnance,<br /> +And all the spears of Venice at his back,<br /> +To beat and batter at our city gates—<br /> +Nay, is more dangerous to our commonwealth,<br /> +For walls and gates, bastions and forts, and things<br /> +Whose common elements are wood and stone<br /> +May be raised up, but who can raise again<br /> +The ruined body of my murdered lord,<br /> +And bid it live and laugh?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Now by Saint Paul<br /> +I do not think that they will let him speak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo Vitellozzo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">There is much in this, listen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Wherefore now,<br /> +Throw ashes on the head of Padua,<br /> +With sable banners hang each silent street,<br /> +Let every man be clad in solemn black;<br /> +But ere we turn to these sad rites of mourning<br /> +Let us bethink us of the desperate hand<br /> +Which wrought and brought this ruin on our state,<br /> +And straightway pack him to that narrow house,<br /> +Where no voice is, but with a little dust<br /> +Death fills right up the lying mouths of men.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord +Justice,<br /> +Thou mightst as well bid the untrammelled ocean,<br /> +The winter whirlwind, or the Alpine storm,<br /> +Not roar their will, as bid me hold my peace!<br /> +Ay! though ye put your knives into my throat,<br /> +Each grim and gaping wound shall find a tongue,<br /> +And cry against you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sir, this violence<br /> +Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal<br /> +Give thee a lawful right to open speech,<br /> +Naught that thou sayest can be credited.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>smiles and</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>falls back with a gesture of +despair</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, myself, and these wise Justices,<br /> +Will with your Grace’s sanction now retire<br /> +Into another chamber, to decide<br /> +Upon this difficult matter of the law,<br /> +And search the statutes and the precedents.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes +well,<br /> +Nor let this brawling traitor have his way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Go, my Lord Justice, search thy conscience +well,<br /> +Nor let a man be sent to death unheard.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit the</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> <i>and the Judges</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence, thou evil genius of my life!<br /> +Thou com’st between us two a second time;<br /> +This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I shall not die till I have uttered voice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with +thee.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I am what thou hast made me; look at me +well,<br /> +I am thy handiwork.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">See, is she not<br /> +Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice,<br /> +Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Hush! she may hear thy chatter.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Headsman</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My young fellow,<br /> +I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak,<br /> +Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck,<br /> +And words of thine will never blunt its edge.<br /> +But if thou art so bent upon it, why<br /> +Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder:<br /> +The common people call him kindly here,<br /> +Indeed I know he has a kindly soul.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This man, whose trade is death, hath +courtesies<br /> +More than the others.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Headsman</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, God love you, sir,<br /> +I’ll do you your last service on this earth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land,<br +/> +With Lord Christ’s face of mercy looking down<br /> +From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man<br /> +Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so,<br /> +May I not tell this dreadful tale of sin,<br /> +If any sin there be upon my soul?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou dost but waste thy time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alack, my son,<br /> +I have no power with the secular arm.<br /> +My task begins when justice has been done,<br /> +To urge the wavering sinner to repent<br /> +And to confess to Holy Church’s ear<br /> +The dreadful secrets of a sinful mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou mayest speak to the confessional<br /> +Until thy lips grow weary of their tale,<br /> +But here thou shalt not speak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My reverend father,<br /> +You bring me but cold comfort.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, my son,<br /> +For the great power of our mother Church,<br /> +Ends not with this poor bubble of a world,<br /> +Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith,<br /> +For if the sinner doth repentant die,<br /> +Our prayers and holy masses much avail<br /> +To bring the guilty soul from purgatory.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord<br /> +With that red star of blood upon his heart,<br /> +Tell him I sent thee hither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O dear God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">This is the woman, is it, whom you loved?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Your Grace is very cruel to this man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No more than he was cruel to her Grace.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Yet mercy is the sovereign right of +princes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I got no mercy, and I give it not.<br /> +He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone,<br /> +He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field,<br /> +He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast,<br /> +He hath withered up all kindness at the root;<br /> +My life is as some famine murdered land,<br /> +Whence all good things have perished utterly:<br /> +I am what he hath made me.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>weeps</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is it not strange<br /> +That she should so have loved the wicked Duke?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is most strange when women love their +lords,<br /> +And when they love them not it is most strange.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! I can bear the ills of other men,<br +/> +Which is philosophy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They tarry long,<br /> +These greybeards and their council; bid them come;<br /> +Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart<br /> +Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed,<br /> +That I here care to live; God knows my life<br /> +Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that,<br /> +I would not die companionless, or go<br /> +Lonely to Hell.<br /> +Look, my Lord Cardinal,<br /> +Canst thou not see across my forehead here,<br /> +In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge?<br /> +Fetch me some water, I will wash it off:<br /> +’Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time<br /> +I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal?<br /> +Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain:<br /> +Give me a knife; not that one, but another,<br /> +And I will cut it out.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is most natural<br /> +To be incensed against the murderous hand<br /> +That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that +hand;<br /> +But it will burn hereafter.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Cardinal</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, the Church<br /> +Ordains us to forgive our enemies.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Forgiveness? what is that? I never got +it.<br /> +They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Enter the</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Justice</span>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege,<br +/> +We have long pondered on the point at issue,<br /> +And much considered of your Grace’s wisdom,<br /> +And never wisdom spake from fairer lips—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Proceed, sir, without compliment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">We find,<br /> +As your own Grace did rightly signify,<br /> +That any citizen, who by force or craft<br /> +Conspires against the person of the Liege,<br /> +Is <i>ipso facto</i> outlaw, void of rights<br /> +Such as pertain to other citizens,<br /> +Is traitor, and a public enemy,<br /> +Who may by any casual sword be slain<br /> +Without the slayer’s danger; nay, if brought<br /> +Into the presence of the tribunal,<br /> +Must with dumb lips and silence reverent<br /> +Listen unto his well-deserved doom,<br /> +Nor has the privilege of open speech.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily;<br /> +I like your law: and now I pray dispatch<br /> +This public outlaw to his righteous doom;<br /> +What is there more?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, there is more, your Grace.<br /> +This man being alien born, not Paduan,<br /> +Nor by allegiance bound unto the Duke,<br /> +Save such as common nature doth lay down,<br /> +Hath, though accused of treasons manifold,<br /> +Whose slightest penalty is certain death,<br /> +Yet still the right of public utterance<br /> +Before the people and the open court;<br /> +Nay, shall be much entreated by the Court,<br /> +To make some formal pleading for his life,<br /> +Lest his own city, righteously incensed,<br /> +Should with an unjust trial tax our state,<br /> +And wars spring up against the commonwealth:<br /> +So merciful are the laws of Padua<br /> +Unto the stranger living in her gates.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Being of my Lord’s household, is he +stranger here?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, until seven years of service spent<br /> +He cannot be a Paduan citizen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily;<br /> +I like your law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I like no law at all:<br /> +Were there no law there’d be no law-breakers,<br /> +So all men would be virtuous.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Citizen</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So they would;<br /> +’Tis a wise saying that, and brings you far.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! to the gallows, knave.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is this the law?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is the law most certainly, my liege.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Show me the book: ’tis written in +blood-red.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Look at the Duchess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou accursed law,<br /> +I would that I could tear thee from the state<br /> +As easy as I tear thee from this book.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Tears out the page</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Come here, Count Bardi: are you honourable?<br +/> +Get a horse ready for me at my house,<br /> +For I must ride to Venice instantly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Bardi</span></p> +<p class="poetry">To Venice, Madam?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Not a word of this,<br /> +Go, go at once. [<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Count +Bardi</span>.]<br /> +A moment, my Lord Justice.<br /> +If, as thou sayest it, this is the law—<br /> +Nay, nay, I doubt not that thou sayest right,<br /> +Though right be wrong in such a case as this—<br /> +May I not by the virtue of mine office<br /> +Adjourn this court until another day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, you cannot stay a trial for blood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will not tarry then to hear this man<br /> +Rail with rude tongue against our sacred person.<br /> +Come, gentlemen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My liege,<br /> +You cannot leave this court until the prisoner<br /> +Be purged or guilty of this dread offence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Cannot, Lord Justice? By what right do +you<br /> +Set barriers in my path where I should go?<br /> +Am I not Duchess here in Padua,<br /> +And the state’s regent?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">For that reason, Madam,<br /> +Being the fountain-head of life and death<br /> +Whence, like a mighty river, justice flows,<br /> +Without thy presence justice is dried up<br /> +And fails of purpose: thou must tarry here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, wilt thou keep me here against my +will?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">We pray thy will be not against the law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What if I force my way out of the court?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou canst not force the Court to give thee +way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will not tarry. [<i>Rises from her +seat</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is the usher here?<br /> +Let him stand forth. [<i>Usher comes forward</i>.]<br /> +Thou knowest thy business, sir.</p> +<p>[<i>The Usher closes the doors of the court</i>, <i>which are +L.</i>, <i>and when the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> +<i>and her retinue approach</i>, <i>kneels down</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Usher</span></p> +<p class="poetry">In all humility I beseech your Grace<br /> +Turn not my duty to discourtesy,<br /> +Nor make my unwelcome office an offence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is there no gentleman amongst you all<br /> +To prick this prating fellow from our way?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span> [<i>drawing his +sword</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! that will I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Count Maffio, have a care,<br /> +And you, sir. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Jeppo</span>.]<br /> +The first man who draws his sword<br /> +Upon the meanest officer of this Court,<br /> +Dies before nightfall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sirs, put up your swords:<br /> +It is most meet that I should hear this man.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Goes back to throne</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Moranzone</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Now hast thou got thy enemy in thy hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> [<i>taking the +time-glass up</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Guido Ferranti, while the crumbling sand<br /> +Falls through this time-glass, thou hast leave to speak.<br /> +This and no more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is enough, my lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thou standest on the extreme verge of death;<br +/> +See that thou speakest nothing but the truth,<br /> +Naught else will serve thee.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If I speak it not,<br /> +Then give my body to the headsman there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> [<i>turns the +time-glass</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Let there be silence while the prisoner +speaks.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tipstaff</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence in the Court there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">My Lords Justices,<br /> +And reverent judges of this worthy court,<br /> +I hardly know where to begin my tale,<br /> +So strangely dreadful is this history.<br /> +First, let me tell you of what birth I am.<br /> +I am the son of that good Duke Lorenzo<br /> +Who was with damned treachery done to death<br /> +By a most wicked villain, lately Duke<br /> +Of this good town of Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Have a care,<br /> +It will avail thee nought to mock this prince<br /> +Who now lies in his coffin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maffio</span></p> +<p class="poetry">By Saint James,<br /> +This is the Duke of Parma’s rightful heir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeppo</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I always thought him noble.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I confess<br /> +That with the purport of a just revenge,<br /> +A most just vengeance on a man of blood,<br /> +I entered the Duke’s household, served his will,<br /> +Sat at his board, drank of his wine, and was<br /> +His intimate: so much I will confess,<br /> +And this too, that I waited till he grew<br /> +To give the fondest secrets of his life<br /> +Into my keeping, till he fawned on me,<br /> +And trusted me in every private matter<br /> +Even as my noble father trusted him;<br /> +That for this thing I waited.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>To the Headsman</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou man of blood!<br /> +Turn not thine axe on me before the time:<br /> +Who knows if it be time for me to die?<br /> +Is there no other neck in court but mine?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">The sand within the time-glass flows apace.<br +/> +Come quickly to the murder of the Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I will be brief: Last night at twelve o’ +the clock,<br /> +By a strong rope I scaled the palace wall,<br /> +With purport to revenge my father’s murder—<br /> +Ay! with that purport I confess, my lord.<br /> +This much I will acknowledge, and this also,<br /> +That as with stealthy feet I climbed the stair<br /> +Which led unto the chamber of the Duke,<br /> +And reached my hand out for the scarlet cloth<br /> +Which shook and shivered in the gusty door,<br /> +Lo! the white moon that sailed in the great heaven<br /> +Flooded with silver light the darkened room,<br /> +Night lit her candles for me, and I saw<br /> +The man I hated, cursing in his sleep;<br /> +And thinking of a most dear father murdered,<br /> +Sold to the scaffold, bartered to the block,<br /> +I smote the treacherous villain to the heart<br /> +With this same dagger, which by chance I found<br /> +Within the chamber.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>rising from her +seat</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>hurriedly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I killed the Duke.<br /> +Now, my Lord Justice, if I may crave a boon,<br /> +Suffer me not to see another sun<br /> +Light up the misery of this loathsome world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thy boon is granted, thou shalt die +to-night.<br /> +Lead him away. Come, Madam</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>is led off</i>; <i>as he +goes the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>stretches out +her arms and rushes down the stage</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido! Guido!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Faints</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Tableau</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="GutSmall">END OF ACT IV.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>ACT V</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">SCENE</p> +<p><i>A dungeon in the public prison of Padua</i>; <i>Guido lies +asleep on a pallet</i> (<i>L.C.</i>); <i>a table with a goblet on +it is set</i> (<i>L.C.</i>); <i>five soldiers are drinking and +playing dice in the corner on a stone table</i>; <i>one of them +has a lantern hung to his halbert</i>; <i>a torch is set in the +wall over Guido’s head</i>. <i>Two grated windows +behind</i>, <i>one on each side of the door which is</i> +(<i>C.</i>), <i>look out into the passage</i>; <i>the stage is +rather dark</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span> [<i>throws +dice</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Sixes again! good Pietro.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I’ faith, lieutenant, I will play with +thee no more. I will lose everything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Except thy wits; thou art safe there!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, ay, he cannot take them from me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No; for thou hast no wits to give him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Soldiers</span> [<i>loudly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ha! ha! ha!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Silence! You will wake the prisoner; he +is asleep.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What matter? He will get sleep enough +when he is buried. I warrant he’d be glad if we could +wake him when he’s in the grave.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay! for when he wakes there it will be +judgment day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, and he has done a grievous thing; for, look +you, to murder one of us who are but flesh and blood is a sin, +and to kill a Duke goes being near against the law.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Well, well, he was a wicked Duke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And so he should not have touched him; if one +meddles with wicked people, one is like to be tainted with their +wickedness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, that is true. How old is the +prisoner?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Old enough to do wrong, and not old enough to +be wise.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, then, he might be any age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They say the Duchess wanted to pardon him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is that so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, and did much entreat the Lord Justice, but +he would not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I had thought, Pietro, that the Duchess was +omnipotent.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">True, she is well-favoured; I know none so +comely.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Soldiers</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ha! ha! ha!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I meant I had thought our Duchess could do +anything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, for he is now given over to the Justices, +and they will see that justice be done; they and stout Hugh the +headsman; but when his head is off, why then the Duchess can +pardon him if she likes; there is no law against that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not think that stout Hugh, as you call +him, will do the business for him after all. This Guido is +of gentle birth, and so by the law can drink poison first, if it +so be his pleasure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And if he does not drink it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why, then, they will kill him.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Knocking comes at the +door</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">See who that is.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Third Soldier goes over and +looks through the wicket</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is a woman, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is she pretty?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Third Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I can’t tell. She is masked, +lieutenant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is only very ugly or very beautiful women +who ever hide their faces. Let her in.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Soldier opens the door</i>, +<i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>masked and +cloaked enters</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>to Third +Soldier</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Are you the officer on guard?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span> [<i>coming +forward</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">I am, madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I must see the prisoner alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I am afraid that is impossible. +[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>hands him a +ring</i>, <i>he looks at and returns it to her with a bow and +makes a sign to the Soldiers</i>.] Stand without there.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exeunt the Soldiers</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Officer, your men are somewhat rough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They mean no harm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I shall be going back in a few minutes. +As I pass through the corridor do not let them try and lift my +mask.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You need not be afraid, madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I have a particular reason for wishing my face +not to be seen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, with this ring you can go in and out as +you please; it is the Duchess’s own ring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Leave us. [<i>The Soldier turns to go +out</i>.] A moment, sir. For what hour is . . .</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">At twelve o’clock, madam, we have orders +to lead him out; but I dare say he won’t wait for us; +he’s more like to take a drink out of that poison +yonder. Men are afraid of the headsman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is that poison?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay, madam, and very sure poison too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You may go, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">First Soldier</span></p> +<p class="poetry">By Saint James, a pretty hand! I wonder +who she is. Some woman who loved him, perhaps.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Exit</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>taking her mark +off</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">At last!<br /> +He can escape now in this cloak and vizard,<br /> +We are of a height almost: they will not know him;<br /> +As for myself what matter?<br /> +So that he does not curse me as he goes,<br /> +I care but little: I wonder will he curse me.<br /> +He has the right. It is eleven now;<br /> +They will not come till twelve.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Goes over to the table</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">So this is poison.<br /> +Is it not strange that in this liquor here<br /> +There lies the key to all philosophies?</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Takes the cup up</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">It smells of poppies. I remember well<br +/> +That, when I was a child in Sicily,<br /> +I took the scarlet poppies from the corn,<br /> +And made a little wreath, and my grave uncle,<br /> +Don John of Naples, laughed: I did not know<br /> +That they had power to stay the springs of life,<br /> +To make the pulse cease beating, and to chill<br /> +The blood in its own vessels, till men come<br /> +And with a hook hale the poor body out,<br /> +And throw it in a ditch: the body, ay,—<br /> +What of the soul? that goes to heaven or hell.<br /> +Where will mine go?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Takes the torch from the +wall</i>, <i>and goes over to the bed</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">How peacefully here he sleeps,<br /> +Like a young schoolboy tired out with play:<br /> +I would that I could sleep so peacefully,<br /> +But I have dreams. [<i>Bending over him</i>.]<br /> +Poor boy: what if I kissed him?<br /> +No, no, my lips would burn him like a fire.<br /> +He has had enough of Love. Still that white neck<br /> +Will ’scape the headsman: I have seen to that:<br /> +He will get hence from Padua to-night,<br /> +And that is well. You are very wise, Lord Justices,<br /> +And yet you are not half so wise as I am,<br /> +And that is well.<br /> +O God! how I have loved you,<br /> +And what a bloody flower did Love bear!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Comes back to the +table</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">What if I drank these juices, and so ceased?<br +/> +Were it not better than to wait till Death<br /> +Come to my bed with all his serving men,<br /> +Remorse, disease, old age, and misery?<br /> +I wonder does one suffer much: I think<br /> +That I am very young to die like this,<br /> +But so it must be. Why, why should I die?<br /> +He will escape to-night, and so his blood<br /> +Will not be on my head. No, I must die;<br /> +I have been guilty, therefore I must die;<br /> +He loves me not, and therefore I must die:<br /> +I would die happier if he would kiss me,<br /> +But he will not do that. I did not know him.<br /> +I thought he meant to sell me to the Judge;<br /> +That is not strange; we women never know<br /> +Our lovers till they leave us.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Bell begins to toll</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou vile bell,<br /> +That like a bloodhound from thy brazen throat<br /> +Call’st for this man’s life, cease! thou shalt not +get it.<br /> +He stirs—I must be quick: [<i>Takes up cup</i>.]<br +/> +O Love, Love, Love,<br /> +I did not think that I would pledge thee thus!</p> +<p>[<i>Drinks poison</i>, <i>and sets the cup down on the table +behind her</i>: <i>the noise wakens</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span>, <i>who starts up</i>, <i>and does not +see what she has done</i>. <i>There is silence for a +minute</i>, <i>each looking at the other</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I do not come to ask your pardon now,<br /> +Seeing I know I stand beyond all pardon;<br /> +Enough of that: I have already, sir,<br /> +Confessed my sin to the Lords Justices;<br /> +They would not listen to me: and some said<br /> +I did invent a tale to save your life;<br /> +You have trafficked with me; others said<br /> +That women played with pity as with men;<br /> +Others that grief for my slain Lord and husband<br /> +Had robbed me of my wits: they would not hear me,<br /> +And, when I sware it on the holy book,<br /> +They bade the doctor cure me. They are ten,<br /> +Ten against one, and they possess your life.<br /> +They call me Duchess here in Padua.<br /> +I do not know, sir; if I be the Duchess,<br /> +I wrote your pardon, and they would not take it;<br /> +They call it treason, say I taught them that;<br /> +Maybe I did. Within an hour, Guido,<br /> +They will be here, and drag you from the cell,<br /> +And bind your hands behind your back, and bid you<br /> +Kneel at the block: I am before them there;<br /> +Here is the signet ring of Padua,<br /> +’Twill bring you safely through the men on guard;<br /> +There is my cloak and vizard; they have orders<br /> +Not to be curious: when you pass the gate<br /> +Turn to the left, and at the second bridge<br /> +You will find horses waiting: by to-morrow<br /> +You will be at Venice, safe. [<i>A pause</i>.]<br /> +Do you not speak?<br /> +Will you not even curse me ere you go?—<br /> +You have the right. [<i>A pause</i>.]<br /> +You do not understand<br /> +There lies between you and the headsman’s axe<br /> +Hardly so much sand in the hour-glass<br /> +As a child’s palm could carry: here is the ring:<br /> +I have washed my hand: there is no blood upon it:<br /> +You need not fear. Will you not take the ring?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>takes ring and kisses +it</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! gladly, Madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And leave Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Leave Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But it must be to-night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">To-night it shall be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, thank God for that!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">So I can live; life never seemed so sweet<br /> +As at this moment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Do not tarry, Guido,<br /> +There is my cloak: the horse is at the bridge,<br /> +The second bridge below the ferry house:<br /> +Why do you tarry? Can your ears not hear<br /> +This dreadful bell, whose every ringing stroke<br /> +Robs one brief minute from your boyish life.<br /> +Go quickly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay! he will come soon enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Who?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>calmly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Why, the headsman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Only he<br /> +Can bring me out of Padua.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You dare not!<br /> +You dare not burden my o’erburdened soul<br /> +With two dead men! I think one is enough.<br /> +For when I stand before God, face to face,<br /> +I would not have you, with a scarlet thread<br /> +Around your white throat, coming up behind<br /> +To say I did it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, I wait.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, you cannot: you do not understand,<br +/> +I have less power in Padua to-night<br /> +Than any common woman; they will kill you.<br /> +I saw the scaffold as I crossed the square,<br /> +Already the low rabble throng about it<br /> +With fearful jests, and horrid merriment,<br /> +As though it were a morris-dancer’s platform,<br /> +And not Death’s sable throne. O Guido, Guido,<br /> +You must escape!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Madam, I tarry here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido, you shall not: it would be a thing<br /> +So terrible that the amazed stars<br /> +Would fall from heaven, and the palsied moon<br /> +Be in her sphere eclipsed, and the great sun<br /> +Refuse to shine upon the unjust earth<br /> +Which saw thee die.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Be sure I shall not stir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>wringing her +hands</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Is one sin not enough, but must it breed<br /> +A second sin more horrible again<br /> +Than was the one that bare it? O God, God,<br /> +Seal up sin’s teeming womb, and make it barren,<br /> +I will not have more blood upon my hand<br /> +Than I have now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>seizing her hand</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">What! am I fallen so low<br /> +That I may not have leave to die for you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>tearing her hand +away</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Die for me?—no, my life is a vile +thing,<br /> +Thrown to the miry highways of this world;<br /> +You shall not die for me, you shall not, Guido;<br /> +I am a guilty woman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guilty?—let those<br /> +Who know what a thing temptation is,<br /> +Let those who have not walked as we have done,<br /> +In the red fire of passion, those whose lives<br /> +Are dull and colourless, in a word let those,<br /> +If any such there be, who have not loved,<br /> +Cast stones against you. As for me—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>falling at her +feet</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">You are my lady, and you are my love!<br /> +O hair of gold, O crimson lips, O face<br /> +Made for the luring and the love of man!<br /> +Incarnate image of pure loveliness!<br /> +Worshipping thee I do forget the past,<br /> +Worshipping thee my soul comes close to thine,<br /> +Worshipping thee I seem to be a god,<br /> +And though they give my body to the block,<br /> +Yet is my love eternal!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<span class="smcap">Duchess</span> +<i>puts her hands over her face</i>: <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>draws them down</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet, lift up<br /> +The trailing curtains that overhang your eyes<br /> +That I may look into those eyes, and tell you<br /> +I love you, never more than now when Death<br /> +Thrusts his cold lips between us: Beatrice,<br /> +I love you: have you no word left to say?<br /> +Oh, I can bear the executioner,<br /> +But not this silence: will you not say you love me?<br /> +Speak but that word and Death shall lose his sting,<br /> +But speak it not, and fifty thousand deaths<br /> +Are, in comparison, mercy. Oh, you are cruel,<br /> +And do not love me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! I have no right<br /> +For I have stained the innocent hands of love<br /> +With spilt-out blood: there is blood on the ground;<br /> +I set it there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet, it was not yourself,<br /> +It was some devil tempted you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>rising +suddenly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">No, no,<br /> +We are each our own devil, and we make<br /> +This world our hell.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Then let high Paradise<br /> +Fall into Tartarus! for I shall make<br /> +This world my heaven for a little space.<br /> +The sin was mine, if any sin there was.<br /> +’Twas I who nurtured murder in my heart,<br /> +Sweetened my meats, seasoned my wine with it,<br /> +And in my fancy slew the accursed Duke<br /> +A hundred times a day. Why, had this man<br /> +Died half so often as I wished him to,<br /> +Death had been stalking ever through the house,<br /> +And murder had not slept.<br /> +But you, fond heart,<br /> +Whose little eyes grew tender over a whipt hound,<br /> +You whom the little children laughed to see<br /> +Because you brought the sunlight where you passed,<br /> +You the white angel of God’s purity,<br /> +This which men call your sin, what was it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ay!<br /> +What was it? There are times it seems a dream,<br /> +An evil dream sent by an evil god,<br /> +And then I see the dead face in the coffin<br /> +And know it is no dream, but that my hand<br /> +Is red with blood, and that my desperate soul<br /> +Striving to find some haven for its love<br /> +From the wild tempest of this raging world,<br /> +Has wrecked its bark upon the rocks of sin.<br /> +What was it, said you?—murder merely? Nothing<br /> +But murder, horrible murder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, nay, nay,<br /> +’Twas but the passion-flower of your love<br /> +That in one moment leapt to terrible life,<br /> +And in one moment bare this gory fruit,<br /> +Which I had plucked in thought a thousand times.<br /> +My soul was murderous, but my hand refused;<br /> +Your hand wrought murder, but your soul was pure.<br /> +And so I love you, Beatrice, and let him<br /> +Who has no mercy for your stricken head,<br /> +Lack mercy up in heaven! Kiss me, sweet.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Tries to kiss her</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, your lips are pure, and mine are +soiled,<br /> +For Guilt has been my paramour, and Sin<br /> +Lain in my bed: O Guido, if you love me<br /> +Get hence, for every moment is a worm<br /> +Which gnaws your life away: nay, sweet, get hence,<br /> +And if in after time you think of me,<br /> +Think of me as of one who loved you more<br /> +Than anything on earth; think of me, Guido,<br /> +As of a woman merely, one who tried<br /> +To make her life a sacrifice to love,<br /> +And slew love in the trial: Oh, what is that?<br /> +The bell has stopped from ringing, and I hear<br /> +The feet of armed men upon the stair.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span> [<i>aside</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">That is the signal for the guard to come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why has the bell stopped ringing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">If you must know,<br /> +That stops my life on this side of the grave,<br /> +But on the other we shall meet again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, ’tis not too late: you must get +hence;<br /> +The horse is by the bridge, there is still time.<br /> +Away, away, you must not tarry here!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Noise of Soldiers in the +passage</i>.]</p> +<p>A <span class="smcap">Voice Outside</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Room for the Lord Justice of Padua!</p> +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> <i>is seen +through the grated window passing down the corridor preceded by +men bearing torches</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is too late.</p> +<p>A <span class="smcap">Voice Outside</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Room for the headsman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>sinks down</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh!</p> +<p>[<i>The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder is seen passing +the corridor</i>, <i>followed by Monks bearing candles</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this +poison.<br /> +I do not fear the headsman, but I would die<br /> +Not on the lonely scaffold.<br /> +But here,<br /> +Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell!</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Goes to the table and takes the +goblet up</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">What, art thou empty?</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Throws it to the +ground</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">O thou churlish gaoler,<br /> +Even of poisons niggard!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span> [<i>faintly</i>]</p> +<p class="poetry">Blame him not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God! you have not drunk it, Beatrice?<br /> +Tell me you have not?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Were I to deny it,<br /> +There is a fire eating at my heart<br /> +Which would find utterance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O treacherous love,<br /> +Why have you not left a drop for me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, it held but death enough for one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Is there no poison still upon your lips,<br /> +That I may draw it from them?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Why should you die?<br /> +You have not spilt blood, and so need not die:<br /> +I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die.<br /> +Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood?<br /> +Who said that? I forget.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Tarry for me,<br /> +Our souls will go together.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, you must live.<br /> +There are many other women in the world<br /> +Who will love you, and not murder for your sake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I love you only.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You need not die for that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ah, if we die together, love, why then<br /> +Can we not lie together in one grave?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">It is enough for us</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">And they will strew it<br /> +With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs:<br /> +I think there are no roses in the grave,<br /> +Or if there are, they all are withered now<br /> +Since my Lord went there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! dear Beatrice,<br /> +Your lips are roses that death cannot wither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips<br /> +Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes<br /> +Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms,<br /> +Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I do not care: Death has no power on love.<br +/> +And so by Love’s immortal sovereignty<br /> +I will die with you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But the grave is black,<br /> +And the pit black, so I must go before<br /> +To light the candles for your coming hither.<br /> +No, no, I will not die, I will not die.<br /> +Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave;<br /> +Stand between me and the angel of death,<br /> +And wrestle with him for me.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Thrusts</i> <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>in front of her with his back to +the audience</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I will kiss you,<br /> +When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial,<br /> +To stay the workings of this poison in me?<br /> +Are there no rivers left in Italy<br /> +That you will not fetch me one cup of water<br /> +To quench this fire?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O God!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You did not tell me<br /> +There was a drought in Italy, and no water:<br /> +Nothing but fire.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O Love!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Send for a leech,<br /> +Not him who stanched my husband, but another<br /> +We have no time: send for a leech, I say:<br /> +There is an antidote against each poison,<br /> +And he will sell it if we give him money.<br /> +Tell him that I will give him Padua,<br /> +For one short hour of life: I will not die.<br /> +Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me,<br /> +This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know<br /> +It was such pain to die: I thought that life<br /> +Had taken all the agonies to itself;<br /> +It seems it is not so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">O damnéd stars<br /> +Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, and bid<br /> +The moon, your mistress, shine no more to-night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Guido, why are we here? I think this +room<br /> +Is poorly furnished for a marriage chamber.<br /> +Let us get hence at once. Where are the horses?<br /> +We should be on our way to Venice now.<br /> +How cold the night is! We must ride faster.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>The Monks begin to chant +outside</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Music! It should be merrier; but grief<br +/> +Is of the fashion now—I know not why.<br /> +You must not weep: do we not love each other?—<br /> +That is enough. Death, what do you here?<br /> +You were not bidden to this table, sir;<br /> +Away, we have no need of you: I tell you<br /> +It was in wine I pledged you, not in poison.<br /> +They lied who told you that I drank your poison.<br /> +It was spilt upon the ground, like my Lord’s blood;<br /> +You came too late.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet, there is nothing there:<br /> +These things are only unreal shadows.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Death,<br /> +Why do you tarry, get to the upper chamber;<br /> +The cold meats of my husband’s funeral feast<br /> +Are set for you; this is a wedding feast.<br /> +You are out of place, sir; and, besides, ’tis summer.<br /> +We do not need these heavy fires now,<br /> +You scorch us.<br /> +Oh, I am burned up,<br /> +Can you do nothing? Water, give me water,<br /> +Or else more poison. No: I feel no pain—<br /> +Is it not curious I should feel no pain?—<br /> +And Death has gone away, I am glad of that.<br /> +I thought he meant to part us. Tell me, Guido,<br /> +Are you not sorry that you ever saw me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">I swear I would not have lived otherwise.<br /> +Why, in this dull and common world of ours<br /> +Men have died looking for such moments as this<br /> +And have not found them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Then you are not sorry?<br /> +How strange that seems.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">What, Beatrice, have I not<br /> +Stood face to face with beauty? That is enough<br /> +For one man’s life. Why, love, I could be merry;<br +/> +I have been often sadder at a feast,<br /> +But who were sad at such a feast as this<br /> +When Love and Death are both our cup-bearers?<br /> +We love and die together.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, I have been<br /> +Guilty beyond all women, and indeed<br /> +Beyond all women punished. Do you think—<br /> +No, that could not be—Oh, do you think that love<br /> +Can wipe the bloody stain from off my hands,<br /> +Pour balm into my wounds, heal up my hurts,<br /> +And wash my scarlet sins as white as snow?—<br /> +For I have sinned.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Guido</span></p> +<p class="poetry">They do not sin at all<br /> +Who sin for love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Duchess</span></p> +<p class="poetry">No, I have sinned, and yet<br /> +Perchance my sin will be forgiven me.<br /> +I have loved much</p> +<p>[<i>They kiss each other now for the first time in this +Act</i>, <i>when suddenly the</i> <span +class="smcap">Duchess</span> <i>leaps up in the dreadful spasm of +death</i>, <i>tears in agony at her dress</i>, <i>and +finally</i>, <i>with face twisted and distorted with pain</i>, +<i>falls back dead in a chair</i>. <span +class="smcap">Guido</span> <i>seizing her dagger from her +belt</i>, <i>kills himself</i>; <i>and</i>, <i>as he falls across +her knees</i>, <i>clutches at the cloak which is on the back of +the chair</i>, <i>and throws it entirely over her</i>. +<i>There is a little pause</i>. <i>Then down the passage +comes the tramp of Soldiers</i>; <i>the door is opened</i>, +<i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Justice</span>, <i>the +Headsman</i>, <i>and the Guard enter and see this figure shrouded +in black</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Guido</span> +<i>lying dead across her</i>. <i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Justice</span> <i>rushes forward and drags the +cloak off the</i> <span class="smcap">Duchess</span>, <i>whose +face is now the marble image of peace</i>, <i>the sign of +God’s forgiveness</i>.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Tableau</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">Curtain</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by T. and A. <span +class="smcap">Constable</span>, Printers to His Majesty<br /> +at the Edinburgh University Press</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUCHESS OF PADUA***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 875-h.htm or 875-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/7/875 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Duchess of Padua + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: April, 1997 [EBook #875] +[This file was first posted on April 9, 1997] +[Most recently updated: September 25, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE DUCHESS OF PADUA *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1916 Methuen and Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +THE DUCHESS OF PADUA + + + + +THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + +Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua +Beatrice, his Wife +Andreas Pollajuolo, Cardinal of Padua +Maffio Petrucci, } +Jeppo Vitellozzo, } Gentlemen of the Duke's Household +Taddeo Bardi, } +Guido Ferranti, a Young Man +Ascanio Cristofano, his Friend +Count Moranzone, an Old Man +Bernardo Cavalcanti, Lord Justice of Padua +Hugo, the Headsman +Lucy, a Tire woman + +Servants, Citizens, Soldiers, Monks, Falconers with their hawks and +dogs, etc. + +Place: Padua +Time: The latter half of the Sixteenth Century +Style of Architecture: Italian, Gothic and Romanesque. + +THE SCENES OF THE PLAY + + +ACT I. The Market Place of Padua (25 minutes). +ACT II. Room in the Duke's Palace (36 minutes). +ACT III. Corridor in the Duke's Palace (29 minutes). +ACT IV. The Hall of Justice (31 minutes). +ACT V. The Dungeon (25 minutes). + + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE + +The Market Place of Padua at noon; in the background is the great +Cathedral of Padua; the architecture is Romanesque, and wrought in +black and white marbles; a flight of marble steps leads up to the +Cathedral door; at the foot of the steps are two large stone lions; +the houses on each aide of the stage have coloured awnings from +their windows, and are flanked by stone arcades; on the right of +the stage is the public fountain, with a triton in green bronze +blowing from a conch; around the fountain is a stone seat; the bell +of the Cathedral is ringing, and the citizens, men, women and +children, are passing into the Cathedral. + +[Enter GUIDO FERRANTI and ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.] + +ASCANIO + +Now by my life, Guido, I will go no farther; for if I walk another +step I will have no life left to swear by; this wild-goose errand +of yours! + +[Sits down on the step of the fountain.] + +GUIDO + +I think it must be here. [Goes up to passer-by and doffs his cap.] +Pray, sir, is this the market place, and that the church of Santa +Croce? [Citizen bows.] I thank you, sir. + +ASCANIO + +Well? + +GUIDO + +Ay! it is here. + +ASCANIO + +I would it were somewhere else, for I see no wine-shop. + +GUIDO + +[Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it.] 'The hour noon; +the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint Philip's +Day.' + +ASCANIO + +And what of the man, how shall we know him? + +GUIDO + +[reading still] 'I will wear a violet cloak with a silver falcon +broidered on the shoulder.' A brave attire, Ascanio. + +ASCANIO + +I'd sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you +of your father? + +GUIDO + +Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the +vineyard, just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used +to get in, a man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave +me this letter, signed 'Your Father's Friend,' bidding me be here +to-day if I would know the secret of my birth, and telling me how +to recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my +uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left a +child in his charge by some one he had never since seen. + +ASCANIO + +And you don't know who your father is? + +GUIDO + +No. + +ASCANIO + +No recollection of him even? + +GUIDO + +None, Ascanio, none. + +ASCANIO + +[laughing] Then he could never have boxed your ears so often as my +father did mine. + +GUIDO + +[smiling] I am sure you never deserved it. + +ASCANIO + +Never; and that made it worse. I hadn't the consciousness of guilt +to buoy me up. What hour did you say he fixed? + +GUIDO + +Noon. [Clock in the Cathedral strikes.] + +ASCANIO + +It is that now, and your man has not come. I don't believe in him, +Guido. I think it is some wench who has set her eye at you; and, +as I have followed you from Perugia to Padua, I swear you shall +follow me to the nearest tavern. [Rises.] By the great gods of +eating, Guido, I am as hungry as a widow is for a husband, as tired +as a young maid is of good advice, and as dry as a monk's sermon. +Come, Guido, you stand there looking at nothing, like the fool who +tried to look into his own mind; your man will not come. + +GUIDO + +Well, I suppose you are right. Ah! [Just as he is leaving the +stage with ASCANIO, enter LORD MORANZONE in a violet cloak, with a +silver falcon broidered on the shoulder; he passes across to the +Cathedral, and just as he is going in GUIDO runs up and touches +him.] + +MORANZONE + +Guido Ferranti, thou hast come in time. + +GUIDO + +What! Does my father live? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! lives in thee. +Thou art the same in mould and lineament, +Carriage and form, and outward semblances; +I trust thou art in noble mind the same. + +GUIDO + +Oh, tell me of my father; I have lived +But for this moment. + +MORANZONE + +We must be alone. + +GUIDO + +This is my dearest friend, who out of love +Has followed me to Padua; as two brothers, +There is no secret which we do not share. + +MORANZONE + +There is one secret which ye shall not share; +Bid him go hence. + +GUIDO + +[to ASCANIO] Come back within the hour. +He does not know that nothing in this world +Can dim the perfect mirror of our love. +Within the hour come. + +ASCANIO + +Speak not to him, +There is a dreadful terror in his look. + +GUIDO + +[laughing] +Nay, nay, I doubt not that he has come to tell +That I am some great Lord of Italy, +And we will have long days of joy together. +Within the hour, dear Ascanio. +[Exit ASCANIO.] +Now tell me of my father? +[Sits down on a stone seat.] +Stood he tall? +I warrant he looked tall upon his horse. +His hair was black? or perhaps a reddish gold, +Like a red fire of gold? Was his voice low? +The very bravest men have voices sometimes +Full of low music; or a clarion was it +That brake with terror all his enemies? +Did he ride singly? or with many squires +And valiant gentlemen to serve his state? +For oftentimes methinks I feel my veins +Beat with the blood of kings. Was he a king? + +MORANZONE + +Ay, of all men he was the kingliest. + +GUIDO + +[proudly] Then when you saw my noble father last +He was set high above the heads of men? + +MORANZONE + +Ay, he was high above the heads of men, +[Walks over to GUIDO and puts his hand upon his shoulder.] +On a red scaffold, with a butcher's block +Set for his neck. + +GUIDO + +[leaping up] +What dreadful man art thou, +That like a raven, or the midnight owl, +Com'st with this awful message from the grave? + +MORANZONE + +I am known here as the Count Moranzone, +Lord of a barren castle on a rock, +With a few acres of unkindly land +And six not thrifty servants. But I was one +Of Parma's noblest princes; more than that, +I was your father's friend. + +GUIDO + +[clasping his hand] Tell me of him. + +MORANZONE + +You are the son of that great Duke Lorenzo, +He was the Prince of Parma, and the Duke +Of all the fair domains of Lombardy +Down to the gates of Florence; nay, Florence even +Was wont to pay him tribute - + +GUIDO + +Come to his death. + +MORANZONE + +You will hear that soon enough. Being at war - +O noble lion of war, that would not suffer +Injustice done in Italy!--he led +The very flower of chivalry against +That foul adulterous Lord of Rimini, +Giovanni Malatesta--whom God curse! +And was by him in treacherous ambush taken, +And like a villain, or a low-born knave, +Was by him on the public scaffold murdered. + +GUIDO + +[clutching his dagger] Doth Malatesta live? + +MORANZONE + +No, he is dead. + +GUIDO + +Did you say dead? O too swift runner, Death, +Couldst thou not wait for me a little space, +And I had done thy bidding! + +MORANZONE + +[clutching his wrist] Thou canst do it! +The man who sold thy father is alive. + +GUIDO + +Sold! was my father sold? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! trafficked for, +Like a vile chattel, for a price betrayed, +Bartered and bargained for in privy market +By one whom he had held his perfect friend, +One he had trusted, one he had well loved, +One whom by ties of kindness he had bound - + +GUIDO + +And he lives +Who sold my father? + +MORANZONE + +I will bring you to him. + +GUIDO + +So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will make +This world thy field of blood, so buy it straight-way, +For thou must hang there. + +MORANZONE + +Judas said you, boy? +Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still +He was more wise than Judas was, and held +Those thirty silver pieces not enough. + +GUIDO + +What got he for my father's blood? + +MORANZONE + +What got he? +Why cities, fiefs, and principalities, +Vineyards, and lands. + +GUIDO + +Of which he shall but keep +Six feet of ground to rot in. Where is he, +This damned villain, this foul devil? where? +Show me the man, and come he cased in steel, +In complete panoply and pride of war, +Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms, +Yet I shall reach him through their spears, and feel +The last black drop of blood from his black heart +Crawl down my blade. Show me the man, I say, +And I will kill him. + +MORANZONE + +[coldly] +Fool, what revenge is there? +Death is the common heritage of all, +And death comes best when it comes suddenly. +[Goes up close to GUIDO.] +Your father was betrayed, there is your cue; +For you shall sell the seller in his turn. +I will make you of his household, you shall sit +At the same board with him, eat of his bread - + +GUIDO + +O bitter bread! + +MORANZONE + +Thy palate is too nice, +Revenge will make it sweet. Thou shalt o' nights +Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and be +His intimate, so he will fawn on thee, +Love thee, and trust thee in all secret things. +If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh, +And if it be his humour to be sad +Thou shalt don sables. Then when the time is ripe - +[GUIDO clutches his sword.] +Nay, nay, I trust thee not; your hot young blood, +Undisciplined nature, and too violent rage +Will never tarry for this great revenge, +But wreck itself on passion. + +GUIDO + +Thou knowest me not. +Tell me the man, and I in everything +Will do thy bidding. + +MORANZONE + +Well, when the time is ripe, +The victim trusting and the occasion sure, +I will by sudden secret messenger +Send thee a sign. + +GUIDO + +How shall I kill him, tell me? + +MORANZONE + +That night thou shalt creep into his private chamber; +But if he sleep see that thou wake him first, +And hold thy hand upon his throat, ay! that way, +Then having told him of what blood thou art, +Sprung from what father, and for what revenge, +Bid him to pray for mercy; when he prays, +Bid him to set a price upon his life, +And when he strips himself of all his gold +Tell him thou needest not gold, and hast not mercy, +And do thy business straight away. Swear to me +Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it, +Or else I go to mine own house, and leave +Thee ignorant, and thy father unavenged. + +GUIDO + +Now by my father's sword - + +MORANZONE + +The common hangman +Brake that in sunder in the public square. + +GUIDO + +Then by my father's grave - + +MORANZONE + +What grave? what grave? +Your noble father lieth in no grave, +I saw his dust strewn on the air, his ashes +Whirled through the windy streets like common straws +To plague a beggar's eyesight, and his head, +That gentle head, set on the prison spike, +For the vile rabble in their insolence +To shoot their tongues at. + +GUIDO + +Was it so indeed? +Then by my father's spotless memory, +And by the shameful manner of his death, +And by the base betrayal by his friend, +For these at least remain, by these I swear +I will not lay my hand upon his life +Until you bid me, then--God help his soul, +For he shall die as never dog died yet. +And now, the sign, what is it? + +MORANZONE + +This dagger, boy; +It was your father's. + +GUIDO + +Oh, let me look at it! +I do remember now my reputed uncle, +That good old husbandman I left at home, +Told me a cloak wrapped round me when a babe +Bare too such yellow leopards wrought in gold; +I like them best in steel, as they are here, +They suit my purpose better. Tell me, sir, +Have you no message from my father to me? + +MORANZONE + +Poor boy, you never saw that noble father, +For when by his false friend he had been sold, +Alone of all his gentlemen I escaped +To bear the news to Parma to the Duchess. + +GUIDO + +Speak to me of my mother. + +MORANZONE + +When thy mother +Heard my black news, she fell into a swoon, +And, being with untimely travail seized - +Bare thee into the world before thy time, +And then her soul went heavenward, to wait +Thy father, at the gates of Paradise. + +GUIDO + +A mother dead, a father sold and bartered! +I seem to stand on some beleaguered wall, +And messenger comes after messenger +With a new tale of terror; give me breath, +Mine ears are tired. + +MORANZONE + +When thy mother died, +Fearing our enemies, I gave it out +Thou wert dead also, and then privily +Conveyed thee to an ancient servitor, +Who by Perugia lived; the rest thou knowest. + +GUIDO + +Saw you my father afterwards? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! once; +In mean attire, like a vineyard dresser, +I stole to Rimini. + +GUIDO + +[taking his hand] +O generous heart! + +MORANZONE + +One can buy everything in Rimini, +And so I bought the gaolers! when your father +Heard that a man child had been born to him, +His noble face lit up beneath his helm +Like a great fire seen far out at sea, +And taking my two hands, he bade me, Guido, +To rear you worthy of him; so I have reared you +To revenge his death upon the friend who sold him. + +GUIDO + +Thou hast done well; I for my father thank thee. +And now his name? + +MORANZONE + +How you remind me of him, +You have each gesture that your father had. + +GUIDO + +The traitor's name? + +MORANZONE + +Thou wilt hear that anon; +The Duke and other nobles at the Court +Are coming hither. + +GUIDO + +What of that? his name? + +MORANZONE + +Do they not seem a valiant company +Of honourable, honest gentlemen? + +GUIDO + +His name, milord? + +[Enter the DUKE OF PADUA with COUNT BARDI, MAFFIO, PETRUCCI, and +other gentlemen of his Court.] + +MORANZONE + +[quickly] +The man to whom I kneel +Is he who sold your father! mark me well. + +GUIDO + +[clutches hit dagger] +The Duke! + +MORANZONE + +Leave off that fingering of thy knife. +Hast thou so soon forgotten? +[Kneels to the DUKE.] +My noble Lord. + +DUKE + +Welcome, Count Moranzone; 'tis some time +Since we have seen you here in Padua. +We hunted near your castle yesterday - +Call you it castle? that bleak house of yours +Wherein you sit a-mumbling o'er your beads, +Telling your vices like a good old man. +[Catches sight of GUIDO and starts back.] +Who is that? + +MORANZONE + +My sister's son, your Grace, +Who being now of age to carry arms, +Would for a season tarry at your Court + +DUKE + +[still looking at GUIDO] +What is his name? + +MORANZONE + +Guido Ferranti, sir. + +DUKE + +His city? + +MORANZONE + +He is Mantuan by birth. + +DUKE + +[advancing towards GUIDO] +You have the eyes of one I used to know, +But he died childless. Are you honest, boy? +Then be not spendthrift of your honesty, +But keep it to yourself; in Padua +Men think that honesty is ostentatious, so +It is not of the fashion. Look at these lords. + +COUNT BARDI + +[aside] +Here is some bitter arrow for us, sure. + +DUKE + +Why, every man among them has his price, +Although, to do them justice, some of them +Are quite expensive. + +COUNT BARDI + +[aside] +There it comes indeed. + +DUKE + +So be not honest; eccentricity +Is not a thing should ever be encouraged, +Although, in this dull stupid age of ours, +The most eccentric thing a man can do +Is to have brains, then the mob mocks at him; +And for the mob, despise it as I do, +I hold its bubble praise and windy favours +In such account, that popularity +Is the one insult I have never suffered. + +MAFFIO + +[aside] + +He has enough of hate, if he needs that. + +DUKE + +Have prudence; in your dealings with the world +Be not too hasty; act on the second thought, +First impulses are generally good. + +GUIDO + +[aside] +Surely a toad sits on his lips, and spills its venom there. + +DUKE + +See thou hast enemies, +Else will the world think very little of thee; +It is its test of power; yet see thou show'st +A smiling mask of friendship to all men, +Until thou hast them safely in thy grip, +Then thou canst crush them. + +GUIDO + +[aside] +O wise philosopher! +That for thyself dost dig so deep a grave. + +MORANZONE + +[to him] +Dost thou mark his words? + +GUIDO + +Oh, be thou sure I do. + +DUKE + +And be not over-scrupulous; clean hands +With nothing in them make a sorry show. +If you would have the lion's share of life +You must wear the fox's skin. Oh, it will fit you; +It is a coat which fitteth every man. + +GUIDO + +Your Grace, I shall remember. + +DUKE + +That is well, boy, well. +I would not have about me shallow fools, +Who with mean scruples weigh the gold of life, +And faltering, paltering, end by failure; failure, +The only crime which I have not committed: +I would have MEN about me. As for conscience, +Conscience is but the name which cowardice +Fleeing from battle scrawls upon its shield. +You understand me, boy? + +GUIDO + +I do, your Grace, +And will in all things carry out the creed +Which you have taught me. + +MAFFIO + +I never heard your Grace +So much in the vein for preaching; let the Cardinal +Look to his laurels, sir. + +DUKE + +The Cardinal! +Men follow my creed, and they gabble his. +I do not think much of the Cardinal; +Although he is a holy churchman, and +I quite admit his dulness. Well, sir, from now +We count you of our household +[He holds out his hand for GUIDO to kiss. GUIDO starts back in +horror, but at a gesture from COUNT MORANZONE, kneels and kisses +it.] +We will see +That you are furnished with such equipage +As doth befit your honour and our state. + +GUIDO + +I thank your Grace most heartily. + +DUKE + +Tell me again +What is your name? + +GUIDO + +Guido Ferranti, sir. + +DUKE + +And you are Mantuan? Look to your wives, my lords, +When such a gallant comes to Padua. +Thou dost well to laugh, Count Bardi; I have noted +How merry is that husband by whose hearth +Sits an uncomely wife. + +MAFFIO + +May it please your Grace, +The wives of Padua are above suspicion. + +DUKE + +What, are they so ill-favoured! Let us go, +This Cardinal detains our pious Duchess; +His sermon and his beard want cutting both: +Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text +From holy Jerome? + +MORANZONE + +[bowing] +My liege, there are some matters - + +DUKE + +[interrupting] +Thou need'st make no excuse for missing mass. +Come, gentlemen. +[Exit with his suite into Cathedral.] + +GUIDO + +[after a pause] +So the Duke sold my father; +I kissed his hand. + +MORANZONE + +Thou shalt do that many times. + +GUIDO + +Must it be so? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! thou hast sworn an oath. + +GUIDO + +That oath shall make me marble. + +MORANZONE + +Farewell, boy, +Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe. + +GUIDO + +I pray thou comest quickly. + +MORANZONE + +I will come +When it is time; be ready. + +GUIDO + +Fear me not. + +MORANZONE + +Here is your friend; see that you banish him +Both from your heart and Padua. + +GUIDO + +From Padua, +Not from my heart. + +MORANZONE + +Nay, from thy heart as well, +I will not leave thee till I see thee do it. + +GUIDO + +Can I have no friend? + +MORANZONE + +Revenge shall be thy friend; +Thou need'st no other. + +GUIDO + +Well, then be it so. +[Enter ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.] + +ASCANIO + +Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in everything, for I +have drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and kissed the maid who +served it. Why, you look as melancholy as a schoolboy who cannot +buy apples, or a politician who cannot sell his vote. What news, +Guido, what news? + +GUIDO + +Why, that we two must part, Ascanio. + +ASCANIO + +That would be news indeed, but it is not true. + +GUIDO + +Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio, +And never look upon my face again. + +ASCANIO + +No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido; +'Tis true I am a common yeoman's son, +Nor versed in fashions of much courtesy; +But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be +Your serving man? I will tend you with more love +Than any hired servant. + +GUIDO + +[clasping his hand] +Ascanio! +[Sees MORANZONE looking at him and drops ASCANIO'S hand.] +It cannot be. + +ASCANIO + +What, is it so with you? +I thought the friendship of the antique world +Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type +Might even in this poor and common age +Find counterparts of love; then by this love +Which beats between us like a summer sea, +Whatever lot has fallen to your hand +May I not share it? + +GUIDO + +Share it? + +ASCANIO + +Ay! + +GUIDO + +No, no. + +ASCANIO + +Have you then come to some inheritance +Of lordly castle, or of stored-up gold? + +GUIDO + +[bitterly] +Ay! I have come to my inheritance. +O bloody legacy! and O murderous dole! +Which, like the thrifty miser, must I hoard, +And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you, +Let us part here. + +ASCANIO + +What, shall we never more +Sit hand in hand, as we were wont to sit, +Over some book of ancient chivalry +Stealing a truant holiday from school, +Follow the huntsmen through the autumn woods, +And watch the falcons burst their tasselled jesses, +When the hare breaks from covert. + +GUIDO + +Never more. + +ASCANIO + +Must I go hence without a word of love? + +GUIDO + +You must go hence, and may love go with you. + +ASCANIO + +You are unknightly, and ungenerous. + +GUIDO + +Unknightly and ungenerous if you will. +Why should we waste more words about the matter +Let us part now. + +ASCANIO + +Have you no message, Guido? + +GUIDO + +None; my whole past was but a schoolboy's dream; +To-day my life begins. Farewell. + +ASCANIO + +Farewell [exit slowly.] + +GUIDO + +Now are you satisfied? Have you not seen +My dearest friend, and my most loved companion, +Thrust from me like a common kitchen knave! +Oh, that I did it! Are you not satisfied? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! I am satisfied. Now I go hence, +Do not forget the sign, your father's dagger, +And do the business when I send it to you. + +GUIDO + +Be sure I shall. [Exit LORD MORANZONE.] + +GUIDO + +O thou eternal heaven! +If there is aught of nature in my soul, +Of gentle pity, or fond kindliness, +Wither it up, blast it, bring it to nothing, +Or if thou wilt not, then will I myself +Cut pity with a sharp knife from my heart +And strangle mercy in her sleep at night +Lest she speak to me. Vengeance there I have it. +Be thou my comrade and my bedfellow, +Sit by my side, ride to the chase with me, +When I am weary sing me pretty songs, +When I am light o' heart, make jest with me, +And when I dream, whisper into my ear +The dreadful secret of a father's murder - +Did I say murder? [Draws his dagger.] +Listen, thou terrible God! +Thou God that punishest all broken oaths, +And bid some angel write this oath in fire, +That from this hour, till my dear father's murder +In blood I have revenged, I do forswear +The noble ties of honourable friendship, +The noble joys of dear companionship, +Affection's bonds, and loyal gratitude, +Ay, more, from this same hour I do forswear +All love of women, and the barren thing +Which men call beauty - +[The organ peals in the Cathedral, and under a canopy of cloth of +silver tissue, borne by four pages in scarlet, the DUCHESS OF PADUA +comes down the steps; as she passes across their eyes meet for a +moment, and as she leaves the stage she looks back at GUIDO, and +the dagger falls from his hand.] +Oh! who is that? + +A CITIZEN + +The Duchess of Padua! + +END OF ACT I. + + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE + +A state room in the Ducal Palace, hung with tapestries representing +the Masque of Venus; a large door in the centre opens into a +corridor of red marble, through which one can see a view of Padua; +a large canopy is set (R.C.) with three thrones, one a little lower +than the others; the ceiling is made of long gilded beams; +furniture of the period, chairs covered with gilt leather, and +buffets set with gold and silver plate, and chests painted with +mythological scenes. A number of the courtiers is out on the +corridor looking from it down into the street below; from the +street comes the roar of a mob and cries of 'Death to the Duke': +after a little interval enter the Duke very calmly; he is leaning +on the arm of Guido Ferranti; with him enters also the Lord +Cardinal; the mob still shouting. + +DUKE + +No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her! +Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good. + +MAFFIO + +[excitedly] +Your Grace, there are two thousand people there +Who every moment grow more clamorous. + +DUKE + +Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs! +People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing; +The only men I fear are silent men. +[A yell from the people.] +You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love me. +[Another yell.] Go, Petrucci, +And tell the captain of the guard below +To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir? +Do what I bid you. + +[Exit PETRUCCI.] + +CARDINAL + +I beseech your Grace +To listen to their grievances. + +DUKE + +[sitting on his throne] +Ay! the peaches +Are not so big this year as they were last. +I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal, +I thought you spake of peaches. +[A cheer from the people.] +What is that? + +GUIDO + +[rushes to the window] +The Duchess has gone forth into the square, +And stands between the people and the guard, +And will not let them shoot. + +DUKE + +The devil take her! + +GUIDO + +[still at the window] +And followed by a dozen of the citizens +Has come into the Palace. + +DUKE + +[starting up] +By Saint James, +Our Duchess waxes bold! + +BARDI + +Here comes the Duchess. + +DUKE + +Shut that door there; this morning air is cold. +[They close the door on the corridor.] +[Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed Citizens.] + +DUCHESS + +[flinging herself upon her knees] +I do beseech your Grace to give us audience. + +DUKE + +What are these grievances? + +DUCHESS + +Alas, my Lord, +Such common things as neither you nor I, +Nor any of these noble gentlemen, +Have ever need at all to think about; +They say the bread, the very bread they eat, +Is made of sorry chaff. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Ay! so it is, +Nothing but chaff. + +DUKE + +And very good food too, +I give it to my horses. + +DUCHESS + +[restraining herself] +They say the water, +Set in the public cisterns for their use, +[Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,] +To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned. + +DUKE + +They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs +Take at the city gate are grown so high +We cannot buy wine. + +DUKE + +Then you should bless the taxes +Which make you temperate. + +DUCHESS + +Think, while we sit +In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty +Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives +Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily +And no word said. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Ay! marry, that is true, +My little son died yesternight from hunger; +He was but six years old; I am so poor, +I cannot bury him. + +DUKE + +If you are poor, +Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty +Is one of the Christian virtues, +[Turns to the CARDINAL.] +Is it not? +I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues, +Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates +For preaching voluntary poverty. + +DUCHESS + +Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous; +While we sit here within a noble house +[With shaded porticoes against the sun, +And walls and roofs to keep the winter out], +There are many citizens of Padua +Who in vile tenements live so full of holes, +That the chill rain, the snow, and the rude blast, +Are tenants also with them; others sleep +Under the arches of the public bridges +All through the autumn nights, till the wet mist +Stiffens their limbs, and fevers come, and so - + +DUKE + +And so they go to Abraham's bosom, Madam. +They should thank me for sending them to Heaven, +If they are wretched here. +[To the CARDINAL.] +Is it not said +Somewhere in Holy Writ, that every man +Should be contented with that state of life +God calls him to? Why should I change their state, +Or meddle with an all-wise providence, +Which has apportioned that some men should starve, +And others surfeit? I did not make the world. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +He hath a hard heart. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Nay, be silent, neighbour; +I think the Cardinal will speak for us. + +CARDINAL + +True, it is Christian to bear misery, +Yet it is Christian also to be kind, +And there seem many evils in this town, +Which in your wisdom might your Grace reform. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +What is that word reform? What does it mean? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Marry, it means leaving things as they are; I like it not. + +DUKE + +Reform Lord Cardinal, did YOU say reform? +There is a man in Germany called Luther, +Who would reform the Holy Catholic Church. +Have you not made him heretic, and uttered +Anathema, maranatha, against him? + +CARDINAL + +[rising from his seat] +He would have led the sheep out of the fold, +We do but ask of you to feed the sheep. + +DUKE + +When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed them. +As for these rebels - +[DUCHESS entreats him.] + +FIRST CITIZEN + +That is a kind word, +He means to give us something. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Is that so? + +DUKE + +These ragged knaves who come before us here, +With mouths chock-full of treason. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Good my Lord, +Fill up our mouths with bread; we'll hold our tongues. + +DUKE + +Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve or not. +My lords, this age is so familiar grown, +That the low peasant hardly doffs his hat, +Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic +Elbows the noble in the public streets. +[To the Citizens.] +Still as our gentle Duchess has so prayed us, +And to refuse so beautiful a beggar +Were to lack both courtesy and love, +Touching your grievances, I promise this - + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Marry, he will lighten the taxes! + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Or a dole of bread, think you, for each man? + +DUKE + +That, on next Sunday, the Lord Cardinal +Shall, after Holy Mass, preach you a sermon +Upon the Beauty of Obedience. +[Citizens murmur.] + +FIRST CITIZEN + +I' faith, that will not fill our stomachs! + +SECOND CITIZEN + +A sermon is but a sorry sauce, when +You have nothing to eat with it. + +DUCHESS + +Poor people, +You see I have no power with the Duke, +But if you go into the court without, +My almoner shall from my private purse, +Divide a hundred ducats 'mongst you all. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +God save the Duchess, say I. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +God save her. + +DUCHESS + +And every Monday morn shall bread be set +For those who lack it. +[Citizens applaud and go out.] + +FIRST CITIZEN + +[going out] +Why, God save the Duchess again! + +DUKE + +[calling him back] +Come hither, fellow! what is your name? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Dominick, sir. + +DUKE + +A good name! Why were you called Dominick? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +[scratching his head] +Marry, because I was born on St. George's day. + +DUKE + +A good reason! here is a ducat for you! +Will you not cry for me God save the Duke? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +[feebly] +God save the Duke. + +DUKE + +Nay! louder, fellow, louder. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +[a little louder] +God save the Duke! + +DUKE + +More lustily, fellow, put more heart in it! +Here is another ducat for you. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +[enthusiastically] +God save the Duke! + +DUKE + +[mockingly] +Why, gentlemen, this simple fellow's love +Touches me much. [To the Citizen, harshly.] +Go! [Exit Citizen, bowing.] +This is the way, my lords, +You can buy popularity nowadays. +Oh, we are nothing if not democratic! +[To the DUCHESS.] +Well, Madam, +You spread rebellion 'midst our citizens. + +DUCHESS + +My Lord, the poor have rights you cannot touch, +The right to pity, and the right to mercy. + +DUKE + +So, so, you argue with me? This is she, +The gentle Duchess for whose hand I yielded +Three of the fairest towns in Italy, +Pisa, and Genoa, and Orvieto. + +DUCHESS + +Promised, my Lord, not yielded: in that matter +Brake you your word as ever. + +DUKE + +You wrong us, Madam, +There were state reasons. + +DUCHESS + +What state reasons are there +For breaking holy promises to a state? + +DUKE + +There are wild boars at Pisa in a forest +Close to the city: when I promised Pisa +Unto your noble and most trusting father, +I had forgotten there was hunting there. +At Genoa they say, +Indeed I doubt them not, that the red mullet +Runs larger in the harbour of that town +Than anywhere in Italy. +[Turning to one of the Court.] +You, my lord, +Whose gluttonous appetite is your only god, +Could satisfy our Duchess on that point. + +DUCHESS + +And Orvieto? + +DUKE + +[yawning] +I cannot now recall +Why I did not surrender Orvieto +According to the word of my contract. +Maybe it was because I did not choose. +[Goes over to the DUCHESS.] +Why look you, Madam, you are here alone; +'Tis many a dusty league to your grey France, +And even there your father barely keeps +A hundred ragged squires for his Court. +What hope have you, I say? Which of these lords +And noble gentlemen of Padua +Stands by your side. + +DUCHESS + +There is not one. + +[GUIDO starts, but restrains himself.] + +DUKE + +Nor shall be, +While I am Duke in Padua: listen, Madam, +Being mine own, you shall do as I will, +And if it be my will you keep the house, +Why then, this palace shall your prison be; +And if it be my will you walk abroad, +Why, you shall take the air from morn to night. + +DUCHESS + +Sir, by what right -? + +DUKE + +Madam, my second Duchess +Asked the same question once: her monument +Lies in the chapel of Bartholomew, +Wrought in red marble; very beautiful. +Guido, your arm. Come, gentlemen, let us go +And spur our falcons for the mid-day chase. +Bethink you, Madam, you are here alone. +[Exit the DUKE leaning on GUIDO, with his Court.] + +DUCHESS + +[looking after them] +The Duke said rightly that I was alone; +Deserted, and dishonoured, and defamed, +Stood ever woman so alone indeed? +Men when they woo us call us pretty children, +Tell us we have not wit to make our lives, +And so they mar them for us. Did I say woo? +We are their chattels, and their common slaves, +Less dear than the poor hound that licks their hand, +Less fondled than the hawk upon their wrist. +Woo, did I say? bought rather, sold and bartered, +Our very bodies being merchandise. +I know it is the general lot of women, +Each miserably mated to some man +Wrecks her own life upon his selfishness: +That it is general makes it not less bitter. +I think I never heard a woman laugh, +Laugh for pure merriment, except one woman, +That was at night time, in the public streets. +Poor soul, she walked with painted lips, and wore +The mask of pleasure: I would not laugh like her; +No, death were better. +[Enter GUIDO behind unobserved; the DUCHESS flings herself down +before a picture of the Madonna.] +O Mary mother, with your sweet pale face +Bending between the little angel heads +That hover round you, have you no help for me? +Mother of God, have you no help for me? + +GUIDO + +I can endure no longer. +This is my love, and I will speak to her. +Lady, am I a stranger to your prayers? + +DUCHESS + +[rising] +None but the wretched needs my prayers, my lord. + +GUIDO + +Then must I need them, lady. + +DUCHESS + +How is that? +Does not the Duke show thee sufficient honour? + +GUIDO + +Your Grace, I lack no favours from the Duke, +Whom my soul loathes as I loathe wickedness, +But come to proffer on my bended knees, +My loyal service to thee unto death. + +DUCHESS + +Alas! I am so fallen in estate +I can but give thee a poor meed of thanks. + +GUIDO + +[seizing her hand] +Hast thou no love to give me? +[The DUCHESS starts, and GUIDO falls at her feet.] +O dear saint, +If I have been too daring, pardon me! +Thy beauty sets my boyish blood aflame, +And, when my reverent lips touch thy white hand, +Each little nerve with such wild passion thrills +That there is nothing which I would not do +To gain thy love. [Leaps up.] +Bid me reach forth and pluck +Perilous honour from the lion's jaws, +And I will wrestle with the Nemean beast +On the bare desert! Fling to the cave of War +A gaud, a ribbon, a dead flower, something +That once has touched thee, and I'll bring it back +Though all the hosts of Christendom were there, +Inviolate again! ay, more than this, +Set me to scale the pallid white-faced cliffs +Of mighty England, and from that arrogant shield +Will I raze out the lilies of your France +Which England, that sea-lion of the sea, +Hath taken from her! +O dear Beatrice, +Drive me not from thy presence! without thee +The heavy minutes crawl with feet of lead, +But, while I look upon thy loveliness, +The hours fly like winged Mercuries +And leave existence golden. + +DUCHESS + +I did not think +I should be ever loved: do you indeed +Love me so much as now you say you do? + +GUIDO + +Ask of the sea-bird if it loves the sea, +Ask of the roses if they love the rain, +Ask of the little lark, that will not sing +Till day break, if it loves to see the day:- +And yet, these are but empty images, +Mere shadows of my love, which is a fire +So great that all the waters of the main +Can not avail to quench it. Will you not speak? + +DUCHESS + +I hardly know what I should say to you. + +GUIDO + +Will you not say you love me? + +DUCHESS + +Is that my lesson? +Must I say all at once? 'Twere a good lesson +If I did love you, sir; but, if I do not, +What shall I say then? + +GUIDO + +If you do not love me, +Say, none the less, you do, for on your tongue +Falsehood for very shame would turn to truth. + +DUCHESS + +What if I do not speak at all? They say +Lovers are happiest when they are in doubt + +GUIDO + +Nay, doubt would kill me, and if I must die, +Why, let me die for joy and not for doubt. +Oh, tell me may I stay, or must I go? + +DUCHESS + +I would not have you either stay or go; +For if you stay you steal my love from me, +And if you go you take my love away. +Guido, though all the morning stars could sing +They could not tell the measure of my love. +I love you, Guido. + +GUIDO + +[stretching out his hands] +Oh, do not cease at all; +I thought the nightingale sang but at night; +Or if thou needst must cease, then let my lips +Touch the sweet lips that can such music make. + +DUCHESS + +To touch my lips is not to touch my heart. + +GUIDO + +Do you close that against me? + +DUCHESS + +Alas! my lord, +I have it not: the first day that I saw you +I let you take my heart away from me; +Unwilling thief, that without meaning it +Did break into my fenced treasury +And filch my jewel from it! O strange theft, +Which made you richer though you knew it not, +And left me poorer, and yet glad of it! + +GUIDO + +[clasping her in his arms] +O love, love, love! Nay, sweet, lift up your head, +Let me unlock those little scarlet doors +That shut in music, let me dive for coral +In your red lips, and I'll bear back a prize +Richer than all the gold the Gryphon guards +In rude Armenia. + +DUCHESS + +You are my lord, +And what I have is yours, and what I have not +Your fancy lends me, like a prodigal +Spending its wealth on what is nothing worth. +[Kisses him.] + +GUIDO + +Methinks I am bold to look upon you thus: +The gentle violet hides beneath its leaf +And is afraid to look at the great sun +For fear of too much splendour, but my eyes, +O daring eyes! are grown so venturous +That like fixed stars they stand, gazing at you, +And surfeit sense with beauty. + +DUCHESS + +Dear love, I would +You could look upon me ever, for your eyes +Are polished mirrors, and when I peer +Into those mirrors I can see myself, +And so I know my image lives in you. + +GUIDO + +[taking her in his arms] +Stand still, thou hurrying orb in the high heavens, +And make this hour immortal! [A pause.] + +DUCHESS + +Sit down here, +A little lower than me: yes, just so, sweet, +That I may run my fingers through your hair, +And see your face turn upwards like a flower +To meet my kiss. +Have you not sometimes noted, +When we unlock some long-disused room +With heavy dust and soiling mildew filled, +Where never foot of man has come for years, +And from the windows take the rusty bar, +And fling the broken shutters to the air, +And let the bright sun in, how the good sun +Turns every grimy particle of dust +Into a little thing of dancing gold? +Guido, my heart is that long-empty room, +But you have let love in, and with its gold +Gilded all life. Do you not think that love +Fills up the sum of life? + +GUIDO + +Ay! without love +Life is no better than the unhewn stone +Which in the quarry lies, before the sculptor +Has set the God within it. Without love +Life is as silent as the common reeds +That through the marshes or by rivers grow, +And have no music in them. + +DUCHESS + +Yet out of these +The singer, who is Love, will make a pipe +And from them he draws music; so I think +Love will bring music out of any life. +Is that not true? + +GUIDO + +Sweet, women make it true. +There are men who paint pictures, and carve statues, +Paul of Verona and the dyer's son, +Or their great rival, who, by the sea at Venice, +Has set God's little maid upon the stair, +White as her own white lily, and as tall, +Or Raphael, whose Madonnas are divine +Because they are mothers merely; yet I think +Women are the best artists of the world, +For they can take the common lives of men +Soiled with the money-getting of our age, +And with love make them beautiful. + +DUCHESS + +Ah, dear, +I wish that you and I were very poor; +The poor, who love each other, are so rich. + +GUIDO + +Tell me again you love me, Beatrice. + +DUCHESS + +[fingering his collar] +How well this collar lies about your throat. +[LORD MORANZONE looks through the door from the corridor outside.] + +GUIDO + +Nay, tell me that you love me. + +DUCHESS + +I remember, +That when I was a child in my dear France, +Being at Court at Fontainebleau, the King +Wore such a collar. + +GUIDO + +Will you not say you love me? + +DUCHESS + +[smiling] +He was a very royal man, King Francis, +Yet he was not royal as you are. +Why need I tell you, Guido, that I love you? +[Takes his head in her hands and turns his face up to her.] +Do you not know that I am yours for ever, +Body and soul? +[Kisses him, and then suddenly catches sight of MORANZONE and leaps +up.] +Oh, what is that? [MORANZONE disappears.] + +GUIDO + +What, love? + +DUCHESS + +Methought I saw a face with eyes of flame +Look at us through the doorway. + +GUIDO + +Nay, 'twas nothing: +The passing shadow of the man on guard. +[The DUCHESS still stands looking at the window.] +'Twas nothing, sweet. + +DUCHESS + +Ay! what can harm us now, +Who are in Love's hand? I do not think I'd care +Though the vile world should with its lackey Slander +Trample and tread upon my life; why should I? +They say the common field-flowers of the field +Have sweeter scent when they are trodden on +Than when they bloom alone, and that some herbs +Which have no perfume, on being bruised die +With all Arabia round them; so it is +With the young lives this dull world seeks to crush, +It does but bring the sweetness out of them, +And makes them lovelier often. And besides, +While we have love we have the best of life: +Is it not so? + +GUIDO + +Dear, shall we play or sing? +I think that I could sing now. + +DUCHESS + +Do not speak, +For there are times when all existences +Seem narrowed to one single ecstasy, +And Passion sets a seal upon the lips. + +GUIDO + +Oh, with mine own lips let me break that seal! +You love me, Beatrice? + +DUCHESS + +Ay! is it not strange +I should so love mine enemy? + +GUIDO + +Who is he? + +DUCHESS + +Why, you: that with your shaft did pierce my heart! +Poor heart, that lived its little lonely life +Until it met your arrow. + +GUIDO + +Ah, dear love, +I am so wounded by that bolt myself +That with untended wounds I lie a-dying, +Unless you cure me, dear Physician. + +DUCHESS + +I would not have you cured; for I am sick +With the same malady. + +GUIDO + +Oh, how I love you! +See, I must steal the cuckoo's voice, and tell +The one tale over. + +DUCHESS + +Tell no other tale! +For, if that is the little cuckoo's song, +The nightingale is hoarse, and the loud lark +Has lost its music. + +GUIDO + +Kiss me, Beatrice! +[She takes his face in her hands and bends down and kisses him; a +loud knocking then comes at the door, and GUIDO leaps up; enter a +Servant.] + +SERVANT + +A package for you, sir. + +GUIDO + +[carelessly] Ah! give it to me. [Servant hands package wrapped in +vermilion silk, and exit; as GUIDO is about to open it the DUCHESS +comes up behind, and in sport takes it from him.] + +DUCHESS + +[laughing] +Now I will wager it is from some girl +Who would have you wear her favour; I am so jealous +I will not give up the least part in you, +But like a miser keep you to myself, +And spoil you perhaps in keeping. + +GUIDO + +It is nothing. + +DUCHESS + +Nay, it is from some girl. + +GUIDO + +You know 'tis not. + +DUCHESS + +[turns her back and opens it] +Now, traitor, tell me what does this sign mean, +A dagger with two leopards wrought in steel? + +GUIDO + +[taking it from her] O God! + +DUCHESS + +I'll from the window look, and try +If I can't see the porter's livery +Who left it at the gate! I will not rest +Till I have learned your secret. +[Runs laughing into the corridor.] + +GUIDO + +Oh, horrible! +Had I so soon forgot my father's death, +Did I so soon let love into my heart, +And must I banish love, and let in murder +That beats and clamours at the outer gate? +Ay, that I must! Have I not sworn an oath? +Yet not to-night; nay, it must be to-night. +Farewell then all the joy and light of life, +All dear recorded memories, farewell, +Farewell all love! Could I with bloody hands +Fondle and paddle with her innocent hands? +Could I with lips fresh from this butchery +Play with her lips? Could I with murderous eyes +Look in those violet eyes, whose purity +Would strike men blind, and make each eyeball reel +In night perpetual? No, murder has set +A barrier between us far too high +For us to kiss across it. + +DUCHESS + +Guido! + +GUIDO + +Beatrice, +You must forget that name, and banish me +Out of your life for ever. + +DUCHESS + +[going towards him] +O dear love! + +GUIDO + +[stepping back] +There lies a barrier between us two +We dare not pass. + +DUCHESS + +I dare do anything +So that you are beside me. + +GUIDO + +Ah! There it is, +I cannot be beside you, cannot breathe +The air you breathe; I cannot any more +Stand face to face with beauty, which unnerves +My shaking heart, and makes my desperate hand +Fail of its purpose. Let me go hence, I pray; +Forget you ever looked upon me. + +DUCHESS + +What! +With your hot kisses fresh upon my lips +Forget the vows of love you made to me? + +GUIDO + +I take them back. + +DUCHESS + +Alas, you cannot, Guido, +For they are part of nature now; the air +Is tremulous with their music, and outside +The little birds sing sweeter for those vows. + +GUIDO + +There lies a barrier between us now, +Which then I knew not, or I had forgot. + +DUCHESS + +There is no barrier, Guido; why, I will go +In poor attire, and will follow you +Over the world. + +GUIDO + +[wildly] +The world's not wide enough +To hold us two! Farewell, farewell for ever. + +DUCHESS + +[calm, and controlling her passion] +Why did you come into my life at all, then, +Or in the desolate garden of my heart +Sow that white flower of love -? + +GUIDO + +O Beatrice! + +DUCHESS + +Which now you would dig up, uproot, tear out, +Though each small fibre doth so hold my heart +That if you break one, my heart breaks with it? +Why did you come into my life? Why open +The secret wells of love I had sealed up? +Why did you open them -? + +GUIDO + +O God! + +DUCHESS + +[clenching her hand] +And let +The floodgates of my passion swell and burst +Till, like the wave when rivers overflow +That sweeps the forest and the farm away, +Love in the splendid avalanche of its might +Swept my life with it? Must I drop by drop +Gather these waters back and seal them up? +Alas! Each drop will be a tear, and so +Will with its saltness make life very bitter. + +GUIDO + +I pray you speak no more, for I must go +Forth from your life and love, and make a way +On which you cannot follow. + +DUCHESS + +I have heard +That sailors dying of thirst upon a raft, +Poor castaways upon a lonely sea, +Dream of green fields and pleasant water-courses, +And then wake up with red thirst in their throats, +And die more miserably because sleep +Has cheated them: so they die cursing sleep +For having sent them dreams: I will not curse you +Though I am cast away upon the sea +Which men call Desolation. + +GUIDO + +O God, God! + +DUCHESS + +But you will stay: listen, I love you, Guido. +[She waits a little.] +Is echo dead, that when I say I love you +There is no answer? + +GUIDO + +Everything is dead, +Save one thing only, which shall die to-night! + +DUCHESS + +If you are going, touch me not, but go. +[Exit GUIDO.] +Barrier! Barrier! +Why did he say there was a barrier? +There is no barrier between us two. +He lied to me, and shall I for that reason +Loathe what I love, and what I worshipped, hate? +I think we women do not love like that. +For if I cut his image from my heart, +My heart would, like a bleeding pilgrim, follow +That image through the world, and call it back +With little cries of love. +[Enter DUKE equipped for the chase, with falconers and hounds.] + +DUKE + +Madam, you keep us waiting; +You keep my dogs waiting. + +DUCHESS + +I will not ride to-day. + +DUKE + +How now, what's this? + +DUCHESS + +My Lord, I cannot go. + +DUKE + +What, pale face, do you dare to stand against me? +Why, I could set you on a sorry jade +And lead you through the town, till the low rabble +You feed toss up their hats and mock at you. + +DUCHESS + +Have you no word of kindness ever for me? + +DUKE + +I hold you in the hollow of my hand +And have no need on you to waste kind words. + +DUCHESS + +Well, I will go. + +DUKE + +[slapping his boot with his whip] +No, I have changed my mind, +You will stay here, and like a faithful wife +Watch from the window for our coming back. +Were it not dreadful if some accident +By chance should happen to your loving Lord? +Come, gentlemen, my hounds begin to chafe, +And I chafe too, having a patient wife. +Where is young Guido? + +MAFFIO + +My liege, I have not seen him +For a full hour past. + +DUKE + +It matters not, +I dare say I shall see him soon enough. +Well, Madam, you will sit at home and spin. +I do protest, sirs, the domestic virtues +Are often very beautiful in others. + +[Exit DUKE with his Court.] + +DUCHESS + +The stars have fought against me, that is all, +And thus to-night when my Lord lieth asleep, +Will I fall upon my dagger, and so cease. +My heart is such a stone nothing can reach it +Except the dagger's edge: let it go there, +To find what name it carries: ay! to-night +Death will divorce the Duke; and yet to-night +He may die also, he is very old. +Why should he not die? Yesterday his hand +Shook with a palsy: men have died from palsy, +And why not he? Are there not fevers also, +Agues and chills, and other maladies +Most incident to old age? +No, no, he will not die, he is too sinful; +Honest men die before their proper time. +Good men will die: men by whose side the Duke +In all the sick pollution of his life +Seems like a leper: women and children die, +But the Duke will not die, he is too sinful. +Oh, can it be +There is some immortality in sin, +Which virtue has not? And does the wicked man +Draw life from what to other men were death, +Like poisonous plants that on corruption live? +No, no, I think God would not suffer that: +Yet the Duke will not die: he is too sinful. +But I will die alone, and on this night +Grim Death shall be my bridegroom, and the tomb +My secret house of pleasure: well, what of that? +The world's a graveyard, and we each, like coffins, +Within us bear a skeleton. +[Enter LORD MORANZONE all in black; he passes across the back of +the stage looking anxiously about.] + +MORANZONE + +Where is Guido? +I cannot find him anywhere. + +DUCHESS + +[catches sight of him] O God! +'Twas thou who took my love away from me. + +MORANZONE + +[with a look of joy] +What, has he left you? + +DUCHESS + +Nay, you know he has. +Oh, give him back to me, give him back, I say, +Or I will tear your body limb from limb, +And to the common gibbet nail your head +Until the carrion crows have stripped it bare. +Better you had crossed a hungry lioness +Before you came between me and my love. +[With more pathos.] +Nay, give him back, you know not how I love him. +Here by this chair he knelt a half hour since; +'Twas there he stood, and there he looked at me; +This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears +Into whose open portals he did pour +A tale of love so musical that all +The birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me. + +MORANZONE + +He does not love you, Madam. + +DUCHESS + +May the plague +Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back. + +MORANZONE + +Madam, I tell you you will never see him, +Neither to-night, nor any other night. + +DUCHESS + +What is your name? + +MORANZONE + +My name? Revenge! +[Exit.] + +DUCHESS + +Revenge! +I think I never harmed a little child. +What should Revenge do coming to my door? +It matters not, for Death is there already, +Waiting with his dim torch to light my way. +'Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think +Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover, +And so dispatch the messengers at once, +Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day, +And let the night, thy sister, come instead, +And drape the world in mourning; let the owl, +Who is thy minister, scream from his tower +And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat, +That is the slave of dim Persephone, +Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing! +Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth +And bid them make us music, and tell the mole +To dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed, +For I shall lie within thine arms to-night. + +END OF ACT II. + + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE + +A large corridor in the Ducal Palace: a window (L.C.) looks out on +a view of Padua by moonlight: a staircase (R.C.) leads up to a +door with a portiere of crimson velvet, with the Duke's arms +embroidered in gold on it: on the lowest step of the staircase a +figure draped in black is sitting: the hall is lit by an iron +cresset filled with burning tow: thunder and lightning outside: +the time is night. + +[Enter GUIDO through the window.] + +GUIDO + +The wind is rising: how my ladder shook! +I thought that every gust would break the cords! +[Looks out at the city.] +Christ! What a night: +Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings +Striking from pinnacle to pinnacle +Across the city, till the dim houses seem +To shudder and to shake as each new glare +Dashes adown the street. +[Passes across the stage to foot of staircase.] +Ah! who art thou +That sittest on the stair, like unto Death +Waiting a guilty soul? [A pause.] +Canst thou not speak? +Or has this storm laid palsy on thy tongue, +And chilled thy utterance? +[The figure rises and takes off his mask.] + +MORANZONE + +Guido Ferranti, +Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night. + +GUIDO + +[confusedly] +What, art thou here? + +MORANZONE + +Ay, waiting for your coming. + +GUIDO + +[looking away from him] +I did not think to see you, but am glad, +That you may know the thing I mean to do. + +MORANZONE + +First, I would have you know my well-laid plans; +Listen: I have set horses at the gate +Which leads to Parma: when you have done your business +We will ride hence, and by to-morrow night - + +GUIDO + +It cannot be. + +MORANZONE + +Nay, but it shall. + +GUIDO + +Listen, Lord Moranzone, +I am resolved not to kill this man. + +MORANZONE + +Surely my ears are traitors, speak again: +It cannot be but age has dulled my powers, +I am an old man now: what did you say? +You said that with that dagger in your belt +You would avenge your father's bloody murder; +Did you not say that? + +GUIDO + +No, my lord, I said +I was resolved not to kill the Duke. + +MORANZONE + +You said not that; it is my senses mock me; +Or else this midnight air o'ercharged with storm +Alters your message in the giving it. + +GUIDO + +Nay, you heard rightly; I'll not kill this man. + +MORANZONE + +What of thine oath, thou traitor, what of thine oath? + +GUIDO + +I am resolved not to keep that oath. + +MORANZONE + +What of thy murdered father? + +GUIDO + +Dost thou think +My father would be glad to see me coming, +This old man's blood still hot upon mine hands? + +MORANZONE + +Ay! he would laugh for joy. + +GUIDO + +I do not think so, +There is better knowledge in the other world; +Vengeance is God's, let God himself revenge. + +MORANZONE + +Thou art God's minister of vengeance. + +GUIDO + +No! +God hath no minister but his own hand. +I will not kill this man. + +MORANZONE + +Why are you here, +If not to kill him, then? + +GUIDO + +Lord Moranzone, +I purpose to ascend to the Duke's chamber, +And as he lies asleep lay on his breast +The dagger and this writing; when he awakes +Then he will know who held him in his power +And slew him not: this is the noblest vengeance +Which I can take. + +MORANZONE + +You will not slay him? + +GUIDO + +No. + +MORANZONE + +Ignoble son of a noble father, +Who sufferest this man who sold that father +To live an hour. + +GUIDO + +'Twas thou that hindered me; +I would have killed him in the open square, +The day I saw him first. + +MORANZONE + +It was not yet time; +Now it is time, and, like some green-faced girl, +Thou pratest of forgiveness. + +GUIDO + +No! revenge: +The right revenge my father's son should take. + +MORANZONE + +You are a coward, +Take out the knife, get to the Duke's chamber, +And bring me back his heart upon the blade. +When he is dead, then you can talk to me +Of noble vengeances. + +GUIDO + +Upon thine honour, +And by the love thou bearest my father's name, +Dost thou think my father, that great gentleman, +That generous soldier, that most chivalrous lord, +Would have crept at night-time, like a common thief, +And stabbed an old man sleeping in his bed, +However he had wronged him: tell me that. + +MORANZONE + +[after some hesitation] +You have sworn an oath, see that you keep that oath. +Boy, do you think I do not know your secret, +Your traffic with the Duchess? + +GUIDO + +Silence, liar! +The very moon in heaven is not more chaste. +Nor the white stars so pure. + +MORANZONE + +And yet, you love her; +Weak fool, to let love in upon your life, +Save as a plaything. + +GUIDO + +You do well to talk: +Within your veins, old man, the pulse of youth +Throbs with no ardour. Your eyes full of rheum +Have against Beauty closed their filmy doors, +And your clogged ears, losing their natural sense, +Have shut you from the music of the world. +You talk of love! You know not what it is. + +MORANZONE + +Oh, in my time, boy, have I walked i' the moon, +Swore I would live on kisses and on blisses, +Swore I would die for love, and did not die, +Wrote love bad verses; ay, and sung them badly, +Like all true lovers: Oh, I have done the tricks! +I know the partings and the chamberings; +We are all animals at best, and love +Is merely passion with a holy name. + +GUIDO + +Now then I know you have not loved at all. +Love is the sacrament of life; it sets +Virtue where virtue was not; cleanses men +Of all the vile pollutions of this world; +It is the fire which purges gold from dross, +It is the fan which winnows wheat from chaff, +It is the spring which in some wintry soil +Makes innocence to blossom like a rose. +The days are over when God walked with men, +But Love, which is his image, holds his place. +When a man loves a woman, then he knows +God's secret, and the secret of the world. +There is no house so lowly or so mean, +Which, if their hearts be pure who live in it, +Love will not enter; but if bloody murder +Knock at the Palace gate and is let in, +Love like a wounded thing creeps out and dies. +This is the punishment God sets on sin. +The wicked cannot love. +[A groan comes from the DUKE's chamber.] +Ah! What is that? +Do you not hear? 'Twas nothing. +So I think +That it is woman's mission by their love +To save the souls of men: and loving her, +My Lady, my white Beatrice, I begin +To see a nobler and a holier vengeance +In letting this man live, than doth reside +In bloody deeds o' night, stabs in the dark, +And young hands clutching at a palsied throat. +It was, I think, for love's sake that Lord Christ, +Who was indeed himself incarnate Love, +Bade every man forgive his enemy. + +MORANZONE + +[sneeringly] +That was in Palestine, not Padua; +And said for saints: I have to do with men. + +GUIDO + +It was for all time said. + +MORANZONE + +And your white Duchess, +What will she do to thank you? + +GUIDO + +Alas, I will not see her face again. +'Tis but twelve hours since I parted from her, +So suddenly, and with such violent passion, +That she has shut her heart against me now: +No, I will never see her. + +MORANZONE + +What will you do? + +GUIDO + +After that I have laid the dagger there, +Get hence to-night from Padua. + +MORANZONE + +And then? + +GUIDO + +I will take service with the Doge at Venice, +And bid him pack me straightway to the wars, +And there I will, being now sick of life, +Throw that poor life against some desperate spear. +[A groan from the DUKE'S chamber again.] +Did you not hear a voice? + +MORANZONE + +I always hear, +From the dim confines of some sepulchre, +A voice that cries for vengeance. We waste time, +It will be morning soon; are you resolved +You will not kill the Duke? + +GUIDO + +I am resolved. + +MORANZONE + +O wretched father, lying unavenged. + +GUIDO + +More wretched, were thy son a murderer. + +MORANZONE + +Why, what is life? + +GUIDO + +I do not know, my lord, +I did not give it, and I dare not take it. + +MORANZONE + +I do not thank God often; but I think +I thank him now that I have got no son! +And you, what bastard blood flows in your veins +That when you have your enemy in your grasp +You let him go! I would that I had left you +With the dull hinds that reared you. + +GUIDO + +Better perhaps +That you had done so! May be better still +I'd not been born to this distressful world. + +MORANZONE + +Farewell! + +GUIDO + +Farewell! Some day, Lord Moranzone, +You will understand my vengeance. + +MORANZONE + +Never, boy. +[Gets out of window and exit by rope ladder.] + +GUIDO + +Father, I think thou knowest my resolve, +And with this nobler vengeance art content. +Father, I think in letting this man live +That I am doing what thou wouldst have done. +Father, I know not if a human voice +Can pierce the iron gateway of the dead, +Or if the dead are set in ignorance +Of what we do, or do not, for their sakes. +And yet I feel a presence in the air, +There is a shadow standing at my side, +And ghostly kisses seem to touch my lips, +And leave them holier. [Kneels down.] +O father, if 'tis thou, +Canst thou not burst through the decrees of death, +And if corporeal semblance show thyself, +That I may touch thy hand! +No, there is nothing. [Rises.] +'Tis the night that cheats us with its phantoms, +And, like a puppet-master, makes us think +That things are real which are not. It grows late. +Now must I to my business. +[Pulls out a letter from his doublet and reads it.] +When he wakes, +And sees this letter, and the dagger with it, +Will he not have some loathing for his life, +Repent, perchance, and lead a better life, +Or will he mock because a young man spared +His natural enemy? I do not care. +Father, it is thy bidding that I do, +Thy bidding, and the bidding of my love +Which teaches me to know thee as thou art. +[Ascends staircase stealthily, and just as he reaches out his hand +to draw back the curtain the Duchess appears all in white. GUIDO +starts back.] + +DUCHESS + +Guido! what do you here so late? + +GUIDO + +O white and spotless angel of my life, +Sure thou hast come from Heaven with a message +That mercy is more noble than revenge? + +DUCHESS + +There is no barrier between us now. + +GUIDO + +None, love, nor shall be. + +DUCHESS + +I have seen to that. + +GUIDO + +Tarry here for me. + +DUCHESS + +No, you are not going? +You will not leave me as you did before? + +GUIDO + +I will return within a moment's space, +But first I must repair to the Duke's chamber, +And leave this letter and this dagger there, +That when he wakes - + +DUCHESS + +When who wakes? + +GUIDO + +Why, the Duke. + +DUCHESS + +He will not wake again. + +GUIDO + +What, is he dead? + +DUCHESS + +Ay! he is dead. + +GUIDO + +O God! how wonderful +Are all thy secret ways! Who would have said +That on this very night, when I had yielded +Into thy hands the vengeance that is thine, +Thou with thy finger wouldst have touched the man, +And bade him come before thy judgment seat. + +DUCHESS + +I have just killed him. + +GUIDO + +[in horror] Oh! + +DUCHESS + +He was asleep; +Come closer, love, and I will tell you all. +I had resolved to kill myself to-night. +About an hour ago I waked from sleep, +And took my dagger from beneath my pillow, +Where I had hidden it to serve my need, +And drew it from the sheath, and felt the edge, +And thought of you, and how I loved you, Guido, +And turned to fall upon it, when I marked +The old man sleeping, full of years and sin; +There lay he muttering curses in his sleep, +And as I looked upon his evil face +Suddenly like a flame there flashed across me, +There is the barrier which Guido spoke of: +You said there lay a barrier between us, +What barrier but he? - +I hardly know +What happened, but a steaming mist of blood +Rose up between us two. + +GUIDO + +Oh, horrible! + +DUCHESS + +And then he groaned, +And then he groaned no more! I only heard +The dripping of the blood upon the floor. + +GUIDO + +Enough, enough. + +DUCHESS + +Will you not kiss me now? +Do you remember saying that women's love +Turns men to angels? well, the love of man +Turns women into martyrs; for its sake +We do or suffer anything. + +GUIDO + +O God! + +DUCHESS + +Will you not speak? + +GUIDO + +I cannot speak at all. + +DUCHESS + +Let as not talk of this! Let us go hence: +Is not the barrier broken down between us? +What would you more? Come, it is almost morning. +[Puts her hand on GUIDO'S.] + +GUIDO + +[breaking from her] +O damned saint! O angel fresh from Hell! +What bloody devil tempted thee to this! +That thou hast killed thy husband, that is nothing - +Hell was already gaping for his soul - +But thou hast murdered Love, and in its place +Hast set a horrible and bloodstained thing, +Whose very breath breeds pestilence and plague, +And strangles Love. + +DUCHESS + +[in amazed wonder] +I did it all for you. +I would not have you do it, had you willed it, +For I would keep you without blot or stain, +A thing unblemished, unassailed, untarnished. +Men do not know what women do for love. +Have I not wrecked my soul for your dear sake, +Here and hereafter? + +GUIDO + +No, do not touch me, +Between us lies a thin red stream of blood; +I dare not look across it: when you stabbed him +You stabbed Love with a sharp knife to the heart. +We cannot meet again. + +DUCHESS + +[wringing her hands] +For you! For you! +I did it all for you: have you forgotten? +You said there was a barrier between us; +That barrier lies now i' the upper chamber +Upset, overthrown, beaten, and battered down, +And will not part us ever. + +GUIDO + +No, you mistook: +Sin was the barrier, you have raised it up; +Crime was the barrier, you have set it there. +The barrier was murder, and your hand +Has builded it so high it shuts out heaven, +It shuts out God. + +DUCHESS + +I did it all for you; +You dare not leave me now: nay, Guido, listen. +Get horses ready, we will fly to-night. +The past is a bad dream, we will forget it: +Before us lies the future: shall we not have +Sweet days of love beneath our vines and laugh? - +No, no, we will not laugh, but, when we weep, +Well, we will weep together; I will serve you; +I will be very meek and very gentle: +You do not know me. + +GUIDO + +Nay, I know you now; +Get hence, I say, out of my sight. + +DUCHESS + +[pacing up and down] +O God, +How I have loved this man! + +GUIDO + +You never loved me. +Had it been so, Love would have stayed your hand. +How could we sit together at Love's table? +You have poured poison in the sacred wine, +And Murder dips his fingers in the sop. + +DUCHESS + +[throws herself on her knees] +Then slay me now! I have spilt blood to-night, +You shall spill more, so we go hand in hand +To heaven or to hell. Draw your sword, Guido. +Quick, let your soul go chambering in my heart, +It will but find its master's image there. +Nay, if you will not slay me with your sword, +Bid me to fall upon this reeking knife, +And I will do it. + +GUIDO + +[wresting knife from her] +Give it to me, I say. +O God, your very hands are wet with blood! +This place is Hell, I cannot tarry here. +I pray you let me see your face no more. + +DUCHESS + +Better for me I had not seen your face. +[GUIDO recoils: she seizes his hands as she kneels.] +Nay, Guido, listen for a while: +Until you came to Padua I lived +Wretched indeed, but with no murderous thought, +Very submissive to a cruel Lord, +Very obedient to unjust commands, + +As pure I think as any gentle girl +Who now would turn in horror from my hands - +[Stands up.] +You came: ah! Guido, the first kindly words +I ever heard since I had come from France +Were from your lips: well, well, that is no matter. +You came, and in the passion of your eyes +I read love's meaning; everything you said +Touched my dumb soul to music, so I loved you. +And yet I did not tell you of my love. +'Twas you who sought me out, knelt at my feet +As I kneel now at yours, and with sweet vows, +[Kneels.] +Whose music seems to linger in my ears, +Swore that you loved me, and I trusted you. +I think there are many women in the world +Who would have tempted you to kill the man. +I did not. +Yet I know that had I done so, +I had not been thus humbled in the dust, +[Stands up.] +But you had loved me very faithfully. +[After a pause approaches him timidly.] +I do not think you understand me, Guido: +It was for your sake that I wrought this deed +Whose horror now chills my young blood to ice, +For your sake only. [Stretching out her arm.] +Will you not speak to me? +Love me a little: in my girlish life +I have been starved for love, and kindliness +Has passed me by. + +GUIDO + +I dare not look at you: +You come to me with too pronounced a favour; +Get to your tirewomen. + +DUCHESS + +Ay, there it is! +There speaks the man! yet had you come to me +With any heavy sin upon your soul, +Some murder done for hire, not for love, +Why, I had sat and watched at your bedside +All through the night-time, lest Remorse might come +And pour his poisons in your ear, and so +Keep you from sleeping! Sure it is the guilty, +Who, being very wretched, need love most. + +GUIDO + +There is no love where there is any guilt. + +DUCHESS + +No love where there is any guilt! O God, +How differently do we love from men! +There is many a woman here in Padua, +Some workman's wife, or ruder artisan's, +Whose husband spends the wages of the week +In a coarse revel, or a tavern brawl, +And reeling home late on the Saturday night, +Finds his wife sitting by a fireless hearth, +Trying to hush the child who cries for hunger, +And then sets to and beats his wife because +The child is hungry, and the fire black. +Yet the wife loves him! and will rise next day +With some red bruise across a careworn face, +And sweep the house, and do the common service, +And try and smile, and only be too glad +If he does not beat her a second time +Before her child!--that is how women love. +[A pause: GUIDO says nothing.] +I think you will not drive me from your side. +Where have I got to go if you reject me? - +You for whose sake this hand has murdered life, +You for whose sake my soul has wrecked itself +Beyond all hope of pardon. + +GUIDO + +Get thee gone: +The dead man is a ghost, and our love too, +Flits like a ghost about its desolate tomb, +And wanders through this charnel house, and weeps +That when you slew your lord you slew it also. +Do you not see? + +DUCHESS + +I see when men love women +They give them but a little of their lives, +But women when they love give everything; +I see that, Guido, now. + +GUIDO + +Away, away, +And come not back till you have waked your dead. + +DUCHESS + +I would to God that I could wake the dead, +Put vision in the glazed eves, and give +The tongue its natural utterance, and bid +The heart to beat again: that cannot be: +For what is done, is done: and what is dead +Is dead for ever: the fire cannot warm him: +The winter cannot hurt him with its snows; +Something has gone from him; if you call him now, +He will not answer; if you mock him now, +He will not laugh; and if you stab him now +He will not bleed. +I would that I could wake him! +O God, put back the sun a little space, +And from the roll of time blot out to-night, +And bid it not have been! Put back the sun, +And make me what I was an hour ago! +No, no, time will not stop for anything, +Nor the sun stay its courses, though Repentance +Calling it back grow hoarse; but you, my love, +Have you no word of pity even for me? +O Guido, Guido, will you not kiss me once? +Drive me not to some desperate resolve: +Women grow mad when they are treated thus: +Will you not kiss me once? + +GUIDO + +[holding up knife] +I will not kiss you +Until the blood grows dry upon this knife, +[Wildly] Back to your dead! + +DUCHESS + +[going up the stairs] +Why, then I will be gone! and may you find +More mercy than you showed to me to-night! + +GUIDO + +Let me find mercy when I go at night +And do foul murder. + +DUCHESS + +[coming down a few steps.] +Murder did you say? +Murder is hungry, and still cries for more, +And Death, his brother, is not satisfied, +But walks the house, and will not go away, +Unless he has a comrade! Tarry, Death, +For I will give thee a most faithful lackey +To travel with thee! Murder, call no more, +For thou shalt eat thy fill. +There is a storm +Will break upon this house before the morning, +So horrible, that the white moon already +Turns grey and sick with terror, the low wind +Goes moaning round the house, and the high stars +Run madly through the vaulted firmament, +As though the night wept tears of liquid fire +For what the day shall look upon. Oh, weep, +Thou lamentable heaven! Weep thy fill! +Though sorrow like a cataract drench the fields, +And make the earth one bitter lake of tears, +It would not be enough. [A peal of thunder.] +Do you not hear, +There is artillery in the Heaven to-night. +Vengeance is wakened up, and has unloosed +His dogs upon the world, and in this matter +Which lies between us two, let him who draws +The thunder on his head beware the ruin +Which the forked flame brings after. +[A flash of lightning followed by a peal of thunder.] + +GUIDO + +Away! away! +[Exit the DUCHESS, who as she lifts the crimson curtain looks back +for a moment at GUIDO, but he makes no sign. More thunder.] +Now is life fallen in ashes at my feet +And noble love self-slain; and in its place +Crept murder with its silent bloody feet. +And she who wrought it--Oh! and yet she loved me, +And for my sake did do this dreadful thing. +I have been cruel to her: Beatrice! +Beatrice, I say, come back. +[Begins to ascend staircase, when the noise of Soldiers is heard.] +Ah! what is that? +Torches ablaze, and noise of hurrying feet. +Pray God they have not seized her. +[Noise grows louder.] +Beatrice! +There is yet time to escape. Come down, come out! +[The voice of the DUCHESS outside.] +This way went he, the man who slew my lord. +[Down the staircase comes hurrying a confused body of Soldiers; +GUIDO is not seen at first, till the DUCHESS surrounded by Servants +carrying torches appears at the top of the staircase, and points to +GUIDO, who is seized at once, one of the Soldiers dragging the +knife from his hand and showing it to the Captain of the Guard in +sight of the audience. Tableau.] + +END OF ACT III. + + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE + +The Court of Justice: the walls are hung with stamped grey velvet: +above the hangings the wall is red, and gilt symbolical figures +bear up the roof, which is made of red beams with grey soffits and +moulding: a canopy of white satin flowered with gold is set for +the Duchess: below it a long bench with red cloth for the Judges: +below that a table for the clerks of the court. Two soldiers stand +on each side of the canopy, and two soldiers guard the door; the +citizens have some of them collected in the Court; others are +coming in greeting one another; two tipstaffs in violet keep order +with long white wands. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Good morrow, neighbour Anthony. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Good morrow, neighbour Dominick. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +This is a strange day for Padua, is it not?--the Duke being dead. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +I tell you, neighbour Dominick, I have not known such a day since +the last Duke died. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +They will try him first, and sentence him afterwards, will they +not, neighbour Anthony? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Nay, for he might 'scape his punishment then; but they will condemn +him first so that he gets his deserts, and give him trial +afterwards so that no injustice is done. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Well, well, it will go hard with him I doubt not. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Surely it is a grievous thing to shed a Duke's blood. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +They say a Duke has blue blood. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +I think our Duke's blood was black like his soul. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Have a watch, neighbour Anthony, the officer is looking at thee. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +I care not if he does but look at me; he cannot whip me with the +lashes of his eye. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +What think you of this young man who stuck the knife into the Duke? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Why, that he is a well-behaved, and a well-meaning, and a well- +favoured lad, and yet wicked in that he killed the Duke. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +'Twas the first time he did it: may be the law will not be hard on +him, as he did not do it before. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +True. + +TIPSTAFF + +Silence, knave. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Am I thy looking-glass, Master Tipstaff, that thou callest me +knave? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Here be one of the household coming. Well, Dame Lucy, thou art of +the Court, how does thy poor mistress the Duchess, with her sweet +face? + +MISTRESS LUCY + +O well-a-day! O miserable day! O day! O misery! Why it is just +nineteen years last June, at Michaelmas, since I was married to my +husband, and it is August now, and here is the Duke murdered; there +is a coincidence for you! + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Why, if it is a coincidence, they may not kill the young man: +there is no law against coincidences. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +But how does the Duchess? + +MISTRESS LUCY + +Well well, I knew some harm would happen to the house: six weeks +ago the cakes were all burned on one side, and last Saint Martin +even as ever was, there flew into the candle a big moth that had +wings, and a'most scared me. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +But come to the Duchess, good gossip: what of her? + +MISTRESS LUCY + +Marry, it is time you should ask after her, poor lady; she is +distraught almost. Why, she has not slept, but paced the chamber +all night long. I prayed her to have a posset, or some aqua-vitae, +and to get to bed and sleep a little for her health's sake, but she +answered me she was afraid she might dream. That was a strange +answer, was it not? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +These great folk have not much sense, so Providence makes it up to +them in fine clothes. + +MISTRESS LUCY + +Well, well, God keep murder from us, I say, as long as we are +alive. + +[Enter LORD MORANZONE hurriedly.] + +MORANZONE + +Is the Duke dead? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +He has a knife in his heart, which they say is not healthy for any +man. + +MORANZONE + +Who is accused of having killed him? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Why, the prisoner, sir. + +MORANZONE + +But who is the prisoner? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Why, he that is accused of the Duke's murder. + +MORANZONE + +I mean, what is his name? + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Faith, the same which his godfathers gave him: what else should it +be? + +TIPSTAFF + +Guido Ferranti is his name, my lord. + +MORANZONE + +I almost knew thine answer ere you gave it. +[Aside.] +Yet it is strange he should have killed the Duke, +Seeing he left me in such different mood. +It is most likely when he saw the man, +This devil who had sold his father's life, +That passion from their seat within his heart +Thrust all his boyish theories of love, +And in their place set vengeance; yet I marvel +That he escaped not. +[Turning again to the crowd.] +How was he taken? Tell me. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Marry, sir, he was taken by the heels. + +MORANZONE + +But who seized him? + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Why, those that did lay hold of him. + +MORANZONE + +How was the alarm given? + +THIRD CITIZEN + +That I cannot tell you, sir. + +MISTRESS LUCY + +It was the Duchess herself who pointed him out. + +MORANZONE + +[aside] +The Duchess! There is something strange in this. + +MISTRESS LUCY + +Ay! And the dagger was in his hand--the Duchess's own dagger. + +MORANZONE + +What did you say? + +MISTRESS LUCY + +Why, marry, that it was with the Duchess's dagger that the Duke was +killed. + +MORANZONE + +[aside] +There is some mystery about this: I cannot understand it. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +They be very long a-coming, + +FIRST CITIZEN + +I warrant they will come soon enough for the prisoner. + +TIPSTAFF + +Silence in the Court! + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Thou dost break silence in bidding us keep it, Master Tipstaff. +[Enter the LORD JUSTICE and the other Judges.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Who is he in scarlet? Is he the headsman? + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Nay, he is the Lord Justice. +[Enter GUIDO guarded.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + +There be the prisoner surely. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +He looks honest. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +That be his villany: knaves nowadays do look so honest that honest +folk are forced to look like knaves so as to be different. +[Enter the Headman, who takes his stand behind GUIDO.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Yon be the headsman then! O Lord! Is the axe sharp, think you? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Ay! sharper than thy wits are; but the edge is not towards him, +mark you. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +[scratching his neck] +I' faith, I like it not so near. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Tut, thou need'st not be afraid; they never cut the heads of common +folk: they do but hang us. +[Trumpets outside.] + +THIRD CITIZEN + +What are the trumpets for? Is the trial over? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Nay, 'tis for the Duchess. +[Enter the DUCHESS in black velvet; her train of flowered black +velvet is carried by two pages in violet; with her is the CARDINAL +in scarlet, and the gentlemen of the Court in black; she takes her +seat on the throne above the Judges, who rise and take their caps +off as she enters; the CARDINAL sits next to her a little lower; +the Courtiers group themselves about the throne.] + +SECOND CITIZEN + +O poor lady, how pale she is! Will she sit there? + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Ay! she is in the Duke's place now. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +That is a good thing for Padua; the Duchess is a very kind and +merciful Duchess; why, she cured my child of the ague once. + +THIRD CITIZEN + +Ay, and has given us bread: do not forget the bread. + +A SOLDIER + +Stand back, good people. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +If we be good, why should we stand back? + +TIPSTAFF + +Silence in the Court! + +LORD JUSTICE + +May it please your Grace, +Is it your pleasure we proceed to trial +Of the Duke's murder? [DUCHESS bows.] +Set the prisoner forth. +What is thy name? + +GUIDO + +It matters not, my lord. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Guido Ferranti is thy name in Padua. + +GUIDO + +A man may die as well under that name as any other. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Thou art not ignorant +What dreadful charge men lay against thee here, +Namely, the treacherous murder of thy Lord, +Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua; +What dost thou say in answer? + +GUIDO + +I say nothing. + +LORD JUSTICE + +[rising] +Guido Ferranti - + +MORANZONE + +[stepping from the crowd] +Tarry, my Lord Justice. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Who art thou that bid'st justice tarry, sir? + +MORANZONE + +So be it justice it can go its way; +But if it be not justice - + +LORD JUSTICE + +Who is this? + +COUNT BARDI + +A very noble gentleman, and well known +To the late Duke. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Sir, thou art come in time +To see the murder of the Duke avenged. +There stands the man who did this heinous thing. + +MORANZONE + +My lord, +I ask again what proof have ye? + +LORD JUSTICE + +[holding up the dagger] +This dagger, +Which from his blood-stained hands, itself all blood, +Last night the soldiers seized: what further proof +Need we indeed? + +MORANZONE + +[takes the danger and approaches the DUCHESS] +Saw I not such a dagger +Hang from your Grace's girdle yesterday? +[The DUCHESS shudders and makes no answer.] +Ah! my Lord Justice, may I speak a moment +With this young man, who in such peril stands? + +LORD JUSTICE + +Ay, willingly, my lord, and may you turn him +To make a full avowal of his guilt. +[LORD MORANZONE goes over to GUIDO, who stands R. and clutches him +by the hand.] + +MORANZONE + +[in a low voice] +She did it! Nay, I saw it in her eyes. +Boy, dost thou think I'll let thy father's son +Be by this woman butchered to his death? +Her husband sold your father, and the wife +Would sell the son in turn. + +GUIDO + +Lord Moranzone, +I alone did this thing: be satisfied, +My father is avenged. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Doth he confess? + +GUIDO + +My lord, I do confess +That foul unnatural murder has been done. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +Why, look at that: he has a pitiful heart, and does not like +murder; they will let him go for that. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Say you no more? + +GUIDO + +My lord, I say this also, +That to spill human blood is deadly sin. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +Marry, he should tell that to the headsman: 'tis a good sentiment. + +GUIDO + +Lastly, my lord, I do entreat the Court +To give me leave to utter openly +The dreadful secret of this mystery, +And to point out the very guilty one +Who with this dagger last night slew the Duke. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Thou hast leave to speak. + +DUCHESS + +[rising] +I say he shall not speak: +What need have we of further evidence? +Was he not taken in the house at night +In Guilt's own bloody livery? + +LORD JUSTICE + +[showing her the statute] +Your Grace +Can read the law. + +DUCHESS + +[waiving book aside] +Bethink you, my Lord Justice, +Is it not very like that such a one +May, in the presence of the people here, +Utter some slanderous word against my Lord, +Against the city, or the city's honour, +Perchance against myself. + +LORD JUSTICE + +My liege, the law. + +DUCHESS + +He shall not speak, but, with gags in his mouth, +Shall climb the ladder to the bloody block. + +LORD JUSTICE + +The law, my liege. + +DUCHESS + +We are not bound by law, +But with it we bind others. + +MORANZONE + +My Lord Justice, +Thou wilt not suffer this injustice here. + +LORD JUSTICE + +The Court needs not thy voice, Lord Moranzone. +Madam, it were a precedent most evil +To wrest the law from its appointed course, +For, though the cause be just, yet anarchy +Might on this licence touch these golden scales +And unjust causes unjust victories gain. + +COUNT BARDI + +I do not think your Grace can stay the law. + +DUCHESS + +Ay, it is well to preach and prate of law: +Methinks, my haughty lords of Padua, +If ye are hurt in pocket or estate, +So much as makes your monstrous revenues +Less by the value of one ferry toll, +Ye do not wait the tedious law's delay +With such sweet patience as ye counsel me. + +COUNT BARDI + +Madam, I think you wrong our nobles here. + +DUCHESS + +I think I wrong them not. Which of you all +Finding a thief within his house at night, +With some poor chattel thrust into his rags, +Will stop and parley with him? do ye not +Give him unto the officer and his hook +To be dragged gaolwards straightway? +And so now, +Had ye been men, finding this fellow here, +With my Lord's life still hot upon his hands, +Ye would have haled him out into the court, +And struck his head off with an axe. + +GUIDO + +O God! + +DUCHESS + +Speak, my Lord Justice. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Your Grace, it cannot be: +The laws of Padua are most certain here: +And by those laws the common murderer even +May with his own lips plead, and make defence. + +DUCHESS + +This is no common murderer, Lord Justice, +But a great outlaw, and a most vile traitor, +Taken in open arms against the state. +For he who slays the man who rules a state +Slays the state also, widows every wife, +And makes each child an orphan, and no less +Is to be held a public enemy, +Than if he came with mighty ordonnance, +And all the spears of Venice at his back, +To beat and batter at our city gates - +Nay, is more dangerous to our commonwealth, +For walls and gates, bastions and forts, and things +Whose common elements are wood and stone +May be raised up, but who can raise again +The ruined body of my murdered lord, +And bid it live and laugh? + +MAFFIO + +Now by Saint Paul +I do not think that they will let him speak. + +JEPPO VITELLOZZO + +There is much in this, listen. + +DUCHESS + +Wherefore now, +Throw ashes on the head of Padua, +With sable banners hang each silent street, +Let every man be clad in solemn black; +But ere we turn to these sad rites of mourning +Let us bethink us of the desperate hand +Which wrought and brought this ruin on our state, +And straightway pack him to that narrow house, +Where no voice is, but with a little dust +Death fills right up the lying mouths of men. + +GUIDO + +Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord Justice, +Thou mightst as well bid the untrammelled ocean, +The winter whirlwind, or the Alpine storm, +Not roar their will, as bid me hold my peace! +Ay! though ye put your knives into my throat, +Each grim and gaping wound shall find a tongue, +And cry against you. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Sir, this violence +Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal +Give thee a lawful right to open speech, +Naught that thou sayest can be credited. +[The DUCHESS smiles and GUIDO falls back with a gesture of +despair.] +Madam, myself, and these wise Justices, +Will with your Grace's sanction now retire +Into another chamber, to decide +Upon this difficult matter of the law, +And search the statutes and the precedents. + +DUCHESS + +Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes well, +Nor let this brawling traitor have his way. + +MORANZONE + +Go, my Lord Justice, search thy conscience well, +Nor let a man be sent to death unheard. +[Exit the LORD JUSTICE and the Judges.] + +DUCHESS + +Silence, thou evil genius of my life! +Thou com'st between us two a second time; +This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine. + +GUIDO + +I shall not die till I have uttered voice. + +DUCHESS + +Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with thee. + +GUIDO + +Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua? + +DUCHESS + +I am what thou hast made me; look at me well, +I am thy handiwork. + +MAFFIO + +See, is she not +Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice, +Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge? + +JEPPO + +Hush! she may hear thy chatter. + +HEADSMAN + +My young fellow, +I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak, +Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck, +And words of thine will never blunt its edge. +But if thou art so bent upon it, why +Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder: +The common people call him kindly here, +Indeed I know he has a kindly soul. + +GUIDO + +This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies +More than the others. + +HEADSMAN + +Why, God love you, sir, +I'll do you your last service on this earth. + +GUIDO + +My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land, +With Lord Christ's face of mercy looking down +From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man +Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so, +May I not tell this dreadful tale of sin, +If any sin there be upon my soul? + +DUCHESS + +Thou dost but waste thy time. + +CARDINAL + +Alack, my son, +I have no power with the secular arm. +My task begins when justice has been done, +To urge the wavering sinner to repent +And to confess to Holy Church's ear +The dreadful secrets of a sinful mind. + +DUCHESS + +Thou mayest speak to the confessional +Until thy lips grow weary of their tale, +But here thou shalt not speak. + +GUIDO + +My reverend father, +You bring me but cold comfort. + +CARDINAL + +Nay, my son, +For the great power of our mother Church, +Ends not with this poor bubble of a world, +Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith, +For if the sinner doth repentant die, +Our prayers and holy masses much avail +To bring the guilty soul from purgatory. + +DUCHESS + +And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord +With that red star of blood upon his heart, +Tell him I sent thee hither. + +GUIDO + +O dear God! + +MORANZONE + +This is the woman, is it, whom you loved? + +CARDINAL + +Your Grace is very cruel to this man. + +DUCHESS + +No more than he was cruel to her Grace. + +CARDINAL + +Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes. + +DUCHESS + +I got no mercy, and I give it not. +He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone, +He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field, +He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast, +He hath withered up all kindness at the root; +My life is as some famine murdered land, +Whence all good things have perished utterly: +I am what he hath made me. +[The DUCHESS weeps.] + +JEPPO + +Is it not strange +That she should so have loved the wicked Duke? + +MAFFIO + +It is most strange when women love their lords, +And when they love them not it is most strange. + +JEPPO + +What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci! + +MAFFIO + +Ay! I can bear the ills of other men, +Which is philosophy. + +DUCHESS + +They tarry long, +These greybeards and their council; bid them come; +Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart +Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed, +That I here care to live; God knows my life +Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that, +I would not die companionless, or go +Lonely to Hell. +Look, my Lord Cardinal, +Canst thou not see across my forehead here, +In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge? +Fetch me some water, I will wash it off: +'Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time +I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal? +Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain: +Give me a knife; not that one, but another, +And I will cut it out. + +CARDINAL + +It is most natural +To be incensed against the murderous hand +That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord. + +DUCHESS + +I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand; +But it will burn hereafter. + +CARDINAL + +Nay, the Church +Ordains us to forgive our enemies. + +DUCHESS + +Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it. +They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well. +[Enter the LORD JUSTICE.] + +LORD JUSTICE + +Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege, +We have long pondered on the point at issue, +And much considered of your Grace's wisdom, +And never wisdom spake from fairer lips - + +DUCHESS + +Proceed, sir, without compliment. + +LORD JUSTICE + +We find, +As your own Grace did rightly signify, +That any citizen, who by force or craft +Conspires against the person of the Liege, +Is ipso facto outlaw, void of rights +Such as pertain to other citizens, +Is traitor, and a public enemy, +Who may by any casual sword be slain +Without the slayer's danger; nay, if brought +Into the presence of the tribunal, +Must with dumb lips and silence reverent +Listen unto his well-deserved doom, +Nor has the privilege of open speech. + +DUCHESS + +I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily; +I like your law: and now I pray dispatch +This public outlaw to his righteous doom; +What is there more? + +LORD JUSTICE + +Ay, there is more, your Grace. +This man being alien born, not Paduan, +Nor by allegiance bound unto the Duke, +Save such as common nature doth lay down, +Hath, though accused of treasons manifold, +Whose slightest penalty is certain death, +Yet still the right of public utterance +Before the people and the open court; +Nay, shall be much entreated by the Court, +To make some formal pleading for his life, +Lest his own city, righteously incensed, +Should with an unjust trial tax our state, +And wars spring up against the commonwealth: +So merciful are the laws of Padua +Unto the stranger living in her gates. + +DUCHESS + +Being of my Lord's household, is he stranger here? + +LORD JUSTICE + +Ay, until seven years of service spent +He cannot be a Paduan citizen. + +GUIDO + +I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily; +I like your law. + +SECOND CITIZEN + +I like no law at all: +Were there no law there'd be no law-breakers, +So all men would be virtuous. + +FIRST CITIZEN + +So they would; +'Tis a wise saying that, and brings you far. + +TIPSTAFF + +Ay! to the gallows, knave. + +DUCHESS + +Is this the law? + +LORD JUSTICE + +It is the law most certainly, my liege. + +DUCHESS + +Show me the book: 'tis written in blood-red. + +JEPPO + +Look at the Duchess. + +DUCHESS + +Thou accursed law, +I would that I could tear thee from the state +As easy as I tear thee from this book. +[Tears out the page.] +Come here, Count Bardi: are you honourable? +Get a horse ready for me at my house, +For I must ride to Venice instantly. + +BARDI + +To Venice, Madam? + +DUCHESS + +Not a word of this, +Go, go at once. [Exit COUNT BARDI.] +A moment, my Lord Justice. +If, as thou sayest it, this is the law - +Nay, nay, I doubt not that thou sayest right, +Though right be wrong in such a case as this - +May I not by the virtue of mine office +Adjourn this court until another day? + +LORD JUSTICE + +Madam, you cannot stay a trial for blood. + +DUCHESS + +I will not tarry then to hear this man +Rail with rude tongue against our sacred person. +Come, gentlemen. + +LORD JUSTICE + +My liege, +You cannot leave this court until the prisoner +Be purged or guilty of this dread offence. + +DUCHESS + +Cannot, Lord Justice? By what right do you +Set barriers in my path where I should go? +Am I not Duchess here in Padua, +And the state's regent? + +LORD JUSTICE + +For that reason, Madam, +Being the fountain-head of life and death +Whence, like a mighty river, justice flows, +Without thy presence justice is dried up +And fails of purpose: thou must tarry here. + +DUCHESS + +What, wilt thou keep me here against my will? + +LORD JUSTICE + +We pray thy will be not against the law. + +DUCHESS + +What if I force my way out of the court? + +LORD JUSTICE + +Thou canst not force the Court to give thee way. + +DUCHESS + +I will not tarry. [Rises from her seat.] + +LORD JUSTICE + +Is the usher here? +Let him stand forth. [Usher comes forward.] +Thou knowest thy business, sir. +[The Usher closes the doors of the court, which are L., and when +the DUCHESS and her retinue approach, kneels down.] + +USHER + +In all humility I beseech your Grace +Turn not my duty to discourtesy, +Nor make my unwelcome office an offence. + +DUCHESS + +Is there no gentleman amongst you all +To prick this prating fellow from our way? + +MAFFIO + +[drawing his sword] +Ay! that will I. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Count Maffio, have a care, +And you, sir. [To JEPPO.] +The first man who draws his sword +Upon the meanest officer of this Court, +Dies before nightfall. + +DUCHESS + +Sirs, put up your swords: +It is most meet that I should hear this man. +[Goes back to throne.] + +MORANZONE + +Now hast thou got thy enemy in thy hand. + +LORD JUSTICE + +[taking the time-glass up] +Guido Ferranti, while the crumbling sand +Falls through this time-glass, thou hast leave to speak. +This and no more. + +GUIDO + +It is enough, my lord. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Thou standest on the extreme verge of death; +See that thou speakest nothing but the truth, +Naught else will serve thee. + +GUIDO + +If I speak it not, +Then give my body to the headsman there. + +LORD JUSTICE + +[turns the time-glass] +Let there be silence while the prisoner speaks. + +TIPSTAFF + +Silence in the Court there. + +GUIDO + +My Lords Justices, +And reverent judges of this worthy court, +I hardly know where to begin my tale, +So strangely dreadful is this history. +First, let me tell you of what birth I am. +I am the son of that good Duke Lorenzo +Who was with damned treachery done to death +By a most wicked villain, lately Duke +Of this good town of Padua. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Have a care, +It will avail thee nought to mock this prince +Who now lies in his coffin. + +MAFFIO + +By Saint James, +This is the Duke of Parma's rightful heir. + +JEPPO + +I always thought him noble. + +GUIDO + +I confess +That with the purport of a just revenge, +A most just vengeance on a man of blood, +I entered the Duke's household, served his will, +Sat at his board, drank of his wine, and was +His intimate: so much I will confess, +And this too, that I waited till he grew +To give the fondest secrets of his life +Into my keeping, till he fawned on me, +And trusted me in every private matter +Even as my noble father trusted him; +That for this thing I waited. +[To the Headsman.] Thou man of blood! +Turn not thine axe on me before the time: +Who knows if it be time for me to die? +Is there no other neck in court but mine? + +LORD JUSTICE + +The sand within the time-glass flows apace. +Come quickly to the murder of the Duke. + +GUIDO + +I will be brief: Last night at twelve o' the clock, +By a strong rope I scaled the palace wall, +With purport to revenge my father's murder - +Ay! with that purport I confess, my lord. +This much I will acknowledge, and this also, +That as with stealthy feet I climbed the stair +Which led unto the chamber of the Duke, +And reached my hand out for the scarlet cloth +Which shook and shivered in the gusty door, +Lo! the white moon that sailed in the great heaven +Flooded with silver light the darkened room, +Night lit her candles for me, and I saw +The man I hated, cursing in his sleep; +And thinking of a most dear father murdered, +Sold to the scaffold, bartered to the block, +I smote the treacherous villain to the heart +With this same dagger, which by chance I found +Within the chamber. + +DUCHESS + +[rising from her seat] +Oh! + +GUIDO + +[hurriedly] +I killed the Duke. +Now, my Lord Justice, if I may crave a boon, +Suffer me not to see another sun +Light up the misery of this loathsome world. + +LORD JUSTICE + +Thy boon is granted, thou shalt die to-night. +Lead him away. Come, Madam +[GUIDO is led off; as he goes the DUCHESS stretches out her arms +and rushes down the stage.] + +DUCHESS + +Guido! Guido! +[Faints.] + +Tableau + +END OF ACT IV. + + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE + +A dungeon in the public prison of Padua; Guido lies asleep on a +pallet (L.C.); a table with a goblet on it is set (L.C.); five +soldiers are drinking and playing dice in the corner on a stone +table; one of them has a lantern hung to his halbert; a torch is +set in the wall over Guido's head. Two grated windows behind, one +on each side of the door which is (C.), look out into the passage; +the stage is rather dark. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +[throws dice] +Sixes again! good Pietro. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +I' faith, lieutenant, I will play with thee no more. I will lose +everything. + +THIRD SOLDIER + +Except thy wits; thou art safe there! + +SECOND SOLDIER + +Ay, ay, he cannot take them from me. + +THIRD SOLDIER + +No; for thou hast no wits to give him. + +THE SOLDIERS + +[loudly] +Ha! ha! ha! + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Silence! You will wake the prisoner; he is asleep. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +What matter? He will get sleep enough when he is buried. I +warrant he'd be glad if we could wake him when he's in the grave. + +THIRD SOLDIER + +Nay! for when he wakes there it will be judgment day. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +Ay, and he has done a grievous thing; for, look you, to murder one +of us who are but flesh and blood is a sin, and to kill a Duke goes +being near against the law. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Well, well, he was a wicked Duke. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +And so he should not have touched him; if one meddles with wicked +people, one is like to be tainted with their wickedness. + +THIRD SOLDIER + +Ay, that is true. How old is the prisoner? + +SECOND SOLDIER + +Old enough to do wrong, and not old enough to be wise. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Why, then, he might be any age. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +They say the Duchess wanted to pardon him. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Is that so? + +SECOND SOLDIER + +Ay, and did much entreat the Lord Justice, but he would not. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +I had thought, Pietro, that the Duchess was omnipotent. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +True, she is well-favoured; I know none so comely. + +THE SOLDIERS + +Ha! ha! ha! + +FIRST SOLDIER + +I meant I had thought our Duchess could do anything. + +SECOND SOLDIER + +Nay, for he is now given over to the Justices, and they will see +that justice be done; they and stout Hugh the headsman; but when +his head is off, why then the Duchess can pardon him if she likes; +there is no law against that. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +I do not think that stout Hugh, as you call him, will do the +business for him after all. This Guido is of gentle birth, and so +by the law can drink poison first, if it so be his pleasure. + +THIRD SOLDIER + +And if he does not drink it? + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Why, then, they will kill him. +[Knocking comes at the door.] + +FIRST SOLDIER + +See who that is. +[Third Soldier goes over and looks through the wicket.] + +THIRD SOLDIER + +It is a woman, sir. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Is she pretty? + +THIRD SOLDIER + +I can't tell. She is masked, lieutenant. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +It is only very ugly or very beautiful women who ever hide their +faces. Let her in. +[Soldier opens the door, and the DUCHESS masked and cloaked +enters.] + +DUCHESS + +[to Third Soldier] +Are you the officer on guard? + +FIRST SOLDIER + +[coming forward] +I am, madam. + +DUCHESS + +I must see the prisoner alone. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +I am afraid that is impossible. [The DUCHESS hands him a ring, he +looks at and returns it to her with a bow and makes a sign to the +Soldiers.] Stand without there. [Exeunt the Soldiers.] + +DUCHESS + +Officer, your men are somewhat rough. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +They mean no harm. + +DUCHESS + +I shall be going back in a few minutes. As I pass through the +corridor do not let them try and lift my mask. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +You need not be afraid, madam. + +DUCHESS + +I have a particular reason for wishing my face not to be seen. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Madam, with this ring you can go in and out as you please; it is +the Duchess's own ring. + +DUCHESS + +Leave us. [The Soldier turns to go out.] A moment, sir. For what +hour is . . . + +FIRST SOLDIER + +At twelve o'clock, madam, we have orders to lead him out; but I +dare say he won't wait for us; he's more like to take a drink out +of that poison yonder. Men are afraid of the headsman. + +DUCHESS + +Is that poison? + +FIRST SOLDIER + +Ay, madam, and very sure poison too. + +DUCHESS + +You may go, sir. + +FIRST SOLDIER + +By Saint James, a pretty hand! I wonder who she is. Some woman +who loved him, perhaps. [Exit.] + +DUCHESS + +[taking her mark off] At last! +He can escape now in this cloak and vizard, +We are of a height almost: they will not know him; +As for myself what matter? +So that he does not curse me as he goes, +I care but little: I wonder will he curse me. +He has the right. It is eleven now; +They will not come till twelve. +[Goes over to the table.] +So this is poison. +Is it not strange that in this liquor here +There lies the key to all philosophies? +[Takes the cup up.] +It smells of poppies. I remember well +That, when I was a child in Sicily, +I took the scarlet poppies from the corn, +And made a little wreath, and my grave uncle, +Don John of Naples, laughed: I did not know +That they had power to stay the springs of life, +To make the pulse cease beating, and to chill +The blood in its own vessels, till men come +And with a hook hale the poor body out, +And throw it in a ditch: the body, ay, - +What of the soul? that goes to heaven or hell. +Where will mine go? +[Takes the torch from the wall, and goes over to the bed.] +How peacefully here he sleeps, +Like a young schoolboy tired out with play: +I would that I could sleep so peacefully, +But I have dreams. [Bending over him.] +Poor boy: what if I kissed him? +No, no, my lips would burn him like a fire. +He has had enough of Love. Still that white neck +Will 'scape the headsman: I have seen to that: +He will get hence from Padua to-night, +And that is well. You are very wise, Lord Justices, +And yet you are not half so wise as I am, +And that is well. +O God! how I have loved you, +And what a bloody flower did Love bear! +[Comes back to the table.] +What if I drank these juices, and so ceased? +Were it not better than to wait till Death +Come to my bed with all his serving men, +Remorse, disease, old age, and misery? +I wonder does one suffer much: I think +That I am very young to die like this, +But so it must be. Why, why should I die? +He will escape to-night, and so his blood +Will not be on my head. No, I must die; +I have been guilty, therefore I must die; +He loves me not, and therefore I must die: +I would die happier if he would kiss me, +But he will not do that. I did not know him. +I thought he meant to sell me to the Judge; +That is not strange; we women never know +Our lovers till they leave us. +[Bell begins to toll] +Thou vile bell, +That like a bloodhound from thy brazen throat +Call'st for this man's life, cease! thou shalt not get it. +He stirs--I must be quick: [Takes up cup.] +O Love, Love, Love, +I did not think that I would pledge thee thus! +[Drinks poison, and sets the cup down on the table behind her: the +noise wakens GUIDO, who starts up, and does not see what she has +done. There is silence for a minute, each looking at the other.] +I do not come to ask your pardon now, +Seeing I know I stand beyond all pardon; +Enough of that: I have already, sir, +Confessed my sin to the Lords Justices; +They would not listen to me: and some said +I did invent a tale to save your life; +You have trafficked with me; others said +That women played with pity as with men; +Others that grief for my slain Lord and husband +Had robbed me of my wits: they would not hear me, +And, when I sware it on the holy book, +They bade the doctor cure me. They are ten, +Ten against one, and they possess your life. +They call me Duchess here in Padua. +I do not know, sir; if I be the Duchess, +I wrote your pardon, and they would not take it; +They call it treason, say I taught them that; +Maybe I did. Within an hour, Guido, +They will be here, and drag you from the cell, +And bind your hands behind your back, and bid you +Kneel at the block: I am before them there; +Here is the signet ring of Padua, +'Twill bring you safely through the men on guard; +There is my cloak and vizard; they have orders +Not to be curious: when you pass the gate +Turn to the left, and at the second bridge +You will find horses waiting: by to-morrow +You will be at Venice, safe. [A pause.] +Do you not speak? +Will you not even curse me ere you go? - +You have the right. [A pause.] +You do not understand +There lies between you and the headsman's axe +Hardly so much sand in the hour-glass +As a child's palm could carry: here is the ring: +I have washed my hand: there is no blood upon it: +You need not fear. Will you not take the ring? + +GUIDO + +[takes ring and kisses it] +Ay! gladly, Madam. + +DUCHESS + +And leave Padua. + +GUIDO + +Leave Padua. + +DUCHESS + +But it must be to-night. + +GUIDO + +To-night it shall be. + +DUCHESS + +Oh, thank God for that! + +GUIDO + +So I can live; life never seemed so sweet +As at this moment. + +DUCHESS + +Do not tarry, Guido, +There is my cloak: the horse is at the bridge, +The second bridge below the ferry house: +Why do you tarry? Can your ears not hear +This dreadful bell, whose every ringing stroke +Robs one brief minute from your boyish life. +Go quickly. + +GUIDO + +Ay! he will come soon enough. + +DUCHESS + +Who? + +GUIDO + +[calmly] +Why, the headsman. + +DUCHESS + +No, no. + +GUIDO + +Only he +Can bring me out of Padua. + +DUCHESS + +You dare not! +You dare not burden my o'erburdened soul +With two dead men! I think one is enough. +For when I stand before God, face to face, +I would not have you, with a scarlet thread +Around your white throat, coming up behind +To say I did it. + +GUIDO + +Madam, I wait. + +DUCHESS + +No, no, you cannot: you do not understand, +I have less power in Padua to-night +Than any common woman; they will kill you. +I saw the scaffold as I crossed the square, +Already the low rabble throng about it +With fearful jests, and horrid merriment, +As though it were a morris-dancer's platform, +And not Death's sable throne. O Guido, Guido, +You must escape! + +GUIDO + +Madam, I tarry here. + +DUCHESS + +Guido, you shall not: it would be a thing +So terrible that the amazed stars +Would fall from heaven, and the palsied moon +Be in her sphere eclipsed, and the great sun +Refuse to shine upon the unjust earth +Which saw thee die. + +GUIDO + +Be sure I shall not stir. + +DUCHESS + +[wringing her hands] +Is one sin not enough, but must it breed +A second sin more horrible again +Than was the one that bare it? O God, God, +Seal up sin's teeming womb, and make it barren, +I will not have more blood upon my hand +Than I have now. + +GUIDO + +[seizing her hand] +What! am I fallen so low +That I may not have leave to die for you? + +DUCHESS + +[tearing her hand away] +Die for me?--no, my life is a vile thing, +Thrown to the miry highways of this world; +You shall not die for me, you shall not, Guido; +I am a guilty woman. + +GUIDO + +Guilty?--let those +Who know what a thing temptation is, +Let those who have not walked as we have done, +In the red fire of passion, those whose lives +Are dull and colourless, in a word let those, +If any such there be, who have not loved, +Cast stones against you. As for me - + +DUCHESS + +Alas! + +GUIDO + +[falling at her feet] +You are my lady, and you are my love! +O hair of gold, O crimson lips, O face +Made for the luring and the love of man! +Incarnate image of pure loveliness! +Worshipping thee I do forget the past, +Worshipping thee my soul comes close to thine, +Worshipping thee I seem to be a god, +And though they give my body to the block, +Yet is my love eternal! +[DUCHESS puts her hands over her face: GUIDO draws them down.] +Sweet, lift up +The trailing curtains that overhang your eyes +That I may look into those eyes, and tell you +I love you, never more than now when Death +Thrusts his cold lips between us: Beatrice, +I love you: have you no word left to say? +Oh, I can bear the executioner, +But not this silence: will you not say you love me? +Speak but that word and Death shall lose his sting, +But speak it not, and fifty thousand deaths +Are, in comparison, mercy. Oh, you are cruel, +And do not love me. + +DUCHESS + +Alas! I have no right +For I have stained the innocent hands of love +With spilt-out blood: there is blood on the ground; +I set it there. + +GUIDO + +Sweet, it was not yourself, +It was some devil tempted you. + +DUCHESS + +[rising suddenly] +No, no, +We are each our own devil, and we make +This world our hell. + +GUIDO + +Then let high Paradise +Fall into Tartarus! for I shall make +This world my heaven for a little space. +The sin was mine, if any sin there was. +'Twas I who nurtured murder in my heart, +Sweetened my meats, seasoned my wine with it, +And in my fancy slew the accursed Duke +A hundred times a day. Why, had this man +Died half so often as I wished him to, +Death had been stalking ever through the house, +And murder had not slept. +But you, fond heart, +Whose little eyes grew tender over a whipt hound, +You whom the little children laughed to see +Because you brought the sunlight where you passed, +You the white angel of God's purity, +This which men call your sin, what was it? + +DUCHESS + +Ay! +What was it? There are times it seems a dream, +An evil dream sent by an evil god, +And then I see the dead face in the coffin +And know it is no dream, but that my hand +Is red with blood, and that my desperate soul +Striving to find some haven for its love +From the wild tempest of this raging world, +Has wrecked its bark upon the rocks of sin. +What was it, said you?--murder merely? Nothing +But murder, horrible murder. + +GUIDO + +Nay, nay, nay, +'Twas but the passion-flower of your love +That in one moment leapt to terrible life, +And in one moment bare this gory fruit, +Which I had plucked in thought a thousand times. +My soul was murderous, but my hand refused; +Your hand wrought murder, but your soul was pure. +And so I love you, Beatrice, and let him +Who has no mercy for your stricken head, +Lack mercy up in heaven! Kiss me, sweet. +[Tries to kiss her.] + +DUCHESS + +No, no, your lips are pure, and mine are soiled, +For Guilt has been my paramour, and Sin +Lain in my bed: O Guido, if you love me +Get hence, for every moment is a worm +Which gnaws your life away: nay, sweet, get hence, +And if in after time you think of me, +Think of me as of one who loved you more +Than anything on earth; think of me, Guido, +As of a woman merely, one who tried +To make her life a sacrifice to love, +And slew love in the trial: Oh, what is that? +The bell has stopped from ringing, and I hear +The feet of armed men upon the stair. + +GUIDO + +[aside] +That is the signal for the guard to come. + +DUCHESS + +Why has the bell stopped ringing? + +GUIDO + +If you must know, +That stops my life on this side of the grave, +But on the other we shall meet again. + +DUCHESS + +No, no, 'tis not too late: you must get hence; +The horse is by the bridge, there is still time. +Away, away, you must not tarry here! +[Noise of Soldiers in the passage.] + +A VOICE OUTSIDE + +Room for the Lord Justice of Padua! +[The LORD JUSTICE is seen through the grated window passing down +the corridor preceded by men bearing torches.] + +DUCHESS + +It is too late. + +A VOICE OUTSIDE + +Room for the headsman. + +DUCHESS + +[sinks down] +Oh! +[The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder is seen passing the +corridor, followed by Monks bearing candles.] + +GUIDO + +Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this poison. +I do not fear the headsman, but I would die +Not on the lonely scaffold. +But here, +Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell! +[Goes to the table and takes the goblet up.] What, art thou empty? +[Throws it to the ground.] +O thou churlish gaoler, +Even of poisons niggard! + +DUCHESS + +[faintly] +Blame him not. + +GUIDO + +O God! you have not drunk it, Beatrice? +Tell me you have not? + +DUCHESS + +Were I to deny it, +There is a fire eating at my heart +Which would find utterance. + +GUIDO + +O treacherous love, +Why have you not left a drop for me? + +DUCHESS + +No, no, it held but death enough for one. + +GUIDO + +Is there no poison still upon your lips, +That I may draw it from them? + +DUCHESS + +Why should you die? +You have not spilt blood, and so need not die: +I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die. +Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood? +Who said that? I forget. + +GUIDO + +Tarry for me, +Our souls will go together. + +DUCHESS + +Nay, you must live. +There are many other women in the world +Who will love you, and not murder for your sake. + +GUIDO + +I love you only. + +DUCHESS + +You need not die for that. + +GUIDO + +Ah, if we die together, love, why then +Can we not lie together in one grave? + +DUCHESS + +A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed. + +GUIDO + +It is enough for us + +DUCHESS + +And they will strew it +With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs: +I think there are no roses in the grave, +Or if there are, they all are withered now +Since my Lord went there. + +GUIDO + +Ah! dear Beatrice, +Your lips are roses that death cannot wither. + +DUCHESS + +Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips +Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes +Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms, +Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart? + +GUIDO + +I do not care: Death has no power on love. +And so by Love's immortal sovereignty +I will die with you. + +DUCHESS + +But the grave is black, +And the pit black, so I must go before +To light the candles for your coming hither. +No, no, I will not die, I will not die. +Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave; +Stand between me and the angel of death, +And wrestle with him for me. +[Thrusts GUIDO in front of her with his back to the audience.] +I will kiss you, +When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial, +To stay the workings of this poison in me? +Are there no rivers left in Italy +That you will not fetch me one cup of water +To quench this fire? + +GUIDO + +O God! + +DUCHESS + +You did not tell me +There was a drought in Italy, and no water: +Nothing but fire. + +GUIDO + +O Love! + +DUCHESS + +Send for a leech, +Not him who stanched my husband, but another +We have no time: send for a leech, I say: +There is an antidote against each poison, +And he will sell it if we give him money. +Tell him that I will give him Padua, +For one short hour of life: I will not die. +Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me, +This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know +It was such pain to die: I thought that life +Had taken all the agonies to itself; +It seems it is not so. + +GUIDO + +O damned stars +Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, and bid +The moon, your mistress, shine no more to-night. + +DUCHESS + +Guido, why are we here? I think this room +Is poorly furnished for a marriage chamber. +Let us get hence at once. Where are the horses? +We should be on our way to Venice now. +How cold the night is! We must ride faster. +[The Monks begin to chant outside.] +Music! It should be merrier; but grief +Is of the fashion now--I know not why. +You must not weep: do we not love each other? - +That is enough. Death, what do you here? +You were not bidden to this table, sir; +Away, we have no need of you: I tell you +It was in wine I pledged you, not in poison. +They lied who told you that I drank your poison. +It was spilt upon the ground, like my Lord's blood; +You came too late. + +GUIDO + +Sweet, there is nothing there: +These things are only unreal shadows. + +DUCHESS + +Death, +Why do you tarry, get to the upper chamber; +The cold meats of my husband's funeral feast +Are set for you; this is a wedding feast. +You are out of place, sir; and, besides, 'tis summer. +We do not need these heavy fires now, +You scorch us. +Oh, I am burned up, +Can you do nothing? Water, give me water, +Or else more poison. No: I feel no pain - +Is it not curious I should feel no pain? - +And Death has gone away, I am glad of that. +I thought he meant to part us. Tell me, Guido, +Are you not sorry that you ever saw me? + +GUIDO + +I swear I would not have lived otherwise. +Why, in this dull and common world of ours +Men have died looking for such moments as this +And have not found them. + +DUCHESS + +Then you are not sorry? +How strange that seems. + +GUIDO + +What, Beatrice, have I not +Stood face to face with beauty? That is enough +For one man's life. Why, love, I could be merry; +I have been often sadder at a feast, +But who were sad at such a feast as this +When Love and Death are both our cup-bearers? +We love and die together. + +DUCHESS + +Oh, I have been +Guilty beyond all women, and indeed +Beyond all women punished. Do you think - +No, that could not be--Oh, do you think that love +Can wipe the bloody stain from off my hands, +Pour balm into my wounds, heal up my hurts, +And wash my scarlet sins as white as snow? - +For I have sinned. + +GUIDO + +They do not sin at all +Who sin for love. + +DUCHESS + +No, I have sinned, and yet +Perchance my sin will be forgiven me. +I have loved much + +[They kiss each other now for the first time in this Act, when +suddenly the DUCHESS leaps up in the dreadful spasm of death, tears +in agony at her dress, and finally, with face twisted and distorted +with pain, falls back dead in a chair. GUIDO seizing her dagger +from her belt, kills himself; and, as he falls across her knees, +clutches at the cloak which is on the back of the chair, and throws +it entirely over her. There is a little pause. Then down the +passage comes the tramp of Soldiers; the door is opened, and the +LORD JUSTICE, the Headsman, and the Guard enter and see this figure +shrouded in black, and GUIDO lying dead across her. The LORD +JUSTICE rushes forward and drags the cloak off the DUCHESS, whose +face is now the marble image of peace, the sign of God's +forgiveness.] + +Tableau + +CURTAIN + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE DUCHESS OF PADUA *** + +This file should be named dpdua10.txt or dpdua10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, dpdua11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, dpdua10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/dpdua10.zip b/old/dpdua10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1f1103 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dpdua10.zip diff --git a/old/dpdua10h.htm b/old/dpdua10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..550f170 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dpdua10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3326 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>New File</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +blockquote {font-size:14pt} +P {font-size:14pt} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + + +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Duchess of Padua, by Oscar Wilde</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Duchess of Padua, by Oscar Wilde +(#9 in our series by Oscar Wilde) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Duchess of Padua + +Author: Oscar Wilde + +Release Date: April, 1997 [EBook #875] +[This file was first posted on April 9, 1997] +[Most recently updated: September 25, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1916 Methuen and Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE DUCHESS OF PADUA</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<pre> +Simone Gesso, Duke of Padua +Beatrice, his Wife +Andreas Pollajuolo, Cardinal of Padua +Maffio Petrucci, } +Jeppo Vitellozzo, } +Gentlemen of the Duke’s Household +Taddeo Bardi, } +Guido Ferranti, a Young Man +Ascanio Cristofano, his Friend +Count Moranzone, an Old Man +Bernardo Cavalcanti, Lord Justice of Padua +Hugo, the Headsman +Lucy, a Tire woman +</pre> + +<p>Servants, Citizens, Soldiers, Monks, Falconers with their hawks and +dogs, etc. +<p>Place: Padua<br />Time: The latter half of the Sixteenth Century<br />Style +of Architecture: Italian, Gothic and Romanesque.</p> +<p>THE SCENES OF THE PLAY</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>ACT I. The Market Place of Padua (25 minutes).<br />ACT II. +Room in the Duke’s Palace (36 minutes).<br />ACT III. Corridor +in the Duke’s Palace (29 minutes).<br />ACT IV. The Hall +of Justice (31 minutes).<br />ACT V. The Dungeon (25 minutes).</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ACT I</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>SCENE</p> +<p>The Market Place of Padua at noon; in the background is the great +Cathedral of Padua; the architecture is Romanesque, and wrought in black +and white marbles; a flight of marble steps leads up to the Cathedral +door; at the foot of the steps are two large stone lions; the houses +on each aide of the stage have coloured awnings from their windows, +and are flanked by stone arcades; on the right of the stage is the public +fountain, with a triton in green bronze blowing from a conch; around +the fountain is a stone seat; the bell of the Cathedral is ringing, +and the citizens, men, women and children, are passing into the Cathedral.</p> +<p>[Enter GUIDO FERRANTI and ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.]</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Now by my life, Guido, I will go no farther; for if I walk another +step I will have no life left to swear by; this wild-goose errand of +yours!</p> +<p>[Sits down on the step of the fountain.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I think it must be here. [Goes up to passer-by and doffs his +cap.] Pray, sir, is this the market place, and that the church +of Santa Croce? [Citizen bows.] I thank you, sir.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Well?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ay! it is here.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>I would it were somewhere else, for I see no wine-shop.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it.] ‘The +hour noon; the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint +Philip’s Day.’</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>And what of the man, how shall we know him?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[reading still] ‘I will wear a violet cloak with a silver +falcon broidered on the shoulder.’ A brave attire, Ascanio.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>I’d sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he +will tell you of your father?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the +vineyard, just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used +to get in, a man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave me +this letter, signed ‘Your Father’s Friend,’ bidding +me be here to-day if I would know the secret of my birth, and telling +me how to recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro +was my uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left +a child in his charge by some one he had never since seen.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>And you don’t know who your father is?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>No recollection of him even?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>None, Ascanio, none.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>[laughing] Then he could never have boxed your ears so often +as my father did mine.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[smiling] I am sure you never deserved it.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Never; and that made it worse. I hadn’t the consciousness +of guilt to buoy me up. What hour did you say he fixed?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Noon. [Clock in the Cathedral strikes.]</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>It is that now, and your man has not come. I don’t believe +in him, Guido. I think it is some wench who has set her eye at +you; and, as I have followed you from Perugia to Padua, I swear you +shall follow me to the nearest tavern. [Rises.] By the great +gods of eating, Guido, I am as hungry as a widow is for a husband, as +tired as a young maid is of good advice, and as dry as a monk’s +sermon. Come, Guido, you stand there looking at nothing, like +the fool who tried to look into his own mind; your man will not come.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Well, I suppose you are right. Ah! [Just as he is leaving +the stage with ASCANIO, enter LORD MORANZONE in a violet cloak, with +a silver falcon broidered on the shoulder; he passes across to the Cathedral, +and just as he is going in GUIDO runs up and touches him.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti, thou hast come in time.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What! Does my father live?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! lives in thee.<br />Thou art the same in mould and lineament,<br />Carriage +and form, and outward semblances;<br />I trust thou art in noble mind +the same.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, tell me of my father; I have lived<br />But for this moment.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>We must be alone.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>This is my dearest friend, who out of love<br />Has followed me to +Padua; as two brothers,<br />There is no secret which we do not share.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>There is one secret which ye shall not share;<br />Bid him go hence.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[to ASCANIO] Come back within the hour.<br />He does not know +that nothing in this world<br />Can dim the perfect mirror of our love.<br />Within +the hour come.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Speak not to him,<br />There is a dreadful terror in his look.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[laughing]<br />Nay, nay, I doubt not that he has come to tell<br />That +I am some great Lord of Italy,<br />And we will have long days of joy +together.<br />Within the hour, dear Ascanio.<br />[Exit ASCANIO.]<br />Now +tell me of my father?<br />[Sits down on a stone seat.]<br />Stood he +tall?<br />I warrant he looked tall upon his horse.<br />His hair was +black? or perhaps a reddish gold,<br />Like a red fire of gold? +Was his voice low?<br />The very bravest men have voices sometimes<br />Full +of low music; or a clarion was it<br />That brake with terror all his +enemies?<br />Did he ride singly? or with many squires<br />And valiant +gentlemen to serve his state?<br />For oftentimes methinks I feel my +veins<br />Beat with the blood of kings. Was he a king?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay, of all men he was the kingliest.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[proudly] Then when you saw my noble father last<br />He was +set high above the heads of men?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay, he was high above the heads of men,<br />[Walks over to GUIDO +and puts his hand upon his shoulder.]<br />On a red scaffold, with a +butcher’s block<br />Set for his neck.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[leaping up]<br />What dreadful man art thou,<br />That like a raven, +or the midnight owl,<br />Com’st with this awful message from +the grave?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I am known here as the Count Moranzone,<br />Lord of a barren castle +on a rock,<br />With a few acres of unkindly land<br />And six not thrifty +servants. But I was one<br />Of Parma’s noblest princes; +more than that,<br />I was your father’s friend.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[clasping his hand] Tell me of him.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>You are the son of that great Duke Lorenzo,<br />He was the Prince +of Parma, and the Duke<br />Of all the fair domains of Lombardy<br />Down +to the gates of Florence; nay, Florence even<br />Was wont to pay him +tribute -</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Come to his death.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>You will hear that soon enough. Being at war -<br />O noble +lion of war, that would not suffer<br />Injustice done in Italy! - he +led<br />The very flower of chivalry against<br />That foul adulterous +Lord of Rimini,<br />Giovanni Malatesta - whom God curse!<br />And was +by him in treacherous ambush taken,<br />And like a villain, or a low-born +knave,<br />Was by him on the public scaffold murdered.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[clutching his dagger] Doth Malatesta live?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>No, he is dead.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Did you say dead? O too swift runner, Death,<br />Couldst thou +not wait for me a little space,<br />And I had done thy bidding!</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[clutching his wrist] Thou canst do it!<br />The man who sold +thy father is alive.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Sold! was my father sold?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! trafficked for,<br />Like a vile chattel, for a price betrayed,<br />Bartered +and bargained for in privy market<br />By one whom he had held his perfect +friend,<br />One he had trusted, one he had well loved,<br />One whom +by ties of kindness he had bound -</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>And he lives<br />Who sold my father?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I will bring you to him.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will make<br />This world thy +field of blood, so buy it straight-way,<br />For thou must hang there.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Judas said you, boy?<br />Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still<br />He +was more wise than Judas was, and held<br />Those thirty silver pieces +not enough.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What got he for my father’s blood?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What got he?<br />Why cities, fiefs, and principalities,<br />Vineyards, +and lands.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Of which he shall but keep<br />Six feet of ground to rot in. +Where is he,<br />This damned villain, this foul devil? where?<br />Show +me the man, and come he cased in steel,<br />In complete panoply and +pride of war,<br />Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms,<br />Yet I +shall reach him through their spears, and feel<br />The last black drop +of blood from his black heart<br />Crawl down my blade. Show me +the man, I say,<br />And I will kill him.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[coldly]<br />Fool, what revenge is there?<br />Death is the common +heritage of all,<br />And death comes best when it comes suddenly.<br />[Goes +up close to GUIDO.]<br />Your father was betrayed, there is your cue;<br />For +you shall sell the seller in his turn.<br />I will make you of his household, +you shall sit<br />At the same board with him, eat of his bread -</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O bitter bread!</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Thy palate is too nice,<br />Revenge will make it sweet. Thou +shalt o’ nights<br />Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and +be<br />His intimate, so he will fawn on thee,<br />Love thee, and trust +thee in all secret things.<br />If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh,<br />And +if it be his humour to be sad<br />Thou shalt don sables. Then +when the time is ripe -<br />[GUIDO clutches his sword.]<br />Nay, nay, +I trust thee not; your hot young blood,<br />Undisciplined nature, and +too violent rage<br />Will never tarry for this great revenge,<br />But +wreck itself on passion.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Thou knowest me not.<br />Tell me the man, and I in everything<br />Will +do thy bidding.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Well, when the time is ripe,<br />The victim trusting and the occasion +sure,<br />I will by sudden secret messenger<br />Send thee a sign.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>How shall I kill him, tell me?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>That night thou shalt creep into his private chamber;<br />But if +he sleep see that thou wake him first,<br />And hold thy hand upon his +throat, ay! that way,<br />Then having told him of what blood thou art,<br />Sprung +from what father, and for what revenge,<br />Bid him to pray for mercy; +when he prays,<br />Bid him to set a price upon his life,<br />And when +he strips himself of all his gold<br />Tell him thou needest not gold, +and hast not mercy,<br />And do thy business straight away. Swear +to me<br />Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it,<br />Or else +I go to mine own house, and leave<br />Thee ignorant, and thy father +unavenged.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Now by my father’s sword -</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>The common hangman<br />Brake that in sunder in the public square.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Then by my father’s grave -</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What grave? what grave?<br />Your noble father lieth in no grave,<br />I +saw his dust strewn on the air, his ashes<br />Whirled through the windy +streets like common straws<br />To plague a beggar’s eyesight, +and his head,<br />That gentle head, set on the prison spike,<br />For +the vile rabble in their insolence<br />To shoot their tongues at.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Was it so indeed?<br />Then by my father’s spotless memory,<br />And +by the shameful manner of his death,<br />And by the base betrayal by +his friend,<br />For these at least remain, by these I swear<br />I +will not lay my hand upon his life<br />Until you bid me, then - God +help his soul,<br />For he shall die as never dog died yet.<br />And +now, the sign, what is it?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>This dagger, boy;<br />It was your father’s.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, let me look at it!<br />I do remember now my reputed uncle,<br />That +good old husbandman I left at home,<br />Told me a cloak wrapped round +me when a babe<br />Bare too such yellow leopards wrought in gold;<br />I +like them best in steel, as they are here,<br />They suit my purpose +better. Tell me, sir,<br />Have you no message from my father +to me?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Poor boy, you never saw that noble father,<br />For when by his false +friend he had been sold,<br />Alone of all his gentlemen I escaped<br />To +bear the news to Parma to the Duchess.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Speak to me of my mother.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>When thy mother<br />Heard my black news, she fell into a swoon,<br />And, +being with untimely travail seized -<br />Bare thee into the world before +thy time,<br />And then her soul went heavenward, to wait<br />Thy father, +at the gates of Paradise.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>A mother dead, a father sold and bartered!<br />I seem to stand on +some beleaguered wall,<br />And messenger comes after messenger<br />With +a new tale of terror; give me breath,<br />Mine ears are tired.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>When thy mother died,<br />Fearing our enemies, I gave it out<br />Thou +wert dead also, and then privily<br />Conveyed thee to an ancient servitor,<br />Who +by Perugia lived; the rest thou knowest.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Saw you my father afterwards?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! once;<br />In mean attire, like a vineyard dresser,<br />I stole +to Rimini.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[taking his hand]<br />O generous heart!</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>One can buy everything in Rimini,<br />And so I bought the gaolers! +when your father<br />Heard that a man child had been born to him,<br />His +noble face lit up beneath his helm<br />Like a great fire seen far out +at sea,<br />And taking my two hands, he bade me, Guido,<br />To rear +you worthy of him; so I have reared you<br />To revenge his death upon +the friend who sold him.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Thou hast done well; I for my father thank thee.<br />And now his +name?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>How you remind me of him,<br />You have each gesture that your father +had.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>The traitor’s name?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Thou wilt hear that anon;<br />The Duke and other nobles at the Court<br />Are +coming hither.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What of that? his name?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Do they not seem a valiant company<br />Of honourable, honest gentlemen?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>His name, milord?</p> +<p>[Enter the DUKE OF PADUA with COUNT BARDI, MAFFIO, PETRUCCI, and +other gentlemen of his Court.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[quickly]<br />The man to whom I kneel<br />Is he who sold your father! +mark me well.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[clutches hit dagger]<br />The Duke!</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Leave off that fingering of thy knife.<br />Hast thou so soon forgotten?<br />[Kneels +to the DUKE.]<br />My noble Lord.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Welcome, Count Moranzone; ’tis some time<br />Since we have +seen you here in Padua.<br />We hunted near your castle yesterday -<br />Call +you it castle? that bleak house of yours<br />Wherein you sit a-mumbling +o’er your beads,<br />Telling your vices like a good old man.<br />[Catches +sight of GUIDO and starts back.]<br />Who is that?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>My sister’s son, your Grace,<br />Who being now of age to carry +arms,<br />Would for a season tarry at your Court</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[still looking at GUIDO]<br />What is his name?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti, sir.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>His city?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>He is Mantuan by birth.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[advancing towards GUIDO]<br />You have the eyes of one I used to +know,<br />But he died childless. Are you honest, boy?<br />Then +be not spendthrift of your honesty,<br />But keep it to yourself; in +Padua<br />Men think that honesty is ostentatious, so<br />It is not +of the fashion. Look at these lords.</p> +<p>COUNT BARDI</p> +<p>[aside]<br />Here is some bitter arrow for us, sure.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Why, every man among them has his price,<br />Although, to do them +justice, some of them<br />Are quite expensive.</p> +<p>COUNT BARDI</p> +<p>[aside]<br />There it comes indeed.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>So be not honest; eccentricity<br />Is not a thing should ever be +encouraged,<br />Although, in this dull stupid age of ours,<br />The +most eccentric thing a man can do<br />Is to have brains, then the mob +mocks at him;<br />And for the mob, despise it as I do,<br />I hold +its bubble praise and windy favours<br />In such account, that popularity<br />Is +the one insult I have never suffered.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>[aside]</p> +<p>He has enough of hate, if he needs that.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Have prudence; in your dealings with the world<br />Be not too hasty; +act on the second thought,<br />First impulses are generally good.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[aside]<br />Surely a toad sits on his lips, and spills its venom +there.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>See thou hast enemies,<br />Else will the world think very little +of thee;<br />It is its test of power; yet see thou show’st<br />A +smiling mask of friendship to all men,<br />Until thou hast them safely +in thy grip,<br />Then thou canst crush them.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[aside]<br />O wise philosopher!<br />That for thyself dost dig so +deep a grave.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[to him]<br />Dost thou mark his words?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, be thou sure I do.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>And be not over-scrupulous; clean hands<br />With nothing in them +make a sorry show.<br />If you would have the lion’s share of +life<br />You must wear the fox’s skin. Oh, it will fit +you;<br />It is a coat which fitteth every man.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Your Grace, I shall remember.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>That is well, boy, well.<br />I would not have about me shallow fools,<br />Who +with mean scruples weigh the gold of life,<br />And faltering, paltering, +end by failure; failure,<br />The only crime which I have not committed:<br />I +would have <i>men</i> about me. As for conscience,<br />Conscience +is but the name which cowardice<br />Fleeing from battle scrawls upon +its shield.<br />You understand me, boy?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I do, your Grace,<br />And will in all things carry out the creed<br />Which +you have taught me.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>I never heard your Grace<br />So much in the vein for preaching; +let the Cardinal<br />Look to his laurels, sir.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>The Cardinal!<br />Men follow my creed, and they gabble his.<br />I +do not think much of the Cardinal;<br />Although he is a holy churchman, +and<br />I quite admit his dulness. Well, sir, from now<br />We +count you of our household<br />[He holds out his hand for GUIDO to +kiss. GUIDO starts back in horror, but at a gesture from COUNT +MORANZONE, kneels and kisses it.]<br />We will see<br />That you are +furnished with such equipage<br />As doth befit your honour and our +state.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I thank your Grace most heartily.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Tell me again<br />What is your name?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti, sir.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>And you are Mantuan? Look to your wives, my lords,<br />When +such a gallant comes to Padua.<br />Thou dost well to laugh, Count Bardi; +I have noted<br />How merry is that husband by whose hearth<br />Sits +an uncomely wife.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>May it please your Grace,<br />The wives of Padua are above suspicion.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>What, are they so ill-favoured! Let us go,<br />This Cardinal +detains our pious Duchess;<br />His sermon and his beard want cutting +both:<br />Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text<br />From holy +Jerome?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[bowing]<br />My liege, there are some matters -</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[interrupting]<br />Thou need’st make no excuse for missing +mass.<br />Come, gentlemen.<br />[Exit with his suite into Cathedral.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[after a pause]<br />So the Duke sold my father;<br />I kissed his +hand.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Thou shalt do that many times.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Must it be so?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! thou hast sworn an oath.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>That oath shall make me marble.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Farewell, boy,<br />Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I pray thou comest quickly.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I will come<br />When it is time; be ready.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Fear me not.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Here is your friend; see that you banish him<br />Both from your +heart and Padua.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>From Padua,<br />Not from my heart.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Nay, from thy heart as well,<br />I will not leave thee till I see +thee do it.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Can I have no friend?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Revenge shall be thy friend;<br />Thou need’st no other.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Well, then be it so.<br />[Enter ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.]</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in everything, for I +have drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and kissed the maid who +served it. Why, you look as melancholy as a schoolboy who cannot +buy apples, or a politician who cannot sell his vote. What news, +Guido, what news?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Why, that we two must part, Ascanio.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>That would be news indeed, but it is not true.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio,<br />And never look +upon my face again.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido;<br />’Tis true I +am a common yeoman’s son,<br />Nor versed in fashions of much +courtesy;<br />But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be<br />Your serving +man? I will tend you with more love<br />Than any hired servant.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[clasping his hand]<br />Ascanio!<br />[Sees MORANZONE looking at +him and drops ASCANIO’S hand.]<br />It cannot be.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>What, is it so with you?<br />I thought the friendship of the antique +world<br />Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type<br />Might even +in this poor and common age<br />Find counterparts of love; then by +this love<br />Which beats between us like a summer sea,<br />Whatever +lot has fallen to your hand<br />May I not share it?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Share it?</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Ay!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No, no.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Have you then come to some inheritance<br />Of lordly castle, or +of stored-up gold?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[bitterly]<br />Ay! I have come to my inheritance.<br />O bloody +legacy! and O murderous dole!<br />Which, like the thrifty miser, must +I hoard,<br />And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you,<br />Let +us part here.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>What, shall we never more<br />Sit hand in hand, as we were wont +to sit,<br />Over some book of ancient chivalry<br />Stealing a truant +holiday from school,<br />Follow the huntsmen through the autumn woods,<br />And +watch the falcons burst their tasselled jesses,<br />When the hare breaks +from covert.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Never more.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Must I go hence without a word of love?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>You must go hence, and may love go with you.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>You are unknightly, and ungenerous.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Unknightly and ungenerous if you will.<br />Why should we waste more +words about the matter<br />Let us part now.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Have you no message, Guido?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>None; my whole past was but a schoolboy’s dream;<br />To-day +my life begins. Farewell.</p> +<p>ASCANIO</p> +<p>Farewell [exit slowly.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Now are you satisfied? Have you not seen<br />My dearest friend, +and my most loved companion,<br />Thrust from me like a common kitchen +knave!<br />Oh, that I did it! Are you not satisfied?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! I am satisfied. Now I go hence,<br />Do not forget the +sign, your father’s dagger,<br />And do the business when I send +it to you.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Be sure I shall. [Exit LORD MORANZONE.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O thou eternal heaven!<br />If there is aught of nature in my soul,<br />Of +gentle pity, or fond kindliness,<br />Wither it up, blast it, bring +it to nothing,<br />Or if thou wilt not, then will I myself<br />Cut +pity with a sharp knife from my heart<br />And strangle mercy in her +sleep at night<br />Lest she speak to me. Vengeance there I have +it.<br />Be thou my comrade and my bedfellow,<br />Sit by my side, ride +to the chase with me,<br />When I am weary sing me pretty songs,<br />When +I am light o’ heart, make jest with me,<br />And when I dream, +whisper into my ear<br />The dreadful secret of a father’s murder +-<br />Did I say murder? [Draws his dagger.]<br />Listen, thou +terrible God!<br />Thou God that punishest all broken oaths,<br />And +bid some angel write this oath in fire,<br />That from this hour, till +my dear father’s murder<br />In blood I have revenged, I do forswear<br />The +noble ties of honourable friendship,<br />The noble joys of dear companionship,<br />Affection’s +bonds, and loyal gratitude,<br />Ay, more, from this same hour I do +forswear<br />All love of women, and the barren thing<br />Which men +call beauty -<br />[The organ peals in the Cathedral, and under a canopy +of cloth of silver tissue, borne by four pages in scarlet, the DUCHESS +OF PADUA comes down the steps; as she passes across their eyes meet +for a moment, and as she leaves the stage she looks back at GUIDO, and +the dagger falls from his hand.]<br />Oh! who is that?</p> +<p>A CITIZEN</p> +<p>The Duchess of Padua!</p> +<p>END OF ACT I.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ACT II</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>SCENE</p> +<p>A state room in the Ducal Palace, hung with tapestries representing +the Masque of Venus; a large door in the centre opens into a corridor +of red marble, through which one can see a view of Padua; a large canopy +is set (R.C.) with three thrones, one a little lower than the others; +the ceiling is made of long gilded beams; furniture of the period, chairs +covered with gilt leather, and buffets set with gold and silver plate, +and chests painted with mythological scenes. A number of the courtiers +is out on the corridor looking from it down into the street below; from +the street comes the roar of a mob and cries of ‘Death to the +Duke’: after a little interval enter the Duke very calmly; he +is leaning on the arm of Guido Ferranti; with him enters also the Lord +Cardinal; the mob still shouting.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her!<br />Why, she is worse than +ugly, she is good.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>[excitedly]<br />Your Grace, there are two thousand people there<br />Who +every moment grow more clamorous.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs!<br />People +who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing;<br />The only men I fear are +silent men.<br />[A yell from the people.]<br />You see, Lord Cardinal, +how my people love me.<br />[Another yell.] Go, Petrucci,<br />And +tell the captain of the guard below<br />To clear the square. +Do you not hear me, sir?<br />Do what I bid you.</p> +<p>[Exit PETRUCCI.]</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>I beseech your Grace<br />To listen to their grievances.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[sitting on his throne]<br />Ay! the peaches<br />Are not so big +this year as they were last.<br />I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal,<br />I +thought you spake of peaches.<br />[A cheer from the people.]<br />What +is that?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[rushes to the window]<br />The Duchess has gone forth into the square,<br />And +stands between the people and the guard,<br />And will not let them +shoot.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>The devil take her!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[still at the window]<br />And followed by a dozen of the citizens<br />Has +come into the Palace.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[starting up]<br />By Saint James,<br />Our Duchess waxes bold!</p> +<p>BARDI</p> +<p>Here comes the Duchess.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Shut that door there; this morning air is cold.<br />[They close +the door on the corridor.]<br />[Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd +of meanly dressed Citizens.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[flinging herself upon her knees]<br />I do beseech your Grace to +give us audience.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>What are these grievances?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas, my Lord,<br />Such common things as neither you nor I,<br />Nor +any of these noble gentlemen,<br />Have ever need at all to think about;<br />They +say the bread, the very bread they eat,<br />Is made of sorry chaff.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Ay! so it is,<br />Nothing but chaff.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>And very good food too,<br />I give it to my horses.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[restraining herself]<br />They say the water,<br />Set in the public +cisterns for their use,<br />[Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,]<br />To +stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs<br />Take at the city +gate are grown so high<br />We cannot buy wine.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Then you should bless the taxes<br />Which make you temperate.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Think, while we sit<br />In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty<br />Creeps +through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives<br />Cuts the warm +throats of children stealthily<br />And no word said.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Ay! marry, that is true,<br />My little son died yesternight from +hunger;<br />He was but six years old; I am so poor,<br />I cannot bury +him.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>If you are poor,<br />Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty<br />Is +one of the Christian virtues,<br />[Turns to the CARDINAL.]<br />Is +it not?<br />I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues,<br />Rich +abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates<br />For preaching voluntary +poverty.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous;<br />While we sit here within +a noble house<br />[With shaded porticoes against the sun,<br />And +walls and roofs to keep the winter out],<br />There are many citizens +of Padua<br />Who in vile tenements live so full of holes,<br />That +the chill rain, the snow, and the rude blast,<br />Are tenants also +with them; others sleep<br />Under the arches of the public bridges<br />All +through the autumn nights, till the wet mist<br />Stiffens their limbs, +and fevers come, and so -</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>And so they go to Abraham’s bosom, Madam.<br />They should +thank me for sending them to Heaven,<br />If they are wretched here.<br />[To +the CARDINAL.]<br />Is it not said<br />Somewhere in Holy Writ, that +every man<br />Should be contented with that state of life<br />God +calls him to? Why should I change their state,<br />Or meddle +with an all-wise providence,<br />Which has apportioned that some men +should starve,<br />And others surfeit? I did not make the world.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>He hath a hard heart.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Nay, be silent, neighbour;<br />I think the Cardinal will speak for +us.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>True, it is Christian to bear misery,<br />Yet it is Christian also +to be kind,<br />And there seem many evils in this town,<br />Which +in your wisdom might your Grace reform.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>What is that word reform? What does it mean?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Marry, it means leaving things as they are; I like it not.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Reform Lord Cardinal, did <i>you</i> say reform?<br />There is a +man in Germany called Luther,<br />Who would reform the Holy Catholic +Church.<br />Have you not made him heretic, and uttered<br />Anathema, +maranatha, against him?</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>[rising from his seat]<br />He would have led the sheep out of the +fold,<br />We do but ask of you to feed the sheep.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed them.<br />As for these +rebels -<br />[DUCHESS entreats him.]</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>That is a kind word,<br />He means to give us something.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Is that so?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>These ragged knaves who come before us here,<br />With mouths chock-full +of treason.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Good my Lord,<br />Fill up our mouths with bread; we’ll hold +our tongues.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve or not.<br />My lords, +this age is so familiar grown,<br />That the low peasant hardly doffs +his hat,<br />Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic<br />Elbows +the noble in the public streets.<br />[To the Citizens.]<br />Still +as our gentle Duchess has so prayed us,<br />And to refuse so beautiful +a beggar<br />Were to lack both courtesy and love,<br />Touching your +grievances, I promise this -</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Marry, he will lighten the taxes!</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Or a dole of bread, think you, for each man?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>That, on next Sunday, the Lord Cardinal<br />Shall, after Holy Mass, +preach you a sermon<br />Upon the Beauty of Obedience.<br />[Citizens +murmur.]</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>I’ faith, that will not fill our stomachs!</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>A sermon is but a sorry sauce, when<br />You have nothing to eat +with it.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Poor people,<br />You see I have no power with the Duke,<br />But +if you go into the court without,<br />My almoner shall from my private +purse,<br />Divide a hundred ducats ’mongst you all.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>God save the Duchess, say I.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>God save her.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And every Monday morn shall bread be set<br />For those who lack +it.<br />[Citizens applaud and go out.]</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>[going out]<br />Why, God save the Duchess again!</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[calling him back]<br />Come hither, fellow! what is your name?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Dominick, sir.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>A good name! Why were you called Dominick?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>[scratching his head]<br />Marry, because I was born on St. George’s +day.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>A good reason! here is a ducat for you!<br />Will you not cry for +me God save the Duke?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>[feebly]<br />God save the Duke.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Nay! louder, fellow, louder.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>[a little louder]<br />God save the Duke!</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>More lustily, fellow, put more heart in it!<br />Here is another +ducat for you.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>[enthusiastically]<br />God save the Duke!</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[mockingly]<br />Why, gentlemen, this simple fellow’s love<br />Touches +me much. [To the Citizen, harshly.]<br />Go! [Exit Citizen, +bowing.]<br />This is the way, my lords,<br />You can buy popularity +nowadays.<br />Oh, we are nothing if not democratic!<br />[To the DUCHESS.]<br />Well, +Madam,<br />You spread rebellion ’midst our citizens.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>My Lord, the poor have rights you cannot touch,<br />The right to +pity, and the right to mercy.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>So, so, you argue with me? This is she,<br />The gentle Duchess +for whose hand I yielded<br />Three of the fairest towns in Italy,<br />Pisa, +and Genoa, and Orvieto.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Promised, my Lord, not yielded: in that matter<br />Brake you your +word as ever.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>You wrong us, Madam,<br />There were state reasons.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What state reasons are there<br />For breaking holy promises to a +state?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>There are wild boars at Pisa in a forest<br />Close to the city: +when I promised Pisa<br />Unto your noble and most trusting father,<br />I +had forgotten there was hunting there.<br />At Genoa they say,<br />Indeed +I doubt them not, that the red mullet<br />Runs larger in the harbour +of that town<br />Than anywhere in Italy.<br />[Turning to one of the +Court.]<br />You, my lord,<br />Whose gluttonous appetite is your only +god,<br />Could satisfy our Duchess on that point.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And Orvieto?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[yawning]<br />I cannot now recall<br />Why I did not surrender Orvieto<br />According +to the word of my contract.<br />Maybe it was because I did not choose.<br />[Goes +over to the DUCHESS.]<br />Why look you, Madam, you are here alone;<br />’Tis +many a dusty league to your grey France,<br />And even there your father +barely keeps<br />A hundred ragged squires for his Court.<br />What +hope have you, I say? Which of these lords<br />And noble gentlemen +of Padua<br />Stands by your side.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>There is not one.</p> +<p>[GUIDO starts, but restrains himself.]</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Nor shall be,<br />While I am Duke in Padua: listen, Madam,<br />Being +mine own, you shall do as I will,<br />And if it be my will you keep +the house,<br />Why then, this palace shall your prison be;<br />And +if it be my will you walk abroad,<br />Why, you shall take the air from +morn to night.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Sir, by what right -?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Madam, my second Duchess<br />Asked the same question once: her monument<br />Lies +in the chapel of Bartholomew,<br />Wrought in red marble; very beautiful.<br />Guido, +your arm. Come, gentlemen, let us go<br />And spur our falcons +for the mid-day chase.<br />Bethink you, Madam, you are here alone.<br />[Exit +the DUKE leaning on GUIDO, with his Court.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[looking after them]<br />The Duke said rightly that I was alone;<br />Deserted, +and dishonoured, and defamed,<br />Stood ever woman so alone indeed?<br />Men +when they woo us call us pretty children,<br />Tell us we have not wit +to make our lives,<br />And so they mar them for us. Did I say +woo?<br />We are their chattels, and their common slaves,<br />Less +dear than the poor hound that licks their hand,<br />Less fondled than +the hawk upon their wrist.<br />Woo, did I say? bought rather, sold +and bartered,<br />Our very bodies being merchandise.<br />I know it +is the general lot of women,<br />Each miserably mated to some man<br />Wrecks +her own life upon his selfishness:<br />That it is general makes it +not less bitter.<br />I think I never heard a woman laugh,<br />Laugh +for pure merriment, except one woman,<br />That was at night time, in +the public streets.<br />Poor soul, she walked with painted lips, and +wore<br />The mask of pleasure: I would not laugh like her;<br />No, +death were better.<br />[Enter GUIDO behind unobserved; the DUCHESS +flings herself down before a picture of the Madonna.]<br />O Mary mother, +with your sweet pale face<br />Bending between the little angel heads<br />That +hover round you, have you no help for me?<br />Mother of God, have you +no help for me?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I can endure no longer.<br />This is my love, and I will speak to +her.<br />Lady, am I a stranger to your prayers?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[rising]<br />None but the wretched needs my prayers, my lord.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Then must I need them, lady.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>How is that?<br />Does not the Duke show thee sufficient honour?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Your Grace, I lack no favours from the Duke,<br />Whom my soul loathes +as I loathe wickedness,<br />But come to proffer on my bended knees,<br />My +loyal service to thee unto death.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas! I am so fallen in estate<br />I can but give thee a poor +meed of thanks.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[seizing her hand]<br />Hast thou no love to give me?<br />[The DUCHESS +starts, and GUIDO falls at her feet.]<br />O dear saint,<br />If I have +been too daring, pardon me!<br />Thy beauty sets my boyish blood aflame,<br />And, +when my reverent lips touch thy white hand,<br />Each little nerve with +such wild passion thrills<br />That there is nothing which I would not +do<br />To gain thy love. [Leaps up.]<br />Bid me reach forth +and pluck<br />Perilous honour from the lion’s jaws,<br />And +I will wrestle with the Nemean beast<br />On the bare desert! +Fling to the cave of War<br />A gaud, a ribbon, a dead flower, something<br />That +once has touched thee, and I’ll bring it back<br />Though all +the hosts of Christendom were there,<br />Inviolate again! ay, more +than this,<br />Set me to scale the pallid white-faced cliffs<br />Of +mighty England, and from that arrogant shield<br />Will I raze out the +lilies of your France<br />Which England, that sea-lion of the sea,<br />Hath +taken from her!<br />O dear Beatrice,<br />Drive me not from thy presence! +without thee<br />The heavy minutes crawl with feet of lead,<br />But, +while I look upon thy loveliness,<br />The hours fly like winged Mercuries<br />And +leave existence golden.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I did not think<br />I should be ever loved: do you indeed<br />Love +me so much as now you say you do?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ask of the sea-bird if it loves the sea,<br />Ask of the roses if +they love the rain,<br />Ask of the little lark, that will not sing<br />Till +day break, if it loves to see the day:-<br />And yet, these are but +empty images,<br />Mere shadows of my love, which is a fire<br />So +great that all the waters of the main<br />Can not avail to quench it. +Will you not speak?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I hardly know what I should say to you.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Will you not say you love me?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Is that my lesson?<br />Must I say all at once? ’Twere +a good lesson<br />If I did love you, sir; but, if I do not,<br />What +shall I say then?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>If you do not love me,<br />Say, none the less, you do, for on your +tongue<br />Falsehood for very shame would turn to truth.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What if I do not speak at all? They say<br />Lovers are happiest +when they are in doubt</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, doubt would kill me, and if I must die,<br />Why, let me die +for joy and not for doubt.<br />Oh, tell me may I stay, or must I go?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I would not have you either stay or go;<br />For if you stay you +steal my love from me,<br />And if you go you take my love away.<br />Guido, +though all the morning stars could sing<br />They could not tell the +measure of my love.<br />I love you, Guido.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[stretching out his hands]<br />Oh, do not cease at all;<br />I thought +the nightingale sang but at night;<br />Or if thou needst must cease, +then let my lips<br />Touch the sweet lips that can such music make.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>To touch my lips is not to touch my heart.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Do you close that against me?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas! my lord,<br />I have it not: the first day that I saw you<br />I +let you take my heart away from me;<br />Unwilling thief, that without +meaning it<br />Did break into my fenced treasury<br />And filch my +jewel from it! O strange theft,<br />Which made you richer though +you knew it not,<br />And left me poorer, and yet glad of it!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[clasping her in his arms]<br />O love, love, love! Nay, sweet, +lift up your head,<br />Let me unlock those little scarlet doors<br />That +shut in music, let me dive for coral<br />In your red lips, and I’ll +bear back a prize<br />Richer than all the gold the Gryphon guards<br />In +rude Armenia.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>You are my lord,<br />And what I have is yours, and what I have not<br />Your +fancy lends me, like a prodigal<br />Spending its wealth on what is +nothing worth.<br />[Kisses him.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Methinks I am bold to look upon you thus:<br />The gentle violet +hides beneath its leaf<br />And is afraid to look at the great sun<br />For +fear of too much splendour, but my eyes,<br />O daring eyes! are grown +so venturous<br />That like fixed stars they stand, gazing at you,<br />And +surfeit sense with beauty.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Dear love, I would<br />You could look upon me ever, for your eyes<br />Are +polished mirrors, and when I peer<br />Into those mirrors I can see +myself,<br />And so I know my image lives in you.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[taking her in his arms]<br />Stand still, thou hurrying orb in the +high heavens,<br />And make this hour immortal! [A pause.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Sit down here,<br />A little lower than me: yes, just so, sweet,<br />That +I may run my fingers through your hair,<br />And see your face turn +upwards like a flower<br />To meet my kiss.<br />Have you not sometimes +noted,<br />When we unlock some long-disuséd room<br />With heavy +dust and soiling mildew filled,<br />Where never foot of man has come +for years,<br />And from the windows take the rusty bar,<br />And fling +the broken shutters to the air,<br />And let the bright sun in, how +the good sun<br />Turns every grimy particle of dust<br />Into a little +thing of dancing gold?<br />Guido, my heart is that long-empty room,<br />But +you have let love in, and with its gold<br />Gilded all life. +Do you not think that love<br />Fills up the sum of life?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ay! without love<br />Life is no better than the unhewn stone<br />Which +in the quarry lies, before the sculptor<br />Has set the God within +it. Without love<br />Life is as silent as the common reeds<br />That +through the marshes or by rivers grow,<br />And have no music in them.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Yet out of these<br />The singer, who is Love, will make a pipe<br />And +from them he draws music; so I think<br />Love will bring music out +of any life.<br />Is that not true?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Sweet, women make it true.<br />There are men who paint pictures, +and carve statues,<br />Paul of Verona and the dyer’s son,<br />Or +their great rival, who, by the sea at Venice,<br />Has set God’s +little maid upon the stair,<br />White as her own white lily, and as +tall,<br />Or Raphael, whose Madonnas are divine<br />Because they are +mothers merely; yet I think<br />Women are the best artists of the world,<br />For +they can take the common lives of men<br />Soiled with the money-getting +of our age,<br />And with love make them beautiful.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ah, dear,<br />I wish that you and I were very poor;<br />The poor, +who love each other, are so rich.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Tell me again you love me, Beatrice.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[fingering his collar]<br />How well this collar lies about your +throat.<br />[LORD MORANZONE looks through the door from the corridor +outside.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, tell me that you love me.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I remember,<br />That when I was a child in my dear France,<br />Being +at Court at Fontainebleau, the King<br />Wore such a collar.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Will you not say you love me?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[smiling]<br />He was a very royal man, King Francis,<br />Yet he +was not royal as you are.<br />Why need I tell you, Guido, that I love +you?<br />[Takes his head in her hands and turns his face up to her.]<br />Do +you not know that I am yours for ever,<br />Body and soul?<br />[Kisses +him, and then suddenly catches sight of MORANZONE and leaps up.]<br />Oh, +what is that? [MORANZONE disappears.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What, love?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Methought I saw a face with eyes of flame<br />Look at us through +the doorway.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, ’twas nothing:<br />The passing shadow of the man on guard.<br />[The +DUCHESS still stands looking at the window.]<br />’Twas nothing, +sweet.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay! what can harm us now,<br />Who are in Love’s hand? +I do not think I’d care<br />Though the vile world should with +its lackey Slander<br />Trample and tread upon my life; why should I?<br />They +say the common field-flowers of the field<br />Have sweeter scent when +they are trodden on<br />Than when they bloom alone, and that some herbs<br />Which +have no perfume, on being bruiséd die<br />With all Arabia round +them; so it is<br />With the young lives this dull world seeks to crush,<br />It +does but bring the sweetness out of them,<br />And makes them lovelier +often. And besides,<br />While we have love we have the best of +life:<br />Is it not so?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Dear, shall we play or sing?<br />I think that I could sing now.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Do not speak,<br />For there are times when all existences<br />Seem +narrowed to one single ecstasy,<br />And Passion sets a seal upon the +lips.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, with mine own lips let me break that seal!<br />You love me, +Beatrice?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay! is it not strange<br />I should so love mine enemy?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Who is he?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Why, you: that with your shaft did pierce my heart!<br />Poor heart, +that lived its little lonely life<br />Until it met your arrow.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ah, dear love,<br />I am so wounded by that bolt myself<br />That +with untended wounds I lie a-dying,<br />Unless you cure me, dear Physician.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I would not have you cured; for I am sick<br />With the same malady.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, how I love you!<br />See, I must steal the cuckoo’s voice, +and tell<br />The one tale over.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Tell no other tale!<br />For, if that is the little cuckoo’s +song,<br />The nightingale is hoarse, and the loud lark<br />Has lost +its music.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Kiss me, Beatrice!<br />[She takes his face in her hands and bends +down and kisses him; a loud knocking then comes at the door, and GUIDO +leaps up; enter a Servant.]</p> +<p>SERVANT</p> +<p>A package for you, sir.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[carelessly] Ah! give it to me. [Servant hands package +wrapped in vermilion silk, and exit; as GUIDO is about to open it the +DUCHESS comes up behind, and in sport takes it from him.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[laughing]<br />Now I will wager it is from some girl<br />Who would +have you wear her favour; I am so jealous<br />I will not give up the +least part in you,<br />But like a miser keep you to myself,<br />And +spoil you perhaps in keeping.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It is nothing.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Nay, it is from some girl.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>You know ’tis not.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[turns her back and opens it]<br />Now, traitor, tell me what does +this sign mean,<br />A dagger with two leopards wrought in steel?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[taking it from her] O God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I’ll from the window look, and try<br />If I can’t see +the porter’s livery<br />Who left it at the gate! I will +not rest<br />Till I have learned your secret.<br />[Runs laughing into +the corridor.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, horrible!<br />Had I so soon forgot my father’s death,<br />Did +I so soon let love into my heart,<br />And must I banish love, and let +in murder<br />That beats and clamours at the outer gate?<br />Ay, that +I must! Have I not sworn an oath?<br />Yet not to-night; nay, +it must be to-night.<br />Farewell then all the joy and light of life,<br />All +dear recorded memories, farewell,<br />Farewell all love! Could +I with bloody hands<br />Fondle and paddle with her innocent hands?<br />Could +I with lips fresh from this butchery<br />Play with her lips? +Could I with murderous eyes<br />Look in those violet eyes, whose purity<br />Would +strike men blind, and make each eyeball reel<br />In night perpetual? +No, murder has set<br />A barrier between us far too high<br />For us +to kiss across it.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Guido!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Beatrice,<br />You must forget that name, and banish me<br />Out +of your life for ever.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[going towards him]<br />O dear love!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[stepping back]<br />There lies a barrier between us two<br />We +dare not pass.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I dare do anything<br />So that you are beside me.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ah! There it is,<br />I cannot be beside you, cannot breathe<br />The +air you breathe; I cannot any more<br />Stand face to face with beauty, +which unnerves<br />My shaking heart, and makes my desperate hand<br />Fail +of its purpose. Let me go hence, I pray;<br />Forget you ever +looked upon me.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What!<br />With your hot kisses fresh upon my lips<br />Forget the +vows of love you made to me?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I take them back.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas, you cannot, Guido,<br />For they are part of nature now; the +air<br />Is tremulous with their music, and outside<br />The little +birds sing sweeter for those vows.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>There lies a barrier between us now,<br />Which then I knew not, +or I had forgot.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>There is no barrier, Guido; why, I will go<br />In poor attire, and +will follow you<br />Over the world.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[wildly]<br />The world’s not wide enough<br />To hold us two! +Farewell, farewell for ever.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[calm, and controlling her passion]<br />Why did you come into my +life at all, then,<br />Or in the desolate garden of my heart<br />Sow +that white flower of love -?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O Beatrice!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Which now you would dig up, uproot, tear out,<br />Though each small +fibre doth so hold my heart<br />That if you break one, my heart breaks +with it?<br />Why did you come into my life? Why open<br />The +secret wells of love I had sealed up?<br />Why did you open them -?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[clenching her hand]<br />And let<br />The floodgates of my passion +swell and burst<br />Till, like the wave when rivers overflow<br />That +sweeps the forest and the farm away,<br />Love in the splendid avalanche +of its might<br />Swept my life with it? Must I drop by drop<br />Gather +these waters back and seal them up?<br />Alas! Each drop will +be a tear, and so<br />Will with its saltness make life very bitter.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I pray you speak no more, for I must go<br />Forth from your life +and love, and make a way<br />On which you cannot follow.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I have heard<br />That sailors dying of thirst upon a raft,<br />Poor +castaways upon a lonely sea,<br />Dream of green fields and pleasant +water-courses,<br />And then wake up with red thirst in their throats,<br />And +die more miserably because sleep<br />Has cheated them: so they die +cursing sleep<br />For having sent them dreams: I will not curse you<br />Though +I am cast away upon the sea<br />Which men call Desolation.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God, God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>But you will stay: listen, I love you, Guido.<br />[She waits a little.]<br />Is +echo dead, that when I say I love you<br />There is no answer?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Everything is dead,<br />Save one thing only, which shall die to-night!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>If you are going, touch me not, but go.<br />[Exit GUIDO.]<br />Barrier! +Barrier!<br />Why did he say there was a barrier?<br />There is no barrier +between us two.<br />He lied to me, and shall I for that reason<br />Loathe +what I love, and what I worshipped, hate?<br />I think we women do not +love like that.<br />For if I cut his image from my heart,<br />My heart +would, like a bleeding pilgrim, follow<br />That image through the world, +and call it back<br />With little cries of love.<br />[Enter DUKE equipped +for the chase, with falconers and hounds.]</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>Madam, you keep us waiting;<br />You keep my dogs waiting.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I will not ride to-day.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>How now, what’s this?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>My Lord, I cannot go.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>What, pale face, do you dare to stand against me?<br />Why, I could +set you on a sorry jade<br />And lead you through the town, till the +low rabble<br />You feed toss up their hats and mock at you.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Have you no word of kindness ever for me?</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>I hold you in the hollow of my hand<br />And have no need on you +to waste kind words.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Well, I will go.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>[slapping his boot with his whip]<br />No, I have changed my mind,<br />You +will stay here, and like a faithful wife<br />Watch from the window +for our coming back.<br />Were it not dreadful if some accident<br />By +chance should happen to your loving Lord?<br />Come, gentlemen, my hounds +begin to chafe,<br />And I chafe too, having a patient wife.<br />Where +is young Guido?</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>My liege, I have not seen him<br />For a full hour past.</p> +<p>DUKE</p> +<p>It matters not,<br />I dare say I shall see him soon enough.<br />Well, +Madam, you will sit at home and spin.<br />I do protest, sirs, the domestic +virtues<br />Are often very beautiful in others.</p> +<p>[Exit DUKE with his Court.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>The stars have fought against me, that is all,<br />And thus to-night +when my Lord lieth asleep,<br />Will I fall upon my dagger, and so cease.<br />My +heart is such a stone nothing can reach it<br />Except the dagger’s +edge: let it go there,<br />To find what name it carries: ay! to-night<br />Death +will divorce the Duke; and yet to-night<br />He may die also, he is +very old.<br />Why should he not die? Yesterday his hand<br />Shook +with a palsy: men have died from palsy,<br />And why not he? Are +there not fevers also,<br />Agues and chills, and other maladies<br />Most +incident to old age?<br />No, no, he will not die, he is too sinful;<br />Honest +men die before their proper time.<br />Good men will die: men by whose +side the Duke<br />In all the sick pollution of his life<br />Seems +like a leper: women and children die,<br />But the Duke will not die, +he is too sinful.<br />Oh, can it be<br />There is some immortality +in sin,<br />Which virtue has not? And does the wicked man<br />Draw +life from what to other men were death,<br />Like poisonous plants that +on corruption live?<br />No, no, I think God would not suffer that:<br />Yet +the Duke will not die: he is too sinful.<br />But I will die alone, +and on this night<br />Grim Death shall be my bridegroom, and the tomb<br />My +secret house of pleasure: well, what of that?<br />The world’s +a graveyard, and we each, like coffins,<br />Within us bear a skeleton.<br />[Enter +LORD MORANZONE all in black; he passes across the back of the stage +looking anxiously about.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Where is Guido?<br />I cannot find him anywhere.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[catches sight of him] O God!<br />’Twas thou who took +my love away from me.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[with a look of joy]<br />What, has he left you?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Nay, you know he has.<br />Oh, give him back to me, give him back, +I say,<br />Or I will tear your body limb from limb,<br />And to the +common gibbet nail your head<br />Until the carrion crows have stripped +it bare.<br />Better you had crossed a hungry lioness<br />Before you +came between me and my love.<br />[With more pathos.]<br />Nay, give +him back, you know not how I love him.<br />Here by this chair he knelt +a half hour since;<br />’Twas there he stood, and there he looked +at me;<br />This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears<br />Into +whose open portals he did pour<br />A tale of love so musical that all<br />The +birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>He does not love you, Madam.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>May the plague<br />Wither the tongue that says so! Give him +back.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Madam, I tell you you will never see him,<br />Neither to-night, +nor any other night.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What is your name?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>My name? Revenge!<br />[Exit.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Revenge!<br />I think I never harmed a little child.<br />What should +Revenge do coming to my door?<br />It matters not, for Death is there +already,<br />Waiting with his dim torch to light my way.<br />’Tis +true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think<br />Thou wilt be kinder +to me than my lover,<br />And so dispatch the messengers at once,<br />Harry +the lazy steeds of lingering day,<br />And let the night, thy sister, +come instead,<br />And drape the world in mourning; let the owl,<br />Who +is thy minister, scream from his tower<br />And wake the toad with hooting, +and the bat,<br />That is the slave of dim Persephone,<br />Wheel through +the sombre air on wandering wing!<br />Tear up the shrieking mandrakes +from the earth<br />And bid them make us music, and tell the mole<br />To +dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed,<br />For I shall lie within thine +arms to-night.</p> +<p>END OF ACT II.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ACT III</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>SCENE</p> +<p>A large corridor in the Ducal Palace: a window (L.C.) looks out on +a view of Padua by moonlight: a staircase (R.C.) leads up to a door +with a portière of crimson velvet, with the Duke’s arms +embroidered in gold on it: on the lowest step of the staircase a figure +draped in black is sitting: the hall is lit by an iron cresset filled +with burning tow: thunder and lightning outside: the time is night.</p> +<p>[Enter GUIDO through the window.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>The wind is rising: how my ladder shook!<br />I thought that every +gust would break the cords!<br />[Looks out at the city.]<br />Christ! +What a night:<br />Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings<br />Striking +from pinnacle to pinnacle<br />Across the city, till the dim houses +seem<br />To shudder and to shake as each new glare<br />Dashes adown +the street.<br />[Passes across the stage to foot of staircase.]<br />Ah! +who art thou<br />That sittest on the stair, like unto Death<br />Waiting +a guilty soul? [A pause.]<br />Canst thou not speak?<br />Or has +this storm laid palsy on thy tongue,<br />And chilled thy utterance?<br />[The +figure rises and takes off his mask.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti,<br />Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[confusedly]<br />What, art thou here?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay, waiting for your coming.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[looking away from him]<br />I did not think to see you, but am glad,<br />That +you may know the thing I mean to do.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>First, I would have you know my well-laid plans;<br />Listen: I have +set horses at the gate<br />Which leads to Parma: when you have done +your business<br />We will ride hence, and by to-morrow night -</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It cannot be.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Nay, but it shall.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Listen, Lord Moranzone,<br />I am resolved not to kill this man.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Surely my ears are traitors, speak again:<br />It cannot be but age +has dulled my powers,<br />I am an old man now: what did you say?<br />You +said that with that dagger in your belt<br />You would avenge your father’s +bloody murder;<br />Did you not say that?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No, my lord, I said<br />I was resolved not to kill the Duke.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>You said not that; it is my senses mock me;<br />Or else this midnight +air o’ercharged with storm<br />Alters your message in the giving +it.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, you heard rightly; I’ll not kill this man.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What of thine oath, thou traitor, what of thine oath?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I am resolved not to keep that oath.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What of thy murdered father?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Dost thou think<br />My father would be glad to see me coming,<br />This +old man’s blood still hot upon mine hands?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ay! he would laugh for joy.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I do not think so,<br />There is better knowledge in the other world;<br />Vengeance +is God’s, let God himself revenge.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Thou art God’s minister of vengeance.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No!<br />God hath no minister but his own hand.<br />I will not kill +this man.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Why are you here,<br />If not to kill him, then?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Lord Moranzone,<br />I purpose to ascend to the Duke’s chamber,<br />And +as he lies asleep lay on his breast<br />The dagger and this writing; +when he awakes<br />Then he will know who held him in his power<br />And +slew him not: this is the noblest vengeance<br />Which I can take.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>You will not slay him?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Ignoble son of a noble father,<br />Who sufferest this man who sold +that father<br />To live an hour.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>’Twas thou that hindered me;<br />I would have killed him in +the open square,<br />The day I saw him first.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>It was not yet time;<br />Now it is time, and, like some green-faced +girl,<br />Thou pratest of forgiveness.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No! revenge:<br />The right revenge my father’s son should +take.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>You are a coward,<br />Take out the knife, get to the Duke’s +chamber,<br />And bring me back his heart upon the blade.<br />When +he is dead, then you can talk to me<br />Of noble vengeances.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Upon thine honour,<br />And by the love thou bearest my father’s +name,<br />Dost thou think my father, that great gentleman,<br />That +generous soldier, that most chivalrous lord,<br />Would have crept at +night-time, like a common thief,<br />And stabbed an old man sleeping +in his bed,<br />However he had wronged him: tell me that.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[after some hesitation]<br />You have sworn an oath, see that you +keep that oath.<br />Boy, do you think I do not know your secret,<br />Your +traffic with the Duchess?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Silence, liar!<br />The very moon in heaven is not more chaste.<br />Nor +the white stars so pure.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>And yet, you love her;<br />Weak fool, to let love in upon your life,<br />Save +as a plaything.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>You do well to talk:<br />Within your veins, old man, the pulse of +youth<br />Throbs with no ardour. Your eyes full of rheum<br />Have +against Beauty closed their filmy doors,<br />And your clogged ears, +losing their natural sense,<br />Have shut you from the music of the +world.<br />You talk of love! You know not what it is.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Oh, in my time, boy, have I walked i’ the moon,<br />Swore +I would live on kisses and on blisses,<br />Swore I would die for love, +and did not die,<br />Wrote love bad verses; ay, and sung them badly,<br />Like +all true lovers: Oh, I have done the tricks!<br />I know the partings +and the chamberings;<br />We are all animals at best, and love<br />Is +merely passion with a holy name.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Now then I know you have not loved at all.<br />Love is the sacrament +of life; it sets<br />Virtue where virtue was not; cleanses men<br />Of +all the vile pollutions of this world;<br />It is the fire which purges +gold from dross,<br />It is the fan which winnows wheat from chaff,<br />It +is the spring which in some wintry soil<br />Makes innocence to blossom +like a rose.<br />The days are over when God walked with men,<br />But +Love, which is his image, holds his place.<br />When a man loves a woman, +then he knows<br />God’s secret, and the secret of the world.<br />There +is no house so lowly or so mean,<br />Which, if their hearts be pure +who live in it,<br />Love will not enter; but if bloody murder<br />Knock +at the Palace gate and is let in,<br />Love like a wounded thing creeps +out and dies.<br />This is the punishment God sets on sin.<br />The +wicked cannot love.<br />[A groan comes from the DUKE’s chamber.]<br />Ah! +What is that?<br />Do you not hear? ’Twas nothing.<br />So +I think<br />That it is woman’s mission by their love<br />To +save the souls of men: and loving her,<br />My Lady, my white Beatrice, +I begin<br />To see a nobler and a holier vengeance<br />In letting +this man live, than doth reside<br />In bloody deeds o’ night, +stabs in the dark,<br />And young hands clutching at a palsied throat.<br />It +was, I think, for love’s sake that Lord Christ,<br />Who was indeed +himself incarnate Love,<br />Bade every man forgive his enemy.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[sneeringly]<br />That was in Palestine, not Padua;<br />And said +for saints: I have to do with men.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It was for all time said.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>And your white Duchess,<br />What will she do to thank you?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Alas, I will not see her face again.<br />’Tis but twelve hours +since I parted from her,<br />So suddenly, and with such violent passion,<br />That +she has shut her heart against me now:<br />No, I will never see her.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What will you do?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>After that I have laid the dagger there,<br />Get hence to-night +from Padua.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>And then?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I will take service with the Doge at Venice,<br />And bid him pack +me straightway to the wars,<br />And there I will, being now sick of +life,<br />Throw that poor life against some desperate spear.<br />[A +groan from the DUKE’S chamber again.]<br />Did you not hear a +voice?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I always hear,<br />From the dim confines of some sepulchre,<br />A +voice that cries for vengeance. We waste time,<br />It will be +morning soon; are you resolved<br />You will not kill the Duke?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I am resolved.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>O wretched father, lying unavenged.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>More wretched, were thy son a murderer.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Why, what is life?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I do not know, my lord,<br />I did not give it, and I dare not take +it.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I do not thank God often; but I think<br />I thank him now that I +have got no son!<br />And you, what bastard blood flows in your veins<br />That +when you have your enemy in your grasp<br />You let him go! I +would that I had left you<br />With the dull hinds that reared you.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Better perhaps<br />That you had done so! May be better still<br />I’d +not been born to this distressful world.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Farewell!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Farewell! Some day, Lord Moranzone,<br />You will understand +my vengeance.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Never, boy.<br />[Gets out of window and exit by rope ladder.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Father, I think thou knowest my resolve,<br />And with this nobler +vengeance art content.<br />Father, I think in letting this man live<br />That +I am doing what thou wouldst have done.<br />Father, I know not if a +human voice<br />Can pierce the iron gateway of the dead,<br />Or if +the dead are set in ignorance<br />Of what we do, or do not, for their +sakes.<br />And yet I feel a presence in the air,<br />There is a shadow +standing at my side,<br />And ghostly kisses seem to touch my lips,<br />And +leave them holier. [Kneels down.]<br />O father, if ’tis +thou,<br />Canst thou not burst through the decrees of death,<br />And +if corporeal semblance show thyself,<br />That I may touch thy hand!<br />No, +there is nothing. [Rises.]<br />’Tis the night that cheats +us with its phantoms,<br />And, like a puppet-master, makes us think<br />That +things are real which are not. It grows late.<br />Now must I +to my business.<br />[Pulls out a letter from his doublet and reads +it.]<br />When he wakes,<br />And sees this letter, and the dagger with +it,<br />Will he not have some loathing for his life,<br />Repent, perchance, +and lead a better life,<br />Or will he mock because a young man spared<br />His +natural enemy? I do not care.<br />Father, it is thy bidding that +I do,<br />Thy bidding, and the bidding of my love<br />Which teaches +me to know thee as thou art.<br />[Ascends staircase stealthily, and +just as he reaches out his hand to draw back the curtain the Duchess +appears all in white. GUIDO starts back.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Guido! what do you here so late?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O white and spotless angel of my life,<br />Sure thou hast come from +Heaven with a message<br />That mercy is more noble than revenge?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>There is no barrier between us now.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>None, love, nor shall be.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I have seen to that.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Tarry here for me.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, you are not going?<br />You will not leave me as you did before?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I will return within a moment’s space,<br />But first I must +repair to the Duke’s chamber,<br />And leave this letter and this +dagger there,<br />That when he wakes -</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>When who wakes?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Why, the Duke.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>He will not wake again.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What, is he dead?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay! he is dead.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God! how wonderful<br />Are all thy secret ways! Who would +have said<br />That on this very night, when I had yielded<br />Into +thy hands the vengeance that is thine,<br />Thou with thy finger wouldst +have touched the man,<br />And bade him come before thy judgment seat.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I have just killed him.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[in horror] Oh!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>He was asleep;<br />Come closer, love, and I will tell you all.<br />I +had resolved to kill myself to-night.<br />About an hour ago I waked +from sleep,<br />And took my dagger from beneath my pillow,<br />Where +I had hidden it to serve my need,<br />And drew it from the sheath, +and felt the edge,<br />And thought of you, and how I loved you, Guido,<br />And +turned to fall upon it, when I marked<br />The old man sleeping, full +of years and sin;<br />There lay he muttering curses in his sleep,<br />And +as I looked upon his evil face<br />Suddenly like a flame there flashed +across me,<br />There is the barrier which Guido spoke of:<br />You +said there lay a barrier between us,<br />What barrier but he? -<br />I +hardly know<br />What happened, but a steaming mist of blood<br />Rose +up between us two.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Oh, horrible!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And then he groaned,<br />And then he groaned no more! I only +heard<br />The dripping of the blood upon the floor.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Enough, enough.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Will you not kiss me now?<br />Do you remember saying that women’s +love<br />Turns men to angels? well, the love of man<br />Turns women +into martyrs; for its sake<br />We do or suffer anything.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Will you not speak?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I cannot speak at all.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Let as not talk of this! Let us go hence:<br />Is not the barrier +broken down between us?<br />What would you more? Come, it is +almost morning.<br />[Puts her hand on GUIDO’S.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[breaking from her]<br />O damned saint! O angel fresh from +Hell!<br />What bloody devil tempted thee to this!<br />That thou hast +killed thy husband, that is nothing -<br />Hell was already gaping for +his soul -<br />But thou hast murdered Love, and in its place<br />Hast +set a horrible and bloodstained thing,<br />Whose very breath breeds +pestilence and plague,<br />And strangles Love.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[in amazed wonder]<br />I did it all for you.<br />I would not have +you do it, had you willed it,<br />For I would keep you without blot +or stain,<br />A thing unblemished, unassailed, untarnished.<br />Men +do not know what women do for love.<br />Have I not wrecked my soul +for your dear sake,<br />Here and hereafter?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No, do not touch me,<br />Between us lies a thin red stream of blood;<br />I +dare not look across it: when you stabbed him<br />You stabbed Love +with a sharp knife to the heart.<br />We cannot meet again.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[wringing her hands]<br />For you! For you!<br />I did it all +for you: have you forgotten?<br />You said there was a barrier between +us;<br />That barrier lies now i’ the upper chamber<br />Upset, +overthrown, beaten, and battered down,<br />And will not part us ever.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>No, you mistook:<br />Sin was the barrier, you have raised it up;<br />Crime +was the barrier, you have set it there.<br />The barrier was murder, +and your hand<br />Has builded it so high it shuts out heaven,<br />It +shuts out God.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I did it all for you;<br />You dare not leave me now: nay, Guido, +listen.<br />Get horses ready, we will fly to-night.<br />The past is +a bad dream, we will forget it:<br />Before us lies the future: shall +we not have<br />Sweet days of love beneath our vines and laugh? -<br />No, +no, we will not laugh, but, when we weep,<br />Well, we will weep together; +I will serve you;<br />I will be very meek and very gentle:<br />You +do not know me.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, I know you now;<br />Get hence, I say, out of my sight.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[pacing up and down]<br />O God,<br />How I have loved this man!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>You never loved me.<br />Had it been so, Love would have stayed your +hand.<br />How could we sit together at Love’s table?<br />You +have poured poison in the sacred wine,<br />And Murder dips his fingers +in the sop.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[throws herself on her knees]<br />Then slay me now! I have +spilt blood to-night,<br />You shall spill more, so we go hand in hand<br />To +heaven or to hell. Draw your sword, Guido.<br />Quick, let your +soul go chambering in my heart,<br />It will but find its master’s +image there.<br />Nay, if you will not slay me with your sword,<br />Bid +me to fall upon this reeking knife,<br />And I will do it.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[wresting knife from her]<br />Give it to me, I say.<br />O God, +your very hands are wet with blood!<br />This place is Hell, I cannot +tarry here.<br />I pray you let me see your face no more.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Better for me I had not seen your face.<br />[GUIDO recoils: she +seizes his hands as she kneels.]<br />Nay, Guido, listen for a while:<br />Until +you came to Padua I lived<br />Wretched indeed, but with no murderous +thought,<br />Very submissive to a cruel Lord,<br />Very obedient to +unjust commands,</p> +<p>As pure I think as any gentle girl<br />Who now would turn in horror +from my hands -<br />[Stands up.]<br />You came: ah! Guido, the +first kindly words<br />I ever heard since I had come from France<br />Were +from your lips: well, well, that is no matter.<br />You came, and in +the passion of your eyes<br />I read love’s meaning; everything +you said<br />Touched my dumb soul to music, so I loved you.<br />And +yet I did not tell you of my love.<br />’Twas you who sought me +out, knelt at my feet<br />As I kneel now at yours, and with sweet vows,<br />[Kneels.]<br />Whose +music seems to linger in my ears,<br />Swore that you loved me, and +I trusted you.<br />I think there are many women in the world<br />Who +would have tempted you to kill the man.<br />I did not.<br />Yet I know +that had I done so,<br />I had not been thus humbled in the dust,<br />[Stands +up.]<br />But you had loved me very faithfully.<br />[After a pause +approaches him timidly.]<br />I do not think you understand me, Guido:<br />It +was for your sake that I wrought this deed<br />Whose horror now chills +my young blood to ice,<br />For your sake only. [Stretching out +her arm.]<br />Will you not speak to me?<br />Love me a little: in my +girlish life<br />I have been starved for love, and kindliness<br />Has +passed me by.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I dare not look at you:<br />You come to me with too pronounced a +favour;<br />Get to your tirewomen.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay, there it is!<br />There speaks the man! yet had you come to me<br />With +any heavy sin upon your soul,<br />Some murder done for hire, not for +love,<br />Why, I had sat and watched at your bedside<br />All through +the night-time, lest Remorse might come<br />And pour his poisons in +your ear, and so<br />Keep you from sleeping! Sure it is the guilty,<br />Who, +being very wretched, need love most.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>There is no love where there is any guilt.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No love where there is any guilt! O God,<br />How differently +do we love from men!<br />There is many a woman here in Padua,<br />Some +workman’s wife, or ruder artisan’s,<br />Whose husband spends +the wages of the week<br />In a coarse revel, or a tavern brawl,<br />And +reeling home late on the Saturday night,<br />Finds his wife sitting +by a fireless hearth,<br />Trying to hush the child who cries for hunger,<br />And +then sets to and beats his wife because<br />The child is hungry, and +the fire black.<br />Yet the wife loves him! and will rise next day<br />With +some red bruise across a careworn face,<br />And sweep the house, and +do the common service,<br />And try and smile, and only be too glad<br />If +he does not beat her a second time<br />Before her child! - that is +how women love.<br />[A pause: GUIDO says nothing.]<br />I think you +will not drive me from your side.<br />Where have I got to go if you +reject me? -<br />You for whose sake this hand has murdered life,<br />You +for whose sake my soul has wrecked itself<br />Beyond all hope of pardon.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Get thee gone:<br />The dead man is a ghost, and our love too,<br />Flits +like a ghost about its desolate tomb,<br />And wanders through this +charnel house, and weeps<br />That when you slew your lord you slew +it also.<br />Do you not see?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I see when men love women<br />They give them but a little of their +lives,<br />But women when they love give everything;<br />I see that, +Guido, now.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Away, away,<br />And come not back till you have waked your dead.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I would to God that I could wake the dead,<br />Put vision in the +glazéd eves, and give<br />The tongue its natural utterance, +and bid<br />The heart to beat again: that cannot be:<br />For what +is done, is done: and what is dead<br />Is dead for ever: the fire cannot +warm him:<br />The winter cannot hurt him with its snows;<br />Something +has gone from him; if you call him now,<br />He will not answer; if +you mock him now,<br />He will not laugh; and if you stab him now<br />He +will not bleed.<br />I would that I could wake him!<br />O God, put +back the sun a little space,<br />And from the roll of time blot out +to-night,<br />And bid it not have been! Put back the sun,<br />And +make me what I was an hour ago!<br />No, no, time will not stop for +anything,<br />Nor the sun stay its courses, though Repentance<br />Calling +it back grow hoarse; but you, my love,<br />Have you no word of pity +even for me?<br />O Guido, Guido, will you not kiss me once?<br />Drive +me not to some desperate resolve:<br />Women grow mad when they are +treated thus:<br />Will you not kiss me once?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[holding up knife]<br />I will not kiss you<br />Until the blood +grows dry upon this knife,<br />[Wildly] Back to your dead!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[going up the stairs]<br />Why, then I will be gone! and may you +find<br />More mercy than you showed to me to-night!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Let me find mercy when I go at night<br />And do foul murder.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[coming down a few steps.]<br />Murder did you say?<br />Murder is +hungry, and still cries for more,<br />And Death, his brother, is not +satisfied,<br />But walks the house, and will not go away,<br />Unless +he has a comrade! Tarry, Death,<br />For I will give thee a most +faithful lackey<br />To travel with thee! Murder, call no more,<br />For +thou shalt eat thy fill.<br />There is a storm<br />Will break upon +this house before the morning,<br />So horrible, that the white moon +already<br />Turns grey and sick with terror, the low wind<br />Goes +moaning round the house, and the high stars<br />Run madly through the +vaulted firmament,<br />As though the night wept tears of liquid fire<br />For +what the day shall look upon. Oh, weep,<br />Thou lamentable heaven! +Weep thy fill!<br />Though sorrow like a cataract drench the fields,<br />And +make the earth one bitter lake of tears,<br />It would not be enough. +[A peal of thunder.]<br />Do you not hear,<br />There is artillery in +the Heaven to-night.<br />Vengeance is wakened up, and has unloosed<br />His +dogs upon the world, and in this matter<br />Which lies between us two, +let him who draws<br />The thunder on his head beware the ruin<br />Which +the forked flame brings after.<br />[A flash of lightning followed by +a peal of thunder.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Away! away!<br />[Exit the DUCHESS, who as she lifts the crimson +curtain looks back for a moment at GUIDO, but he makes no sign. +More thunder.]<br />Now is life fallen in ashes at my feet<br />And +noble love self-slain; and in its place<br />Crept murder with its silent +bloody feet.<br />And she who wrought it - Oh! and yet she loved me,<br />And +for my sake did do this dreadful thing.<br />I have been cruel to her: +Beatrice!<br />Beatrice, I say, come back.<br />[Begins to ascend staircase, +when the noise of Soldiers is heard.]<br />Ah! what is that?<br />Torches +ablaze, and noise of hurrying feet.<br />Pray God they have not seized +her.<br />[Noise grows louder.]<br />Beatrice!<br />There is yet time +to escape. Come down, come out!<br />[The voice of the DUCHESS +outside.]<br />This way went he, the man who slew my lord.<br />[Down +the staircase comes hurrying a confused body of Soldiers; GUIDO is not +seen at first, till the DUCHESS surrounded by Servants carrying torches +appears at the top of the staircase, and points to GUIDO, who is seized +at once, one of the Soldiers dragging the knife from his hand and showing +it to the Captain of the Guard in sight of the audience. Tableau.]</p> +<p>END OF ACT III.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ACT IV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>SCENE</p> +<p>The Court of Justice: the walls are hung with stamped grey velvet: +above the hangings the wall is red, and gilt symbolical figures bear +up the roof, which is made of red beams with grey soffits and moulding: +a canopy of white satin flowered with gold is set for the Duchess: below +it a long bench with red cloth for the Judges: below that a table for +the clerks of the court. Two soldiers stand on each side of the +canopy, and two soldiers guard the door; the citizens have some of them +collected in the Court; others are coming in greeting one another; two +tipstaffs in violet keep order with long white wands.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Good morrow, neighbour Anthony.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Good morrow, neighbour Dominick.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>This is a strange day for Padua, is it not? - the Duke being dead.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>I tell you, neighbour Dominick, I have not known such a day since +the last Duke died.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>They will try him first, and sentence him afterwards, will they not, +neighbour Anthony?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Nay, for he might ’scape his punishment then; but they will +condemn him first so that he gets his deserts, and give him trial afterwards +so that no injustice is done.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Well, well, it will go hard with him I doubt not.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Surely it is a grievous thing to shed a Duke’s blood.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>They say a Duke has blue blood.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>I think our Duke’s blood was black like his soul.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Have a watch, neighbour Anthony, the officer is looking at thee.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>I care not if he does but look at me; he cannot whip me with the +lashes of his eye.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>What think you of this young man who stuck the knife into the Duke?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, that he is a well-behaved, and a well-meaning, and a well-favoured +lad, and yet wicked in that he killed the Duke.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>’Twas the first time he did it: may be the law will not be +hard on him, as he did not do it before.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>True.</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Silence, knave.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Am I thy looking-glass, Master Tipstaff, that thou callest me knave?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Here be one of the household coming. Well, Dame Lucy, thou +art of the Court, how does thy poor mistress the Duchess, with her sweet +face?</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>O well-a-day! O miserable day! O day! O misery! +Why it is just nineteen years last June, at Michaelmas, since I was +married to my husband, and it is August now, and here is the Duke murdered; +there is a coincidence for you!</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, if it is a coincidence, they may not kill the young man: there +is no law against coincidences.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>But how does the Duchess?</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>Well well, I knew some harm would happen to the house: six weeks +ago the cakes were all burned on one side, and last Saint Martin even +as ever was, there flew into the candle a big moth that had wings, and +a’most scared me.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>But come to the Duchess, good gossip: what of her?</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>Marry, it is time you should ask after her, poor lady; she is distraught +almost. Why, she has not slept, but paced the chamber all night +long. I prayed her to have a posset, or some aqua-vitae, and to +get to bed and sleep a little for her health’s sake, but she answered +me she was afraid she might dream. That was a strange answer, +was it not?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>These great folk have not much sense, so Providence makes it up to +them in fine clothes.</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>Well, well, God keep murder from us, I say, as long as we are alive.</p> +<p>[Enter LORD MORANZONE hurriedly.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Is the Duke dead?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>He has a knife in his heart, which they say is not healthy for any +man.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Who is accused of having killed him?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, the prisoner, sir.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>But who is the prisoner?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, he that is accused of the Duke’s murder.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I mean, what is his name?</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Faith, the same which his godfathers gave him: what else should it +be?</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti is his name, my lord.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>I almost knew thine answer ere you gave it.<br />[Aside.]<br />Yet +it is strange he should have killed the Duke,<br />Seeing he left me +in such different mood.<br />It is most likely when he saw the man,<br />This +devil who had sold his father’s life,<br />That passion from their +seat within his heart<br />Thrust all his boyish theories of love,<br />And +in their place set vengeance; yet I marvel<br />That he escaped not.<br />[Turning +again to the crowd.]<br />How was he taken? Tell me.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Marry, sir, he was taken by the heels.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>But who seized him?</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, those that did lay hold of him.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>How was the alarm given?</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>That I cannot tell you, sir.</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>It was the Duchess herself who pointed him out.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[aside]<br />The Duchess! There is something strange in this.</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>Ay! And the dagger was in his hand - the Duchess’s own dagger.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>What did you say?</p> +<p>MISTRESS LUCY</p> +<p>Why, marry, that it was with the Duchess’s dagger that the +Duke was killed.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[aside]<br />There is some mystery about this: I cannot understand +it.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>They be very long a-coming,</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>I warrant they will come soon enough for the prisoner.</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Silence in the Court!</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Thou dost break silence in bidding us keep it, Master Tipstaff.<br />[Enter +the LORD JUSTICE and the other Judges.]</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Who is he in scarlet? Is he the headsman?</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Nay, he is the Lord Justice.<br />[Enter GUIDO guarded.]</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>There be the prisoner surely.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>He looks honest.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>That be his villany: knaves nowadays do look so honest that honest +folk are forced to look like knaves so as to be different.<br />[Enter +the Headman, who takes his stand behind GUIDO.]</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Yon be the headsman then! O Lord! Is the axe sharp, think +you?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Ay! sharper than thy wits are; but the edge is not towards him, mark +you.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>[scratching his neck]<br />I’ faith, I like it not so near.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Tut, thou need’st not be afraid; they never cut the heads of +common folk: they do but hang us.<br />[Trumpets outside.]</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>What are the trumpets for? Is the trial over?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Nay, ’tis for the Duchess.<br />[Enter the DUCHESS in black +velvet; her train of flowered black velvet is carried by two pages in +violet; with her is the CARDINAL in scarlet, and the gentlemen of the +Court in black; she takes her seat on the throne above the Judges, who +rise and take their caps off as she enters; the CARDINAL sits next to +her a little lower; the Courtiers group themselves about the throne.]</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>O poor lady, how pale she is! Will she sit there?</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Ay! she is in the Duke’s place now.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>That is a good thing for Padua; the Duchess is a very kind and merciful +Duchess; why, she cured my child of the ague once.</p> +<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p> +<p>Ay, and has given us bread: do not forget the bread.</p> +<p>A SOLDIER</p> +<p>Stand back, good people.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>If we be good, why should we stand back?</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Silence in the Court!</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>May it please your Grace,<br />Is it your pleasure we proceed to +trial<br />Of the Duke’s murder? [DUCHESS bows.]<br />Set +the prisoner forth.<br />What is thy name?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It matters not, my lord.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Guido Ferranti is thy name in Padua.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>A man may die as well under that name as any other.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Thou art not ignorant<br />What dreadful charge men lay against thee +here,<br />Namely, the treacherous murder of thy Lord,<br />Simone Gesso, +Duke of Padua;<br />What dost thou say in answer?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I say nothing.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>[rising]<br />Guido Ferranti -</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[stepping from the crowd]<br />Tarry, my Lord Justice.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Who art thou that bid’st justice tarry, sir?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>So be it justice it can go its way;<br />But if it be not justice +-</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Who is this?</p> +<p>COUNT BARDI</p> +<p>A very noble gentleman, and well known<br />To the late Duke.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Sir, thou art come in time<br />To see the murder of the Duke avenged.<br />There +stands the man who did this heinous thing.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>My lord,<br />I ask again what proof have ye?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>[holding up the dagger]<br />This dagger,<br />Which from his blood-stained +hands, itself all blood,<br />Last night the soldiers seized: what further +proof<br />Need we indeed?</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[takes the danger and approaches the DUCHESS]<br />Saw I not such +a dagger<br />Hang from your Grace’s girdle yesterday?<br />[The +DUCHESS shudders and makes no answer.]<br />Ah! my Lord Justice, may +I speak a moment<br />With this young man, who in such peril stands?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Ay, willingly, my lord, and may you turn him<br />To make a full +avowal of his guilt.<br />[LORD MORANZONE goes over to GUIDO, who stands +R. and clutches him by the hand.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>[in a low voice]<br />She did it! Nay, I saw it in her eyes.<br />Boy, +dost thou think I’ll let thy father’s son<br />Be by this +woman butchered to his death?<br />Her husband sold your father, and +the wife<br />Would sell the son in turn.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Lord Moranzone,<br />I alone did this thing: be satisfied,<br />My +father is avenged.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Doth he confess?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>My lord, I do confess<br />That foul unnatural murder has been done.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>Why, look at that: he has a pitiful heart, and does not like murder; +they will let him go for that.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Say you no more?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>My lord, I say this also,<br />That to spill human blood is deadly +sin.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>Marry, he should tell that to the headsman: ’tis a good sentiment.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Lastly, my lord, I do entreat the Court<br />To give me leave to +utter openly<br />The dreadful secret of this mystery,<br />And to point +out the very guilty one<br />Who with this dagger last night slew the +Duke.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Thou hast leave to speak.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[rising]<br />I say he shall not speak:<br />What need have we of +further evidence?<br />Was he not taken in the house at night<br />In +Guilt’s own bloody livery?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>[showing her the statute]<br />Your Grace<br />Can read the law.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[waiving book aside]<br />Bethink you, my Lord Justice,<br />Is it +not very like that such a one<br />May, in the presence of the people +here,<br />Utter some slanderous word against my Lord,<br />Against +the city, or the city’s honour,<br />Perchance against myself.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>My liege, the law.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>He shall not speak, but, with gags in his mouth,<br />Shall climb +the ladder to the bloody block.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>The law, my liege.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>We are not bound by law,<br />But with it we bind others.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>My Lord Justice,<br />Thou wilt not suffer this injustice here.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>The Court needs not thy voice, Lord Moranzone.<br />Madam, it were +a precedent most evil<br />To wrest the law from its appointed course,<br />For, +though the cause be just, yet anarchy<br />Might on this licence touch +these golden scales<br />And unjust causes unjust victories gain.</p> +<p>COUNT BARDI</p> +<p>I do not think your Grace can stay the law.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay, it is well to preach and prate of law:<br />Methinks, my haughty +lords of Padua,<br />If ye are hurt in pocket or estate,<br />So much +as makes your monstrous revenues<br />Less by the value of one ferry +toll,<br />Ye do not wait the tedious law’s delay<br />With such +sweet patience as ye counsel me.</p> +<p>COUNT BARDI</p> +<p>Madam, I think you wrong our nobles here.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I think I wrong them not. Which of you all<br />Finding a thief +within his house at night,<br />With some poor chattel thrust into his +rags,<br />Will stop and parley with him? do ye not<br />Give him unto +the officer and his hook<br />To be dragged gaolwards straightway?<br />And +so now,<br />Had ye been men, finding this fellow here,<br />With my +Lord’s life still hot upon his hands,<br />Ye would have haled +him out into the court,<br />And struck his head off with an axe.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Speak, my Lord Justice.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Your Grace, it cannot be:<br />The laws of Padua are most certain +here:<br />And by those laws the common murderer even<br />May with +his own lips plead, and make defence.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>This is no common murderer, Lord Justice,<br />But a great outlaw, +and a most vile traitor,<br />Taken in open arms against the state.<br />For +he who slays the man who rules a state<br />Slays the state also, widows +every wife,<br />And makes each child an orphan, and no less<br />Is +to be held a public enemy,<br />Than if he came with mighty ordonnance,<br />And +all the spears of Venice at his back,<br />To beat and batter at our +city gates -<br />Nay, is more dangerous to our commonwealth,<br />For +walls and gates, bastions and forts, and things<br />Whose common elements +are wood and stone<br />May be raised up, but who can raise again<br />The +ruined body of my murdered lord,<br />And bid it live and laugh?</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>Now by Saint Paul<br />I do not think that they will let him speak.</p> +<p>JEPPO VITELLOZZO</p> +<p>There is much in this, listen.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Wherefore now,<br />Throw ashes on the head of Padua,<br />With sable +banners hang each silent street,<br />Let every man be clad in solemn +black;<br />But ere we turn to these sad rites of mourning<br />Let +us bethink us of the desperate hand<br />Which wrought and brought this +ruin on our state,<br />And straightway pack him to that narrow house,<br />Where +no voice is, but with a little dust<br />Death fills right up the lying +mouths of men.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord Justice,<br />Thou +mightst as well bid the untrammelled ocean,<br />The winter whirlwind, +or the Alpine storm,<br />Not roar their will, as bid me hold my peace!<br />Ay! +though ye put your knives into my throat,<br />Each grim and gaping +wound shall find a tongue,<br />And cry against you.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Sir, this violence<br />Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal<br />Give +thee a lawful right to open speech,<br />Naught that thou sayest can +be credited.<br />[The DUCHESS smiles and GUIDO falls back with a gesture +of despair.]<br />Madam, myself, and these wise Justices,<br />Will +with your Grace’s sanction now retire<br />Into another chamber, +to decide<br />Upon this difficult matter of the law,<br />And search +the statutes and the precedents.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes well,<br />Nor let this +brawling traitor have his way.</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Go, my Lord Justice, search thy conscience well,<br />Nor let a man +be sent to death unheard.<br />[Exit the LORD JUSTICE and the Judges.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Silence, thou evil genius of my life!<br />Thou com’st between +us two a second time;<br />This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I shall not die till I have uttered voice.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with thee.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I am what thou hast made me; look at me well,<br />I am thy handiwork.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>See, is she not<br />Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice,<br />Sent +by some Indian soldan to the Doge?</p> +<p>JEPPO</p> +<p>Hush! she may hear thy chatter.</p> +<p>HEADSMAN</p> +<p>My young fellow,<br />I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak,<br />Seeing +my axe is close upon thy neck,<br />And words of thine will never blunt +its edge.<br />But if thou art so bent upon it, why<br />Thou mightest +plead unto the Churchman yonder:<br />The common people call him kindly +here,<br />Indeed I know he has a kindly soul.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies<br />More than the +others.</p> +<p>HEADSMAN</p> +<p>Why, God love you, sir,<br />I’ll do you your last service +on this earth.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land,<br />With Lord Christ’s +face of mercy looking down<br />From the high seat of Judgment, shall +a man<br />Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so,<br />May +I not tell this dreadful tale of sin,<br />If any sin there be upon +my soul?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Thou dost but waste thy time.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>Alack, my son,<br />I have no power with the secular arm.<br />My +task begins when justice has been done,<br />To urge the wavering sinner +to repent<br />And to confess to Holy Church’s ear<br />The dreadful +secrets of a sinful mind.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Thou mayest speak to the confessional<br />Until thy lips grow weary +of their tale,<br />But here thou shalt not speak.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>My reverend father,<br />You bring me but cold comfort.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>Nay, my son,<br />For the great power of our mother Church,<br />Ends +not with this poor bubble of a world,<br />Of which we are but dust, +as Jerome saith,<br />For if the sinner doth repentant die,<br />Our +prayers and holy masses much avail<br />To bring the guilty soul from +purgatory.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord<br />With that red star +of blood upon his heart,<br />Tell him I sent thee hither.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O dear God!</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>This is the woman, is it, whom you loved?</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>Your Grace is very cruel to this man.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No more than he was cruel to her Grace.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I got no mercy, and I give it not.<br />He hath changed my heart +into a heart of stone,<br />He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field,<br />He +hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast,<br />He hath withered +up all kindness at the root;<br />My life is as some famine murdered +land,<br />Whence all good things have perished utterly:<br />I am what +he hath made me.<br />[The DUCHESS weeps.]</p> +<p>JEPPO</p> +<p>Is it not strange<br />That she should so have loved the wicked Duke?</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>It is most strange when women love their lords,<br />And when they +love them not it is most strange.</p> +<p>JEPPO</p> +<p>What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci!</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>Ay! I can bear the ills of other men,<br />Which is philosophy.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>They tarry long,<br />These greybeards and their council; bid them +come;<br />Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart<br />Will beat +itself to bursting: not indeed,<br />That I here care to live; God knows +my life<br />Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that,<br />I would +not die companionless, or go<br />Lonely to Hell.<br />Look, my Lord +Cardinal,<br />Canst thou not see across my forehead here,<br />In scarlet +letters writ, the word Revenge?<br />Fetch me some water, I will wash +it off:<br />’Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time<br />I +need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal?<br />Oh, how it sears and +burns into my brain:<br />Give me a knife; not that one, but another,<br />And +I will cut it out.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>It is most natural<br />To be incensed against the murderous hand<br />That +treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand;<br />But it will burn +hereafter.</p> +<p>CARDINAL</p> +<p>Nay, the Church<br />Ordains us to forgive our enemies.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it.<br />They come at +last: well, my Lord Justice, well.<br />[Enter the LORD JUSTICE.]</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege,<br />We have long pondered +on the point at issue,<br />And much considered of your Grace’s +wisdom,<br />And never wisdom spake from fairer lips -</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Proceed, sir, without compliment.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>We find,<br />As your own Grace did rightly signify,<br />That any +citizen, who by force or craft<br />Conspires against the person of +the Liege,<br />Is <i>ipso facto</i> outlaw, void of rights<br />Such +as pertain to other citizens,<br />Is traitor, and a public enemy,<br />Who +may by any casual sword be slain<br />Without the slayer’s danger; +nay, if brought<br />Into the presence of the tribunal,<br />Must with +dumb lips and silence reverent<br />Listen unto his well-deserved doom,<br />Nor +has the privilege of open speech.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily;<br />I like your law: and +now I pray dispatch<br />This public outlaw to his righteous doom;<br />What +is there more?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Ay, there is more, your Grace.<br />This man being alien born, not +Paduan,<br />Nor by allegiance bound unto the Duke,<br />Save such as +common nature doth lay down,<br />Hath, though accused of treasons manifold,<br />Whose +slightest penalty is certain death,<br />Yet still the right of public +utterance<br />Before the people and the open court;<br />Nay, shall +be much entreated by the Court,<br />To make some formal pleading for +his life,<br />Lest his own city, righteously incensed,<br />Should +with an unjust trial tax our state,<br />And wars spring up against +the commonwealth:<br />So merciful are the laws of Padua<br />Unto the +stranger living in her gates.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Being of my Lord’s household, is he stranger here?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Ay, until seven years of service spent<br />He cannot be a Paduan +citizen.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I thank thee, my Lord Justice, heartily;<br />I like your law.</p> +<p>SECOND CITIZEN</p> +<p>I like no law at all:<br />Were there no law there’d be no +law-breakers,<br />So all men would be virtuous.</p> +<p>FIRST CITIZEN</p> +<p>So they would;<br />’Tis a wise saying that, and brings you +far.</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Ay! to the gallows, knave.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Is this the law?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>It is the law most certainly, my liege.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Show me the book: ’tis written in blood-red.</p> +<p>JEPPO</p> +<p>Look at the Duchess.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Thou accursed law,<br />I would that I could tear thee from the state<br />As +easy as I tear thee from this book.<br />[Tears out the page.]<br />Come +here, Count Bardi: are you honourable?<br />Get a horse ready for me +at my house,<br />For I must ride to Venice instantly.</p> +<p>BARDI</p> +<p>To Venice, Madam?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Not a word of this,<br />Go, go at once. [Exit COUNT BARDI.]<br />A +moment, my Lord Justice.<br />If, as thou sayest it, this is the law +-<br />Nay, nay, I doubt not that thou sayest right,<br />Though right +be wrong in such a case as this -<br />May I not by the virtue of mine +office<br />Adjourn this court until another day?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Madam, you cannot stay a trial for blood.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I will not tarry then to hear this man<br />Rail with rude tongue +against our sacred person.<br />Come, gentlemen.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>My liege,<br />You cannot leave this court until the prisoner<br />Be +purged or guilty of this dread offence.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Cannot, Lord Justice? By what right do you<br />Set barriers +in my path where I should go?<br />Am I not Duchess here in Padua,<br />And +the state’s regent?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>For that reason, Madam,<br />Being the fountain-head of life and +death<br />Whence, like a mighty river, justice flows,<br />Without +thy presence justice is dried up<br />And fails of purpose: thou must +tarry here.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What, wilt thou keep me here against my will?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>We pray thy will be not against the law.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>What if I force my way out of the court?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Thou canst not force the Court to give thee way.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I will not tarry. [Rises from her seat.]</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Is the usher here?<br />Let him stand forth. [Usher comes forward.]<br />Thou +knowest thy business, sir.<br />[The Usher closes the doors of the court, +which are L., and when the DUCHESS and her retinue approach, kneels +down.]</p> +<p>USHER</p> +<p>In all humility I beseech your Grace<br />Turn not my duty to discourtesy,<br />Nor +make my unwelcome office an offence.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Is there no gentleman amongst you all<br />To prick this prating +fellow from our way?</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>[drawing his sword]<br />Ay! that will I.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Count Maffio, have a care,<br />And you, sir. [To JEPPO.]<br />The +first man who draws his sword<br />Upon the meanest officer of this +Court,<br />Dies before nightfall.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Sirs, put up your swords:<br />It is most meet that I should hear +this man.<br />[Goes back to throne.]</p> +<p>MORANZONE</p> +<p>Now hast thou got thy enemy in thy hand.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>[taking the time-glass up]<br />Guido Ferranti, while the crumbling +sand<br />Falls through this time-glass, thou hast leave to speak.<br />This +and no more.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It is enough, my lord.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Thou standest on the extreme verge of death;<br />See that thou speakest +nothing but the truth,<br />Naught else will serve thee.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>If I speak it not,<br />Then give my body to the headsman there.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>[turns the time-glass]<br />Let there be silence while the prisoner +speaks.</p> +<p>TIPSTAFF</p> +<p>Silence in the Court there.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>My Lords Justices,<br />And reverent judges of this worthy court,<br />I +hardly know where to begin my tale,<br />So strangely dreadful is this +history.<br />First, let me tell you of what birth I am.<br />I am the +son of that good Duke Lorenzo<br />Who was with damned treachery done +to death<br />By a most wicked villain, lately Duke<br />Of this good +town of Padua.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Have a care,<br />It will avail thee nought to mock this prince<br />Who +now lies in his coffin.</p> +<p>MAFFIO</p> +<p>By Saint James,<br />This is the Duke of Parma’s rightful heir.</p> +<p>JEPPO</p> +<p>I always thought him noble.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I confess<br />That with the purport of a just revenge,<br />A most +just vengeance on a man of blood,<br />I entered the Duke’s household, +served his will,<br />Sat at his board, drank of his wine, and was<br />His +intimate: so much I will confess,<br />And this too, that I waited till +he grew<br />To give the fondest secrets of his life<br />Into my keeping, +till he fawned on me,<br />And trusted me in every private matter<br />Even +as my noble father trusted him;<br />That for this thing I waited.<br />[To +the Headsman.] Thou man of blood!<br />Turn not thine axe on me +before the time:<br />Who knows if it be time for me to die?<br />Is +there no other neck in court but mine?</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>The sand within the time-glass flows apace.<br />Come quickly to +the murder of the Duke.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I will be brief: Last night at twelve o’ the clock,<br />By +a strong rope I scaled the palace wall,<br />With purport to revenge +my father’s murder -<br />Ay! with that purport I confess, my +lord.<br />This much I will acknowledge, and this also,<br />That as +with stealthy feet I climbed the stair<br />Which led unto the chamber +of the Duke,<br />And reached my hand out for the scarlet cloth<br />Which +shook and shivered in the gusty door,<br />Lo! the white moon that sailed +in the great heaven<br />Flooded with silver light the darkened room,<br />Night +lit her candles for me, and I saw<br />The man I hated, cursing in his +sleep;<br />And thinking of a most dear father murdered,<br />Sold to +the scaffold, bartered to the block,<br />I smote the treacherous villain +to the heart<br />With this same dagger, which by chance I found<br />Within +the chamber.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[rising from her seat]<br />Oh!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[hurriedly]<br />I killed the Duke.<br />Now, my Lord Justice, if +I may crave a boon,<br />Suffer me not to see another sun<br />Light +up the misery of this loathsome world.</p> +<p>LORD JUSTICE</p> +<p>Thy boon is granted, thou shalt die to-night.<br />Lead him away. +Come, Madam<br />[GUIDO is led off; as he goes the DUCHESS stretches +out her arms and rushes down the stage.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Guido! Guido!<br />[Faints.]</p> +<p>Tableau</p> +<p>END OF ACT IV.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ACT V</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>SCENE</p> +<p>A dungeon in the public prison of Padua; Guido lies asleep on a pallet +(L.C.); a table with a goblet on it is set (L.C.); five soldiers are +drinking and playing dice in the corner on a stone table; one of them +has a lantern hung to his halbert; a torch is set in the wall over Guido’s +head. Two grated windows behind, one on each side of the door +which is (C.), look out into the passage; the stage is rather dark.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>[throws dice]<br />Sixes again! good Pietro.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>I’ faith, lieutenant, I will play with thee no more. +I will lose everything.</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>Except thy wits; thou art safe there!</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>Ay, ay, he cannot take them from me.</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>No; for thou hast no wits to give him.</p> +<p>THE SOLDIERS</p> +<p>[loudly]<br />Ha! ha! ha!</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Silence! You will wake the prisoner; he is asleep.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>What matter? He will get sleep enough when he is buried. +I warrant he’d be glad if we could wake him when he’s in +the grave.</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>Nay! for when he wakes there it will be judgment day.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>Ay, and he has done a grievous thing; for, look you, to murder one +of us who are but flesh and blood is a sin, and to kill a Duke goes +being near against the law.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Well, well, he was a wicked Duke.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>And so he should not have touched him; if one meddles with wicked +people, one is like to be tainted with their wickedness.</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>Ay, that is true. How old is the prisoner?</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>Old enough to do wrong, and not old enough to be wise.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Why, then, he might be any age.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>They say the Duchess wanted to pardon him.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Is that so?</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>Ay, and did much entreat the Lord Justice, but he would not.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>I had thought, Pietro, that the Duchess was omnipotent.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>True, she is well-favoured; I know none so comely.</p> +<p>THE SOLDIERS</p> +<p>Ha! ha! ha!</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>I meant I had thought our Duchess could do anything.</p> +<p>SECOND SOLDIER</p> +<p>Nay, for he is now given over to the Justices, and they will see +that justice be done; they and stout Hugh the headsman; but when his +head is off, why then the Duchess can pardon him if she likes; there +is no law against that.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>I do not think that stout Hugh, as you call him, will do the business +for him after all. This Guido is of gentle birth, and so by the +law can drink poison first, if it so be his pleasure.</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>And if he does not drink it?</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Why, then, they will kill him.<br />[Knocking comes at the door.]</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>See who that is.<br />[Third Soldier goes over and looks through +the wicket.]</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>It is a woman, sir.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Is she pretty?</p> +<p>THIRD SOLDIER</p> +<p>I can’t tell. She is masked, lieutenant.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>It is only very ugly or very beautiful women who ever hide their +faces. Let her in.<br />[Soldier opens the door, and the DUCHESS +masked and cloaked enters.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[to Third Soldier]<br />Are you the officer on guard?</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>[coming forward]<br />I am, madam.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I must see the prisoner alone.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>I am afraid that is impossible. [The DUCHESS hands him a ring, +he looks at and returns it to her with a bow and makes a sign to the +Soldiers.] Stand without there. [Exeunt the Soldiers.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Officer, your men are somewhat rough.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>They mean no harm.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I shall be going back in a few minutes. As I pass through the +corridor do not let them try and lift my mask.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>You need not be afraid, madam.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>I have a particular reason for wishing my face not to be seen.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Madam, with this ring you can go in and out as you please; it is +the Duchess’s own ring.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Leave us. [The Soldier turns to go out.] A moment, sir. +For what hour is . . .</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>At twelve o’clock, madam, we have orders to lead him out; but +I dare say he won’t wait for us; he’s more like to take +a drink out of that poison yonder. Men are afraid of the headsman.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Is that poison?</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>Ay, madam, and very sure poison too.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>You may go, sir.</p> +<p>FIRST SOLDIER</p> +<p>By Saint James, a pretty hand! I wonder who she is. Some +woman who loved him, perhaps. [Exit.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[taking her mark off] At last!<br />He can escape now in this +cloak and vizard,<br />We are of a height almost: they will not know +him;<br />As for myself what matter?<br />So that he does not curse +me as he goes,<br />I care but little: I wonder will he curse me.<br />He +has the right. It is eleven now;<br />They will not come till +twelve.<br />[Goes over to the table.]<br />So this is poison.<br />Is +it not strange that in this liquor here<br />There lies the key to all +philosophies?<br />[Takes the cup up.]<br />It smells of poppies. +I remember well<br />That, when I was a child in Sicily,<br />I took +the scarlet poppies from the corn,<br />And made a little wreath, and +my grave uncle,<br />Don John of Naples, laughed: I did not know<br />That +they had power to stay the springs of life,<br />To make the pulse cease +beating, and to chill<br />The blood in its own vessels, till men come<br />And +with a hook hale the poor body out,<br />And throw it in a ditch: the +body, ay, -<br />What of the soul? that goes to heaven or hell.<br />Where +will mine go?<br />[Takes the torch from the wall, and goes over to +the bed.]<br />How peacefully here he sleeps,<br />Like a young schoolboy +tired out with play:<br />I would that I could sleep so peacefully,<br />But +I have dreams. [Bending over him.]<br />Poor boy: what if I kissed +him?<br />No, no, my lips would burn him like a fire.<br />He has had +enough of Love. Still that white neck<br />Will ’scape the +headsman: I have seen to that:<br />He will get hence from Padua to-night,<br />And +that is well. You are very wise, Lord Justices,<br />And yet you +are not half so wise as I am,<br />And that is well.<br />O God! how +I have loved you,<br />And what a bloody flower did Love bear!<br />[Comes +back to the table.]<br />What if I drank these juices, and so ceased?<br />Were +it not better than to wait till Death<br />Come to my bed with all his +serving men,<br />Remorse, disease, old age, and misery?<br />I wonder +does one suffer much: I think<br />That I am very young to die like +this,<br />But so it must be. Why, why should I die?<br />He will +escape to-night, and so his blood<br />Will not be on my head. +No, I must die;<br />I have been guilty, therefore I must die;<br />He +loves me not, and therefore I must die:<br />I would die happier if +he would kiss me,<br />But he will not do that. I did not know +him.<br />I thought he meant to sell me to the Judge;<br />That is not +strange; we women never know<br />Our lovers till they leave us.<br />[Bell +begins to toll]<br />Thou vile bell,<br />That like a bloodhound from +thy brazen throat<br />Call’st for this man’s life, cease! +thou shalt not get it.<br />He stirs - I must be quick: [Takes +up cup.]<br />O Love, Love, Love,<br />I did not think that I would +pledge thee thus!<br />[Drinks poison, and sets the cup down on the +table behind her: the noise wakens GUIDO, who starts up, and does not +see what she has done. There is silence for a minute, each looking +at the other.]<br />I do not come to ask your pardon now,<br />Seeing +I know I stand beyond all pardon;<br />Enough of that: I have already, +sir,<br />Confessed my sin to the Lords Justices;<br />They would not +listen to me: and some said<br />I did invent a tale to save your life;<br />You +have trafficked with me; others said<br />That women played with pity +as with men;<br />Others that grief for my slain Lord and husband<br />Had +robbed me of my wits: they would not hear me,<br />And, when I sware +it on the holy book,<br />They bade the doctor cure me. They are +ten,<br />Ten against one, and they possess your life.<br />They call +me Duchess here in Padua.<br />I do not know, sir; if I be the Duchess,<br />I +wrote your pardon, and they would not take it;<br />They call it treason, +say I taught them that;<br />Maybe I did. Within an hour, Guido,<br />They +will be here, and drag you from the cell,<br />And bind your hands behind +your back, and bid you<br />Kneel at the block: I am before them there;<br />Here +is the signet ring of Padua,<br />’Twill bring you safely through +the men on guard;<br />There is my cloak and vizard; they have orders<br />Not +to be curious: when you pass the gate<br />Turn to the left, and at +the second bridge<br />You will find horses waiting: by to-morrow<br />You +will be at Venice, safe. [A pause.]<br />Do you not speak?<br />Will +you not even curse me ere you go? -<br />You have the right. [A +pause.]<br />You do not understand<br />There lies between you and the +headsman’s axe<br />Hardly so much sand in the hour-glass<br />As +a child’s palm could carry: here is the ring:<br />I have washed +my hand: there is no blood upon it:<br />You need not fear. Will +you not take the ring?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[takes ring and kisses it]<br />Ay! gladly, Madam.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And leave Padua.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Leave Padua.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>But it must be to-night.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>To-night it shall be.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Oh, thank God for that!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>So I can live; life never seemed so sweet<br />As at this moment.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Do not tarry, Guido,<br />There is my cloak: the horse is at the +bridge,<br />The second bridge below the ferry house:<br />Why do you +tarry? Can your ears not hear<br />This dreadful bell, whose every +ringing stroke<br />Robs one brief minute from your boyish life.<br />Go +quickly.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ay! he will come soon enough.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Who?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[calmly]<br />Why, the headsman.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, no.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Only he<br />Can bring me out of Padua.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>You dare not!<br />You dare not burden my o’erburdened soul<br />With +two dead men! I think one is enough.<br />For when I stand before +God, face to face,<br />I would not have you, with a scarlet thread<br />Around +your white throat, coming up behind<br />To say I did it.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Madam, I wait.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, no, you cannot: you do not understand,<br />I have less power +in Padua to-night<br />Than any common woman; they will kill you.<br />I +saw the scaffold as I crossed the square,<br />Already the low rabble +throng about it<br />With fearful jests, and horrid merriment,<br />As +though it were a morris-dancer’s platform,<br />And not Death’s +sable throne. O Guido, Guido,<br />You must escape!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Madam, I tarry here.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Guido, you shall not: it would be a thing<br />So terrible that the +amazed stars<br />Would fall from heaven, and the palsied moon<br />Be +in her sphere eclipsed, and the great sun<br />Refuse to shine upon +the unjust earth<br />Which saw thee die.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Be sure I shall not stir.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[wringing her hands]<br />Is one sin not enough, but must it breed<br />A +second sin more horrible again<br />Than was the one that bare it? +O God, God,<br />Seal up sin’s teeming womb, and make it barren,<br />I +will not have more blood upon my hand<br />Than I have now.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[seizing her hand]<br />What! am I fallen so low<br />That I may +not have leave to die for you?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[tearing her hand away]<br />Die for me? - no, my life is a vile +thing,<br />Thrown to the miry highways of this world;<br />You shall +not die for me, you shall not, Guido;<br />I am a guilty woman.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Guilty? - let those<br />Who know what a thing temptation is,<br />Let +those who have not walked as we have done,<br />In the red fire of passion, +those whose lives<br />Are dull and colourless, in a word let those,<br />If +any such there be, who have not loved,<br />Cast stones against you. +As for me -</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas!</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[falling at her feet]<br />You are my lady, and you are my love!<br />O +hair of gold, O crimson lips, O face<br />Made for the luring and the +love of man!<br />Incarnate image of pure loveliness!<br />Worshipping +thee I do forget the past,<br />Worshipping thee my soul comes close +to thine,<br />Worshipping thee I seem to be a god,<br />And though +they give my body to the block,<br />Yet is my love eternal!<br />[DUCHESS +puts her hands over her face: GUIDO draws them down.]<br />Sweet, lift +up<br />The trailing curtains that overhang your eyes<br />That I may +look into those eyes, and tell you<br />I love you, never more than +now when Death<br />Thrusts his cold lips between us: Beatrice,<br />I +love you: have you no word left to say?<br />Oh, I can bear the executioner,<br />But +not this silence: will you not say you love me?<br />Speak but that +word and Death shall lose his sting,<br />But speak it not, and fifty +thousand deaths<br />Are, in comparison, mercy. Oh, you are cruel,<br />And +do not love me.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Alas! I have no right<br />For I have stained the innocent +hands of love<br />With spilt-out blood: there is blood on the ground;<br />I +set it there.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Sweet, it was not yourself,<br />It was some devil tempted you.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[rising suddenly]<br />No, no,<br />We are each our own devil, and +we make<br />This world our hell.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Then let high Paradise<br />Fall into Tartarus! for I shall make<br />This +world my heaven for a little space.<br />The sin was mine, if any sin +there was.<br />’Twas I who nurtured murder in my heart,<br />Sweetened +my meats, seasoned my wine with it,<br />And in my fancy slew the accursed +Duke<br />A hundred times a day. Why, had this man<br />Died half +so often as I wished him to,<br />Death had been stalking ever through +the house,<br />And murder had not slept.<br />But you, fond heart,<br />Whose +little eyes grew tender over a whipt hound,<br />You whom the little +children laughed to see<br />Because you brought the sunlight where +you passed,<br />You the white angel of God’s purity,<br />This +which men call your sin, what was it?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Ay!<br />What was it? There are times it seems a dream,<br />An +evil dream sent by an evil god,<br />And then I see the dead face in +the coffin<br />And know it is no dream, but that my hand<br />Is red +with blood, and that my desperate soul<br />Striving to find some haven +for its love<br />From the wild tempest of this raging world,<br />Has +wrecked its bark upon the rocks of sin.<br />What was it, said you? +- murder merely? Nothing<br />But murder, horrible murder.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Nay, nay, nay,<br />’Twas but the passion-flower of your love<br />That +in one moment leapt to terrible life,<br />And in one moment bare this +gory fruit,<br />Which I had plucked in thought a thousand times.<br />My +soul was murderous, but my hand refused;<br />Your hand wrought murder, +but your soul was pure.<br />And so I love you, Beatrice, and let him<br />Who +has no mercy for your stricken head,<br />Lack mercy up in heaven! +Kiss me, sweet.<br />[Tries to kiss her.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, no, your lips are pure, and mine are soiled,<br />For Guilt has +been my paramour, and Sin<br />Lain in my bed: O Guido, if you love +me<br />Get hence, for every moment is a worm<br />Which gnaws your +life away: nay, sweet, get hence,<br />And if in after time you think +of me,<br />Think of me as of one who loved you more<br />Than anything +on earth; think of me, Guido,<br />As of a woman merely, one who tried<br />To +make her life a sacrifice to love,<br />And slew love in the trial: +Oh, what is that?<br />The bell has stopped from ringing, and I hear<br />The +feet of armed men upon the stair.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>[aside]<br />That is the signal for the guard to come.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Why has the bell stopped ringing?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>If you must know,<br />That stops my life on this side of the grave,<br />But +on the other we shall meet again.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, no, ’tis not too late: you must get hence;<br />The horse +is by the bridge, there is still time.<br />Away, away, you must not +tarry here!<br />[Noise of Soldiers in the passage.]</p> +<p>A VOICE OUTSIDE</p> +<p>Room for the Lord Justice of Padua!<br />[The LORD JUSTICE is seen +through the grated window passing down the corridor preceded by men +bearing torches.]</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>It is too late.</p> +<p>A VOICE OUTSIDE</p> +<p>Room for the headsman.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[sinks down]<br />Oh!<br />[The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder +is seen passing the corridor, followed by Monks bearing candles.]</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this poison.<br />I do not +fear the headsman, but I would die<br />Not on the lonely scaffold.<br />But +here,<br />Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell!<br />[Goes +to the table and takes the goblet up.] What, art thou empty?<br />[Throws +it to the ground.]<br />O thou churlish gaoler,<br />Even of poisons +niggard!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>[faintly]<br />Blame him not.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God! you have not drunk it, Beatrice?<br />Tell me you have not?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Were I to deny it,<br />There is a fire eating at my heart<br />Which +would find utterance.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O treacherous love,<br />Why have you not left a drop for me?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, no, it held but death enough for one.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Is there no poison still upon your lips,<br />That I may draw it +from them?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Why should you die?<br />You have not spilt blood, and so need not +die:<br />I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die.<br />Was it +not said blood should be spilt for blood?<br />Who said that? +I forget.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Tarry for me,<br />Our souls will go together.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Nay, you must live.<br />There are many other women in the world<br />Who +will love you, and not murder for your sake.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I love you only.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>You need not die for that.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ah, if we die together, love, why then<br />Can we not lie together +in one grave?</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>It is enough for us</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>And they will strew it<br />With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter +herbs:<br />I think there are no roses in the grave,<br />Or if there +are, they all are withered now<br />Since my Lord went there.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Ah! dear Beatrice,<br />Your lips are roses that death cannot wither.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips<br />Fall into dust, and +your enamoured eyes<br />Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms,<br />Which +are our groomsmen, eat away your heart?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I do not care: Death has no power on love.<br />And so by Love’s +immortal sovereignty<br />I will die with you.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>But the grave is black,<br />And the pit black, so I must go before<br />To +light the candles for your coming hither.<br />No, no, I will not die, +I will not die.<br />Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave;<br />Stand +between me and the angel of death,<br />And wrestle with him for me.<br />[Thrusts +GUIDO in front of her with his back to the audience.]<br />I will kiss +you,<br />When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial,<br />To +stay the workings of this poison in me?<br />Are there no rivers left +in Italy<br />That you will not fetch me one cup of water<br />To quench +this fire?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O God!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>You did not tell me<br />There was a drought in Italy, and no water:<br />Nothing +but fire.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O Love!</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Send for a leech,<br />Not him who stanched my husband, but another<br />We +have no time: send for a leech, I say:<br />There is an antidote against +each poison,<br />And he will sell it if we give him money.<br />Tell +him that I will give him Padua,<br />For one short hour of life: I will +not die.<br />Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me,<br />This +poison gnaws my heart: I did not know<br />It was such pain to die: +I thought that life<br />Had taken all the agonies to itself;<br />It +seems it is not so.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>O damnéd stars<br />Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, +and bid<br />The moon, your mistress, shine no more to-night.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Guido, why are we here? I think this room<br />Is poorly furnished +for a marriage chamber.<br />Let us get hence at once. Where are +the horses?<br />We should be on our way to Venice now.<br />How cold +the night is! We must ride faster.<br />[The Monks begin to chant +outside.]<br />Music! It should be merrier; but grief<br />Is +of the fashion now - I know not why.<br />You must not weep: do we not +love each other? -<br />That is enough. Death, what do you here?<br />You +were not bidden to this table, sir;<br />Away, we have no need of you: +I tell you<br />It was in wine I pledged you, not in poison.<br />They +lied who told you that I drank your poison.<br />It was spilt upon the +ground, like my Lord’s blood;<br />You came too late.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>Sweet, there is nothing there:<br />These things are only unreal +shadows.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Death,<br />Why do you tarry, get to the upper chamber;<br />The +cold meats of my husband’s funeral feast<br />Are set for you; +this is a wedding feast.<br />You are out of place, sir; and, besides, +’tis summer.<br />We do not need these heavy fires now,<br />You +scorch us.<br />Oh, I am burned up,<br />Can you do nothing? Water, +give me water,<br />Or else more poison. No: I feel no pain -<br />Is +it not curious I should feel no pain? -<br />And Death has gone away, +I am glad of that.<br />I thought he meant to part us. Tell me, +Guido,<br />Are you not sorry that you ever saw me?</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>I swear I would not have lived otherwise.<br />Why, in this dull +and common world of ours<br />Men have died looking for such moments +as this<br />And have not found them.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Then you are not sorry?<br />How strange that seems.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>What, Beatrice, have I not<br />Stood face to face with beauty? +That is enough<br />For one man’s life. Why, love, I could +be merry;<br />I have been often sadder at a feast,<br />But who were +sad at such a feast as this<br />When Love and Death are both our cup-bearers?<br />We +love and die together.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>Oh, I have been<br />Guilty beyond all women, and indeed<br />Beyond +all women punished. Do you think -<br />No, that could not be +- Oh, do you think that love<br />Can wipe the bloody stain from off +my hands,<br />Pour balm into my wounds, heal up my hurts,<br />And +wash my scarlet sins as white as snow? -<br />For I have sinned.</p> +<p>GUIDO</p> +<p>They do not sin at all<br />Who sin for love.</p> +<p>DUCHESS</p> +<p>No, I have sinned, and yet<br />Perchance my sin will be forgiven +me.<br />I have loved much</p> +<p>[They kiss each other now for the first time in this Act, when suddenly +the DUCHESS leaps up in the dreadful spasm of death, tears in agony +at her dress, and finally, with face twisted and distorted with pain, +falls back dead in a chair. GUIDO seizing her dagger from her +belt, kills himself; and, as he falls across her knees, clutches at +the cloak which is on the back of the chair, and throws it entirely +over her. There is a little pause. Then down the passage +comes the tramp of Soldiers; the door is opened, and the LORD JUSTICE, +the Headsman, and the Guard enter and see this figure shrouded in black, +and GUIDO lying dead across her. The LORD JUSTICE rushes forward +and drags the cloak off the DUCHESS, whose face is now the marble image +of peace, the sign of God’s forgiveness.]</p> +<p>Tableau</p> +<p>CURTAIN</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>End of the Project Gutenberg eText The Duchess of Padua</p> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE DUCHESS OF PADUA ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named dpdua10h.htm or dpdua10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, dpdua11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, dpdua10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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