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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Duchess of Padua, by Oscar Wilde
+(#9 in our series by Oscar Wilde)
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
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+
+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 ***
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