Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series

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Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 104

by Percy Bysshe Shelley


  Between that hapless child and her dead father

  A gulf of obscure hatred.

  SAVELLA

  Is it so, 100

  Is it true, Lady, that thy father did

  Such outrages as to awaken in thee

  Unfilial hate?

  BEATRICE

  Not hate, ‘t was more than hate;

  This is most true, yet wherefore question me?

  SAVELLA

  There is a deed demanding question done;

  Thou hast a secret which will answer not.

  BEATRICE

  What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold and rash.

  SAVELLA

  I do arrest all present in the name

  Of the Pope’s Holiness. You must to Rome.

  LUCRETIA

  Oh, not to Rome! indeed we are not guilty. 110

  BEATRICE

  Guilty! who dares talk of guilt? My Lord,

  I am more innocent of parricide

  Than is a child born fatherless. Dear mother,

  Your gentleness and patience are no shield

  For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie,

  Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws,

  Rather will ye who are their ministers,

  Bar all access to retribution first,

  And then, when Heaven doth interpose to do

  What ye neglect, arming familiar things 120

  To the redress of an unwonted crime,

  Make ye the victims who demanded it

  Culprits? ‘T is ye are culprits! That poor wretch

  Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed,

  If it be true he murdered Cenci, was

  A sword in the right hand of justest God.

  Wherefore should I have wielded it? unless

  The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name

  God therefore scruples to avenge.

  SAVELLA

  You own

  That you desired his death?

  BEATRICE

  It would have been 130

  A crime no less than his, if for one moment

  That fierce desire had faded in my heart.

  ‘T is true I did believe, and hope, and pray,

  Ay, I even knew — for God is wise and just —

  That some strange sudden death hung over him.

  ‘T is true that this did happen, and most true

  There was no other rest for me on earth,

  No other hope in Heaven. Now what of this?

  SAVELLA

  Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here are both;

  I judge thee not.

  BEATRICE

  And yet, if you arrest me, 140

  You are the judge and executioner

  Of that which is the life of life; the breath

  Of accusation kills an innocent name,

  And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life

  Which is a mask without it. ‘T is most false

  That I am guilty of foul parricide;

  Although I must rejoice, for justest cause,

  That other hands have sent my father’s soul

  To ask the mercy he denied to me.

  Now leave us free; stain not a noble house 150

  With vague surmises of rejected crime;

  Add to our sufferings and your own neglect

  No heavier sum; let them have been enough;

  Leave us the wreck we have.

  SAVELLA

  I dare not, Lady.

  I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome.

  There the Pope’s further pleasure will be known.

  LUCRETIA

  Oh, not to Rome! Oh, take us not to Rome!

  BEATRICE

  Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as here

  Our innocence is as an armèd heel

  To trample accusation. God is there, 160

  As here, and with his shadow ever clothes

  The innocent, the injured, and the weak;

  And such are we. Cheer up, dear Lady! lean

  On me; collect your wandering thoughts. My Lord,

  As soon as you have taken some refreshment,

  And had all such examinations made

  Upon the spot as may be necessary

  To the full understanding of this matter,

  We shall be ready. Mother, will you come?

  LUCRETIA

  Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest 170

  Self-accusation from our agony!

  Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio?

  All present; all confronted; all demanding

  Each from the other’s countenance the thing

  Which is in every heart! Oh, misery!

  (She faints, and is borne out)

  SAVELLA

  She faints; an ill appearance this.

  BEATRICE

  My Lord,

  She knows not yet the uses of the world.

  She fears that power is as a beast which grasps

  And loosens not; a snake whose look transmutes

  All things to guilt which is its nutriment. 180

  She cannot know how well the supine slaves

  Of blind authority read the truth of things

  When written on a brow of guilelessness;

  She sees not yet triumphant Innocence

  Stand at the judgment-seat of mortal man,

  A judge and an accuser of the wrong

  Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord.

  Our suite will join yours in the court below.

  [Exeunt.

  Act V

  SCENE I. — An Apartment in ORSINO’S Palace. Enter ORSINO and GIACOMO.

  GIACOMO

  Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end?

  Oh, that the vain remorse which must chastise

  Crimes done had but as loud a voice to warn

  As its keen sting is mortal to avenge!

  Oh, that the hour when present had cast off

  The mantle of its mystery, and shown

  The ghastly form with which it now returns

  When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds

  Of conscience to their prey! Alas, alas!

  It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed, 10

  To kill an old and hoary-headed father.

  ORSINO

  It has turned out unluckily, in truth.

  GIACOMO

  To violate the sacred doors of sleep;

  To cheat kind nature of the placid death

  Which she prepares for overwearied age;

  To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul,

  Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers

  A life of burning crimes —

  ORSINO

  You cannot say

  I urged you to the deed.

  GIACOMO

  Oh, had I never

  Found in thy smooth and ready countenance 20

  The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou

  Never with hints and questions made me look

  Upon the monster of my thought, until

  It grew familiar to desire —

  ORSINO

  ‘T is thus

  Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts

  Upon the abettors of their own resolve;

  Or anything but their weak, guilty selves.

  And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril

  In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness

  Of penitence; confess ‘t is fear disguised 30

  From its own shame that takes the mantle now

  Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe?

  GIACOMO

  How can that be? Already Beatrice,

  Lucretia and the murderer are in prison.

  I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak,

  Sent to arrest us.

  ORSINO

  I have all prepared

  For instant flight. We can escape even now,

  So we take fleet occas
ion by the hair.

  GIACOMO

  Rather expire in tortures, as I may.

  What! will you cast by self-accusing flight 40

  Assured conviction upon Beatrice?

  She who alone, in this unnatural work

  Stands like God’s angel ministered upon

  By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong

  As turns black parricide to piety;

  Whilst we for basest ends — I fear, Orsino,

  While I consider all your words and looks,

  Comparing them with your proposal now,

  That you must be a villain. For what end

  Could you engage in such a perilous crime, 50

  Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles,

  Even to this gulf? Thou art no liar? No,

  Thou art a lie! Traitor and murderer!

  Coward and slave! But no — defend thyself;

  (Drawing)

  Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue

  Disdains to brand thee with.

  ORSINO

  Put up your weapon.

  Is it the desperation of your fear

  Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend,

  Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger

  Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed 60

  Was but to try you. As for me, I think

  Thankless affection led me to this point,

  From which, if my firm temper could repent,

  I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak,

  The ministers of justice wait below;

  They grant me these brief moments. Now, if you

  Have any word of melancholy comfort

  To speak to your pale wife, ‘t were best to pass

  Out at the postern, and avoid them so.

  GIACOMO

  O generous friend! how canst thou pardon me? 70

  Would that my life could purchase thine!

  ORSINO

  That wish

  Now comes a day too late. Haste; fare thee well!

  Hear’st thou not steps along the corridor?

  [Exit GIACOMO.

  I ‘m sorry for it; but the guards are waiting

  At his own gate, and such was my contrivance

  That I might rid me both of him and them.

  I thought to act a solemn comedy

  Upon the painted scene of this new world,

  And to attain my own peculiar ends

  By some such plot of mingled good and ill 80

  As others weave; but there arose a Power

  Which grasped and snapped the threads of my device,

  And turned it to a net of ruin — Ha!

  (A shout is heard)

  Is that my name I hear proclaimed abroad?

  But I will pass, wrapped in a vile disguise,

  Rags on my back and a false innocence

  Upon my face, through the misdeeming crowd,

  Which judges by what seems. ‘T is easy then,

  For a new name and for a country new,

  And a new life fashioned on old desires, 90

  To change the honors of abandoned Rome.

  And these must be the masks of that within,

  Which must remain unaltered. — Oh, I fear

  That what is past will never let me rest!

  Why, when none else is conscious, but myself,

  Of my misdeeds, should my own heart’s contempt

  Trouble me? Have I not the power to fly

  My own reproaches? Shall I be the slave

  Of — what? A word? which those of this false world

  Employ against each other, not themselves, 100

  As men wear daggers not for self-offence.

  But if I am mistaken, where shall I

  Find the disguise to hide me from myself,

  As now I skulk from every other eye?

  [Exit.

  SCENE II. — A Hall of Justice. CAMILLO, JUDGES, etc., are discovered seated; MARZIO is led in.

  FIRST JUDGE

  Accused, do you persist in your denial?

  I ask you, are you innocent, or guilty?

  I demand who were the participators

  In your offence. Speak truth, and the whole truth.

  MARZIO

  My God! I did not kill him; I know nothing;

  Olimpio sold the robe to me from which

  You would infer my guilt.

  SECOND JUDGE

  Away with him!

  FIRST JUDGE

  Dare you, with lips yet white from the rack’s kiss,

  Speak false? Is it so soft a questioner

  That you would bandy lover’s talk with it, 10

  Till it wind out your life and soul? Away!

  MARZIO

  Spare me! Oh, spare! I will confess.

  FIRST JUDGE

  Then speak.

  MARZIO

  I strangled him in his sleep.

  FIRST JUDGE

  Who urged you to it?

  MARZIO

  His own son Giacomo and the young prelate

  Orsino sent me to Petrella; there

  The ladies Beatrice and Lucretia

  Tempted me with a thousand crowns, and I

  And my companion forthwith murdered him.

  Now let me die.

  FIRST JUDGE

  This sounds as bad as truth.

  Guards, there, lead forth the prisoners.

  Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE and GIACOMO, guarded

  Look upon this man; 20

  When did you see him last?

  BEATRICE

  We never saw him.

  MARZIO

  You know me too well, Lady Beatrice.

  BEATRICE

  I know thee! how? where? when?

  MARZIO

  You know ‘t was I

  Whom you did urge with menaces and bribes

  To kill your father. When the thing was done,

  You clothed me in a robe of woven gold,

  And bade me thrive; how I have thriven, you see.

  You, my Lord Giacomo, Lady Lucretia,

  You know that what I speak is true.

  [BEATRICE advances towards him; he covers his face, and shrinks back.

  Oh, dart

  The terrible resentment of those eyes 30

  On the dead earth! Turn them away from me!

  They wound; ‘t was torture forced the truth. My Lords,

  Having said this, let me be led to death.

  BEATRICE

  Poor wretch, I pity thee; yet stay awhile.

  CAMILLO

  Guards, lead him not away.

  BEATRICE

  Cardinal Camillo,

  You have a good repute for gentleness

  And wisdom; can it be that you sit here

  To countenance a wicked farce like this?

  When some obscure and trembling slave is dragged

  From sufferings which might shake the sternest heart 40

  And bade to answer, not as he believes,

  But as those may suspect or do desire

  Whose questions thence suggest their own reply;

  And that in peril of such hideous torments

  As merciful God spares even the damned. Speak now

  The thing you surely know, which is, that you,

  If your fine frame were stretched upon that wheel,

  And you were told, ‘Confess that you did poison

  Your little nephew; that fair blue-eyed child

  Who was the lodestar of your life;’ and though 50

  All see, since his most swift and piteous death,

  That day and night, and heaven and earth, and time,

  And all the things hoped for or done therein,

  Are changed to you, through your exceeding grief,

  Yet you would say, ‘I confess anything,’

  And beg from your tormentors, like that slave,

  The refuge of dishonorable death.

  I pray thee, Cardinal, that thou assert

&nbs
p; My innocence.

  CAMILLO (much moved)

  What shall we think, my Lords?

  Shame on these tears! I thought the heart was frozen 60

  Which is their fountain. I would pledge my soul

  That she is guiltless.

  JUDGE

  Yet she must be tortured.

  CAMILLO

  I would as soon have tortured mine own nephew

  (If he now lived, he would be just her age;

  His hair, too, was her color, and his eyes

  Like hers in shape, but blue and not so deep)

  As that most perfect image of God’s love

  That ever came sorrowing upon the earth.

  She is as pure as speechless infancy!

  JUDGE

  Well, be her purity on your head, my Lord, 70

  If you forbid the rack. His Holiness

  Enjoined us to pursue this monstrous crime

  By the severest forms of law; nay, even

  To stretch a point against the criminals.

  The prisoners stand accused of parricide

  Upon such evidence as justifies

  Torture.

  BEATRICE

  What evidence? This man’s?

  JUDGE

  Even so.

  BEATRICE (to MARZIO)

  Come near. And who art thou, thus chosen forth

  Out of the multitude of living men,

  To kill the innocent?

  MARZIO

  I am Marzio, 80

  Thy father’s vassal.

  BEATRICE

  Fix thine eyes on mine;

  Answer to what I ask.

  (Turning to the Judges)

  I prithee mark

  His countenance; unlike bold calumny,

  Which sometimes dares not speak the thing it looks,

  He dares not look the thing he speaks, but bends

  His gaze on the blind earth.

  (To MARZIO)

  What! wilt thou say

  That I did murder my own father?

  MARZIO

  Oh!

  Spare me! My brain swims round — I cannot speak —

  It was that horrid torture forced the truth.

  Take me away! Let her not look on me! 90

  I am a guilty miserable wretch!

  I have said all I know; now, let me die!

  BEATRICE

  My Lords, if by my nature I had been

  So stern as to have planned the crime alleged,

  Which your suspicions dictate to this slave

  And the rack makes him utter, do you think

  I should have left this two-edged instrument

  Of my misdeed; this man, this bloody knife,

  With my own name engraven on the heft,

  Lying unsheathed amid a world of foes, 100

  For my own death? that with such horrible need

  For deepest silence I should have neglected

  So trivial a precaution as the making

  His tomb the keeper of a secret written

  On a thief’s memory? What is his poor life?

  What are a thousand lives? A parricide

  Had trampled them like dust; and see, he lives!

 

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