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!
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 104