(Turning to MARZIO)
And thou —
MARZIO
Oh, spare me! Speak to me no more!
That stern yet piteous look, those solemn tones,
Wound worse than torture.
(To the Judges)
I have told it all; 110
For pity’s sake lead me away to death.
CAMILLO
Guards, lead him nearer the Lady Beatrice;
He shrinks from her regard like autumn’s leaf
From the keen breath of the serenest north.
BEATRICE
O thou who tremblest on the giddy verge
Of life and death, pause ere thou answerest me;
So mayst thou answer God with less dismay.
What evil have we done thee? I, alas!
Have lived but on this earth a few sad years,
And so my lot was ordered that a father 120
First turned the moments of awakening life
To drops, each poisoning youth’s sweet hope; and then
Stabbed with one blow my everlasting soul,
And my untainted fame; and even that peace
Which sleeps within the core of the heart’s heart.
But the wound was not mortal; so my hate
Became the only worship I could lift
To our great Father, who in pity and love
Armed thee, as thou dost say, to cut him off;
And thus his wrong becomes my accusation. 130
And art thou the accuser? If thou hopest
Mercy in heaven, show justice upon earth;
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
If thou hast done murders, made thy life’s path
Over the trampled laws of God and man,
Rush not before thy Judge, and say: ‘My Maker,
I have done this and more; for there was one
Who was most pure and innocent on earth;
And because she endured what never any,
Guilty or innocent, endured before, 140
Because her wrongs could not be told, nor thought,
Because thy hand at length did rescue her,
I with my words killed her and all her kin.’
Think, I adjure you, what it is to slay
The reverence living in the minds of men
Towards our ancient house and stainless fame!
Think what it is to strangle infant pity,
Cradled in the belief of guileless looks,
Till it become a crime to suffer. Think
What ‘t is to blot with infamy and blood 150
All that which shows like innocence, and is —
Hear me, great God! — I swear, most innocent;
So that the world lose all discrimination
Between the sly, fierce, wild regard of guilt,
And that which now compels thee to reply
To what I ask: Am I, or am I not
A parricide?
MARZIO
Thou art not!
JUDGE
What is this?
MARZIO
I here declare those whom I did accuse
Are innocent. ‘T is I alone am guilty.
JUDGE
Drag him away to torments; let them be 160
Subtle and long drawn out, to tear the folds
Of the heart’s inmost cell. Unbind him not
Till he confess.
MARZIO
Torture me as ye will;
A keener pang has wrung a higher truth
From my last breath. She is most innocent!
Bloodhounds, not men, glut yourselves well with me!
I will not give you that fine piece of nature
To rend and ruin.
[Exit MARZIO, guarded.
CAMILLO
What say ye now, my Lords?
JUDGE
Let tortures strain the truth till it be white
As snow thrice-sifted by the frozen wind. 170
CAMILLO
Yet stained with blood.
JUDGE (to BEATRICE)
Know you this paper, Lady?
BEATRICE
Entrap me not with questions. Who stands here
As my accuser? Ha! wilt thou be he,
Who art my judge? Accuser, witness, judge,
What, all in one? Here is Orsino’s name;
Where is Orsino? Let his eye meet mine.
What means this scrawl? Alas! ye know not what.
And therefore on the chance that it may be
Some evil, will ye kill us?
Enter an Officer
OFFICER
Marzio ‘s dead.
JUDGE
What did he say?
OFFICER
Nothing. As soon as we 180
Had bound him on the wheel, he smiled on us,
As one who baffles a deep adversary;
And holding his breath died.
JUDGE
There remains nothing
But to apply the question to those prisoners
Who yet remain stubborn.
CAMILLO
I overrule
Further proceedings, and in the behalf
Of these most innocent and noble persons
Will use my interest with the Holy Father.
JUDGE
Let the Pope’s pleasure then be done. Meanwhile
Conduct these culprits each to separate cells; 190
And be the engines ready; for this night,
If the Pope’s resolution be as grave,
Pious, and just as once, I ‘ll wring the truth
Out of those nerves and sinews, groan by groan.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. — The Cell of a Prison. BEATRICE is discovered asleep on a couch.
Enter BERNARDO
BERNARDO
How gently slumber rests upon her face,
Like the last thoughts of some day sweetly spent,
Closing in night and dreams, and so prolonged.
After such torments as she bore last night,
How light and soft her breathing comes. Ay me!
Methinks that I shall never sleep again.
But I must shake the heavenly dew of rest
From this sweet folded flower, thus — wake, awake!
What, sister, canst thou sleep?
BEATRICE (awaking)
I was just dreaming
That we were all in Paradise. Thou knowest 10
This cell seems like a kind of Paradise
After our father’s presence.
BERNARDO
Dear, dear sister,
Would that thy dream were not a dream! Oh, God,
How shall I tell?
BEATRICE
What wouldst thou tell, sweet brother?
BERNARDO
Look not so calm and happy, or even whilst
I stand considering what I have to say,
My heart will break.
BEATRICE
See now, thou mak’st me weep;
How very friendless thou wouldst be, dear child,
If I were dead. Say what thou hast to say.
BERNARDO
They have confessed; they could endure no more 20
The tortures —
BEATRICE
Ha! what was there to confess?
They must have told some weak and wicked lie
To flatter their tormentors. Have they said
That they were guilty? O white innocence,
That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide
Thine awful and serenest countenance
From those who know thee not!
Enter JUDGE, with LUCRETIA and GIACOMO, guarded
Ignoble hearts!
For some brief spasms of pain, which are at least
As mortal as the limbs through which they pass,
Are centuries of high splendor laid in dust? 30
And that eternal honor, which should live
Sunlike, above the reek of m
ortal fame,
Changed to a mockery and a byword? What!
Will you give up these bodies to be dragged
At horses’ heels, so that our hair should sweep
The footsteps of the vain and senseless crowd,
Who, that they may make our calamity
Their worship and their spectacle, will leave
The churches and the theatres as void
As their own hearts? Shall the light multitude 40
Fling, at their choice, curses or faded pity,
Sad funeral flowers to deck a living corpse,
Upon us as we pass to pass away,
And leave — what memory of our having been?
Infamy, blood, terror, despair? O thou
Who wert a mother to the parentless,
Kill not thy child! let not her wrongs kill thee!
Brother, lie down with me upon the rack,
And let us each be silent as a corpse;
It soon will be as soft as any grave. 50
‘T is but the falsehood it can wring from fear
Makes the rack cruel.
GIACOMO
They will tear the truth
Even from thee at last, those cruel pains;
For pity’s sake say thou art guilty now.
LUCRETIA
Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die;
And after death, God is our judge, not they;
He will have mercy on us.
BERNARDO
If indeed
It can be true, say so, dear sister mine;
And then the Pope will surely pardon you,
And all be well.
JUDGE
Confess, or I will warp 60
Your limbs with such keen tortures —
BEATRICE
Tortures! Turn
The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel!
Torture your dog, that he may tell when last
He lapped the blood his master shed — not me!
My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart,
And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul,
Which weeps within tears as of burning gall
To see, in this ill world where none are true,
My kindred false to their deserted selves;
And with considering all the wretched life 70
Which I have lived, and its now wretched end;
And the small justice shown by Heaven and Earth
To me or mine; and what a tyrant thou art,
And what slaves these; and what a world we make,
The oppressor and the oppressed — such pangs compel
My answer. What is it thou wouldst with me?
JUDGE
Art thou not guilty of thy father’s death?
BEATRICE
Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God
That he permitted such an act as that
Which I have suffered, and which he beheld; 80
Made it unutterable, and took from it
All refuge, all revenge, all consequence,
But that which thou hast called my father’s death?
Which is or is not what men call a crime,
Which either I have done, or have not done;
Say what ye will. I shall deny no more.
If ye desire it thus, thus let it be,
And so an end of all. Now do your will;
No other pains shall force another word.
JUDGE
She is convicted, but has not confessed. 90
Be it enough. Until their final sentence
Let none have converse with them. You, young Lord,
Linger not here!
BEATRICE
Oh, tear him not away!
JUDGE
Guards! do your duty.
BERNARDO (embracing BEATRICE)
Oh! would ye divide
Body from soul?
OFFICER
That is the headsman’s business.
[Exeunt all but LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and GIACOMO.
GIACOMO
Have I confessed? Is it all over now?
No hope! no refuge! O weak, wicked tongue,
Which hast destroyed me, would that thou hadst been
Cut out and thrown to dogs first! To have killed
My father first, and then betrayed my sister — 100
Ay thee! the one thing innocent and pure
In this black, guilty world — to that which I
So well deserve! My wife! my little ones!
Destitute, helpless; and I — Father! God!
Canst thou forgive even the unforgiving,
When their full hearts break thus, thus?
(Covers his face and weeps)
LUCRETIA
O my child!
To what a dreadful end are we all come!
Why did I yield? Why did I not sustain
Those torments? Oh, that I were all dissolved
Into these fast and unavailing tears, 110
Which flow and feel not!
BEATRICE
What ‘t was weak to do,
‘T is weaker to lament, once being done;
Take cheer! The God who knew my wrong, and made
Our speedy act the angel of his wrath,
Seems, and but seems, to have abandoned us.
Let us not think that we shall die for this.
Brother, sit near me; give me your firm hand,
You had a manly heart. Bear up! bear up!
O dearest Lady, put your gentle head
Upon my lap, and try to sleep awhile; 120
Your eyes look pale, hollow, and overworn,
With heaviness of watching and slow grief.
Come, I will sing you some low, sleepy tune,
Not cheerful, nor yet sad; some dull old thing,
Some outworn and unused monotony,
Such as our country gossips sing and spin,
Till they almost forget they live. Lie down —
So, that will do. Have I forgot the words?
Faith! they are sadder than I thought they were.
SONG
False friend, wilt thou smile or weep 130
When my life is laid asleep?
Little cares for a smile or a tear,
The clay-cold corpse upon the bier!
Farewell! Heigh-ho!
What is this whispers low?
There is a snake in thy smile, my dear;
And bitter poison within thy tear.
Sweet sleep! were death like to thee,
Or if thou couldst mortal be,
I would close these eyes of pain; 140
When to wake? Never again.
O World! farewell!
Listen to the passing bell!
It say, thou and I must part,
With a light and a heavy heart.
(The scene closes)
SCENE IV. — A Hall of the Prison. Enter CAMILLO and BERNARDO.
CAMILLO
The Pope is stern; not to be moved or bent.
He looked as calm and keen as is the engine
Which tortures and which kills, exempt itself
From aught that it inflicts; a marble form,
A rite, a law, a custom, not a man.
He frowned, as if to frown had been the trick
Of his machinery, on the advocates
Presenting the defences, which he tore
And threw behind, muttering with hoarse, harsh voice —
‘Which among ye defended their old father 10
Killed in his sleep?’ then to another—’Thou
Dost this in virtue of thy place; ‘t is well.’
He turned to me then, looking deprecation,
And said these three words, coldly—’They must die.’
BERNARDO
And yet you left him not?
CAMILLO
I urged him still;
Pleading, as I could guess, the devilish wrong
Which prompted your unnatural parent’s death.
Murdered his mother yester evening,
And he is fled. Parricide grows so rife, 20
That soon, for some just cause no doubt, the young
Will strangle us all, dozing in our chairs.
Authority, and power, and hoary hair
Are grown crimes capital. You are my nephew,
You come to ask their pardon; stay a moment;
Here is their sentence; never see me more
Till, to the letter, it be all fulfilled.’
BERNARDO
Oh, God, not so! I did believe indeed
That all you said was but sad preparation
For happy news. Oh, there are words and looks 30
To bend the sternest purpose! Once I knew them,
Now I forget them at my dearest need.
What think you if I seek him out, and bathe
His feet and robe with hot and bitter tears?
Importune him with prayers, vexing his brain
With my perpetual cries, until in rage
He strike me with his pastoral cross, and trample
Upon my prostrate head, so that my blood
May stain the senseless dust on which he treads,
And remorse waken mercy? I will do it! 40
Oh, wait till I return!
[Rushes out.
CAMILLO
Alas, poor boy!
A wreck-devoted seaman thus might pray
To the deaf sea.
Enter LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, and GIACOMO, guarded
BEATRICE
I hardly dare to fear
That thou bring’st other news than a just pardon.
CAMILLO
May God in heaven be less inexorable
To the Pope’s prayers than he has been to mine.
Here is the sentence and the warrant.
BEATRICE (wildly)
Oh,
My God! Can it be possible I have
To die so suddenly? so young to go
Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! 50
To be nailed down into a narrow place;
To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more
Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again
Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost!
How fearful! to be nothing! Or to be —
What? Oh, where am I? Let me not go mad!
Sweet Heaven, forgive weak thoughts! If there should be
No God, no Heaven, no Earth in the void world —
The wide, gray, lampless, deep, unpeopled world!
If all things then should be — my father’s spirit, 60
His eye, his voice, his touch surrounding me;
The atmosphere and breath of my dead life!
If sometimes, as a shape more like himself,
Even the form which tortured me on earth,
Masked in gray hairs and wrinkles, he should come,
And wind me in his hellish arms, and fix
His eyes on mine, and drag me down, down, down!
For was he not alone omnipotent
On Earth, and ever present? even though dead,
Percy Bysshe Shelley - Delphi Poets Series Page 105