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,