Cenci (addressing those who rise with a threatening gesture). Who moves? Who speaks? [Turning to the company. 'Tis nothing, Enjoy yourselves.-Beware! for my revenge Is as the sealed commission of a king, That kills, and none dare name the murderer. [The Banquet is broken up; several of the Guests are departing. Beatrice. I do entreat you, go not, noble guests; What although tyranny and impious hate Oh think what deep wrongs must have blotted out I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights, Passionate prayers; and, when these were not heard, O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman; Take us away!— Cenci. (He has been conversing with CAMILLO during the first part of BEATRICE's speech; he hears the conclusion, and now advances.) I hope my good friends here Will think of their own daughters-or perhaps Of their own throats-before they lend an ear To this wild girl. Beatrice (not noticing the words of Cenci). Dare not one look on me? None answer? Can one tyrant overbear O God! that I were buried with my brothers! Camillo. A bitter wish for one so young and gentle; Colonna. Nothing that I see. Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy: Yet I would second any one. A Cardinal. And I. Cenci. Retire to your chamber, insolent girl! Beatrice. Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more! And start if thou but hear a human step: Cenci. My friends, I do lament this insane girl Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer Another time.— [Exeunt all but CENCI and BEATRICE. My brain is swimming round; Give me a bowl of wine. (To BEATRICE). Thou painted viper! Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible! [Exit BEATRICE. Here, Andrea, Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said I would not drink this evening, but I must; For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail With thinking what I have decreed to do. [Drinking the wine. Be thou the resolution of quick youth Within my veins, and manhood's purpose stern, And age's firm, cold, subtle villany; As if thou wert indeed my children's blood Which I did thirst to drink. The charm works well ; It must be done, it shall be done, I swear! [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace. Enter LUCRETIA and BERNARDO. Lucretia. Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me, Who have borne deeper wrongs. In truth, if he Had killed me, he had done a kinder deed. O God Almighty, do thou look upon us! We have no other friend but only thee. Yet weep not; though I love you as my own, Bernardo. Oh! more, more Than ever mother was to any child, That have you been to me! Had he not been My father, do you think that I should weep? Lucretia. Alas! poor boy, what else couldst thou have done? Enter BEATRICE. Beatrice (in a hurried voice). Did he pass this way? Have you seen him, brother? Ah! no, that is his step upon the stairs; 'Tis nearer now; his hand is on the door! Mother, if I to thee have ever been A duteous child, now save me! Thou great God, Dost thou indeed abandon me? He comes The door is opening now! I see his face ; [Enter a Servant. 'Tis but Orsino's servant.-Well, what news? Servant. My master bids me say the Holy Father [Giving a paper. [Exit Servant. So, daughter, our last hope has failed. Ah me! And every one looked in his neighbour's face To see if others were as white as he? At the first word he spoke, I felt the blood Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance. What can have thus subdued it? What can now Have given you that cold melancholy look, Succeeding to your unaccustomed fear? Beatrice. What is it that you say? I was just thinking 'Twere better not to struggle any more. Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody, Yet never-Oh! before worse comes of it, 'Twere wise to die! it ends in that at last. Lucretia. Oh! talk not so, dear child! Tell me at once What did your father do or say to you? He stayed not, after that accursed feast, One moment in your chamber.-Speak to me. Bernardo. Oh sister, sister, prithee speak to us! Beatrice (speaking very slowly with a forced calmness). It was one word, mother, one little word; One look, one smile. Oh! he has trampled me Of heavy chains has gangrened his sweet limbs,- What would I say? [Wildly. [Recovering herself. Ah! no, 'tis nothing new. I should preserve my senses for your sake. Lucretia. Nay, Beatrice; have courage, my sweet girl. If any one despairs, it should be I, Who loved him once, and now must live with him Till God in pity call for him or me. For you may, like your sister, find some husband, And smile, years hence, with children round your knees; Whilst I, then dead, and all this hideous coil, Shall be remembered only as a dream. Beatrice. Talk not to me, dear lady, of a husband. Did you not nurse me when my mother died? |