The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 45

CAMILLO: A bitter wish for one so young and gentle.

Can we do nothing?

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! _145

BEATRICE: Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more!

Wouldst thou have honour and obedience Who art a torturer? Father, never dream, Though thou mayst overbear this company, _150 But ill must come of ill.--Frown not on me!

Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks My brothers' ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat!

Cover thy face from every living eye, And start if thou but hear a human step: _155 Seek out some dark and silent corner, there, Bow thy white head before offended G.o.d, And we will kneel around, and fervently Pray that he pity both ourselves and thee.

CENCI: My friends, I do lament this insane girl _160 Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity.

Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels.

Another time.-- [EXEUNT ALL BUT CENCI AND BEATRICE.]

My brain is swimming round; Give me a bowl of wine!

[TO BEATRICE.]

Thou painted viper! _165 Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible!

I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame, Now get thee from my sight!

[EXIT BEATRICE.]

Here, Andrea, Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said I would not drink this evening; but I must; _170 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 villainy; _175 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.]

END OF ACT 1.

ACT 2.

SCENE 2.1: 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 G.o.d Almighty, do Thou look upon us, We have no other friend but only Thee! _5 Yet weep not; though I love you as my own, I am not your true mother.

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! _10

LUCRETIA: Alas! Poor boy, what else couldst thou have done?

[ENTER BEATRICE.]

BEATRICE [IN A HURRIED VOICE]: Did he pa.s.s 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 _15 A duteous child, now save me! Thou, great G.o.d, Whose image upon earth a father is, Dost thou indeed abandon me? He comes; The door is opening now; I see his face; He frowns on others, but he smiles on me, _20 Even as he did after the feast last night.

[ENTER A SERVANT.]

Almighty G.o.d, how merciful Thou art!

'Tis but Orsino's servant.--Well, what news?

SERVANT: My master bids me say, the Holy Father Has sent back your pet.i.tion thus unopened. _25 [GIVING A PAPER.]

And he demands at what hour 'twere secure To visit you again?

LUCRETIA: At the Ave Mary.

[EXIT SERVANT.]

So, daughter, our last hope has failed. Ah me!

How pale you look; you tremble, and you stand Wrapped in some fixed and fearful meditation, _30 As if one thought were over strong for you: Your eyes have a chill glare; O, dearest child!

Are you gone mad? If not, pray speak to me.

BEATRICE: You see I am not mad: I speak to you.

LUCRETIA: You talked of something that your father did _35 After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse Than when he smiled, and cried, 'My sons are dead!'

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 _40 Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance; And when it pa.s.sed I sat all weak and wild; Whilst you alone stood up, and with strong words Checked his unnatural pride; and I could see The devil was rebuked that lives in him. _45 Until this hour thus you have ever stood Between us and your father's moody wrath Like a protecting presence; your firm mind Has been our only refuge and defence: What can have thus subdued it? What can now _50 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 b.l.o.o.d.y, _55 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 _60 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.

[WILDLY.]

Oh! He has trampled me Under his feet, and made the blood stream down _65 My pallid cheeks. And he has given us all Ditch-water, and the fever-stricken flesh Of buffaloes, and bade us eat or starve, And we have eaten.--He has made me look On my beloved Bernardo, when the rust _70 Of heavy chains has gangrened his sweet limbs, And I have never yet despaired--but now!

What could I say?

[RECOVERING HERSELF.]

Ah, no! 'tis nothing new.

The sufferings we all share have made me wild: He only struck and cursed me as he pa.s.sed; _75 He said, he looked, he did;--nothing at all Beyond his wont, yet it disordered me.

Alas! I am forgetful of my duty, I should preserve my senses for your sake.

LUCRETIA: Nay, Beatrice; have courage, my sweet girl. _80 If any one despairs it should be I Who loved him once, and now must live with him Till G.o.d 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; _85 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?

Did you not s.h.i.+eld me and that dearest boy? _90 And had we any other friend but you In infancy, with gentle words and looks, To win our father not to murder us?

And shall I now desert you? May the ghost Of my dead Mother plead against my soul _95 If I abandon her who filled the place She left, with more, even, than a mother's love!

BERNARDO: And I am of my sister's mind. Indeed I would not leave you in this wretchedness, Even though the Pope should make me free to live _100 In some blithe place, like others of my age, With sports, and delicate food, and the fresh air.

Oh, never think that I will leave you, Mother!

LUCRETIA: My dear, dear children!

[ENTER CENCI, SUDDENLY.]

CENCI: What! Beatrice here!

Come hither!