And they forebode, — but what can they forebode
Worse than I now endure?
ORSINO
All will be well.
Is the petition yet prepared? You know
My zeal for all you wish, sweet Beatrice; 40
Doubt not but I will use my utmost skill
So that the Pope attend to your complaint.
BEATRICE
Your zeal for all I wish. Ah me, you are cold!
Your utmost skill — speak but one word —
(Aside) Alas!
Weak and deserted creature that I am,
Here I stand bickering with my only friend!
(To ORSINO)
This night my father gives a sumptuous feast,
Orsino; he has heard some happy news
From Salamanca, from my brothers there,
And with this outward show of love he mocks 50
His inward hate. ‘T is bold hypocrisy,
For he would gladlier celebrate their deaths,
Which I have heard him pray for on his knees.
Great God! that such a father should be mine!
But there is mighty preparation made,
And all our kin, the Cenci, will be there,
And all the chief nobility of Rome.
And he has bidden me and my pale mother
Attire ourselves in festival array.
Poor lady! she expects some happy change 60
In his dark spirit from this act; I none.
At supper I will give you the petition;
Till when — farewell.
ORSINO
Farewell.
[Exit BEATRICE.
I know the Pope
Will ne’er absolve me from my priestly vow
But by absolving me from the revenue
Of many a wealthy see; and, Beatrice,
I think to win thee at an easier rate.
Nor shall he read her eloquent petition.
He might bestow her on some poor relation
Of his sixth cousin, as he did her sister, 70
And I should be debarred from all access.
Then as to what she suffers from her father,
In all this there is much exaggeration.
Old men are testy, and will have their way.
A man may stab his enemy, or his vassal,
And live a free life as to wine or women,
And with a peevish temper may return
To a dull home, and rate his wife and children;
Daughters and wives call this foul tyranny.
I shall be well content if on my conscience 80
There rest no heavier sin than what they suffer
From the devices of my love — a net
From which he shall escape not. Yet I fear
Her subtle mind, her awe-inspiring gaze,
Whose beams anatomize me, nerve by nerve,
And lay me bare, and make me blush to see
My hidden thoughts. — Ah, no! a friendless girl
Who clings to me, as to her only hope!
I were a fool, not less than if a panther
Were panic-stricken by the antelope’s eye, 90
If she escape me.
[Exit.
SCENE III. — A magnificent Hall in the Cenci Palace. A Banquet. Enter CENCI, LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, ORSINO, CAMILLO, NOBLES.
CENCI
Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye,
Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church,
Whose presence honors our festivity.
I have too long lived like an anchorite,
And in my absence from your merry meetings
An evil word is gone abroad of me;
But I do hope that you, my noble friends,
When you have shared the entertainment here,
And heard the pious cause for which ‘t is given,
And we have pledged a health or two together, 10
Will think me flesh and blood as well as you;
Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so,
But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful.
FIRST GUEST
In truth, my Lord, you seem too light of heart,
Too sprightly and companionable a man,
To act the deeds that rumor pins on you.
[To his companion.
I never saw such blithe and open cheer
In any eye!
SECOND GUEST
Some most desired event,
In which we all demand a common joy,
Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count. 20
CENCI
It is indeed a most desired event.
If when a parent from a parent’s heart
Lifts from this earth to the great Father of all
A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep,
And when he rises up from dreaming it;
That he would grant a wish for his two sons,
Even all that he demands in their regard,
And suddenly beyond his dearest hope
It is accomplished, he should then rejoice, 30
And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast,
And task their love to grace his merriment, —
Then honor me thus far, for I am he.
BEATRICE (to LUCRETIA)
Great God! How horrible! some dreadful ill
Must have befallen my brothers.
LUCRETIA
Fear not, child,
He speaks too frankly.
BEATRICE
Ah! My blood runs cold.
I fear that wicked laughter round his eye,
Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair.
CENCI
Here are the letters brought from Salamanca.
Beatrice, read them to your mother. God! 40
I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform,
By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought.
My disobedient and rebellious sons
Are dead! — Why, dead! — What means this change of cheer?
You hear me not — I tell you they are dead;
And they will need no food or raiment more;
The tapers that did light them the dark way
Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not
Expect I should maintain them in their coffins.
Rejoice with me — my heart is wondrous glad. 50
BEATRICE (LUCRETIA sinks, half fainting; BEATRICE supports her)
It is not true! — Dear Lady, pray look up.
Had it been true — there is a God in Heaven —
He would not live to boast of such a boon.
Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false.
CENCI
Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call
To witness that I speak the sober truth;
And whose most favoring providence was shown
Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco
Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others,
When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy; 60
The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano
Was stabbed in error by a jealous man,
Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival,
All in the self-same hour of the same night;
Which shows that Heaven has special care of me.
I beg those friends who love me that they mark
The day a feast upon their calendars.
It was the twenty-seventh of December.
Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath.
[The assembly appears confused; several of the guests rise.
FIRST GUEST
Oh, horrible! I will depart.
SECOND GUEST
And I.
THIRD GUEST
No, stay! 70
I do believe it is some jest; though, faith!
‘T is mocking us somewhat too solemnly.
I think his son has married the Infanta,
&n
bsp; Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado.
‘T is but to season some such news; stay, stay!
I see ‘t is only raillery by his smile.
CENCI (filling a bowl of wine, and lifting it up)
O thou bright wine, whose purple splendor leaps
And bubbles gayly in this golden bowl
Under the lamp-light, as my spirits do,
To hear the death of my accursèd sons! 80
Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood,
Then would I taste thee like a sacrament,
And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell,
Who, if a father’s curses, as men say,
Climb with swift wings after their children’s souls,
And drag them from the very throne of Heaven,
Now triumphs in my triumph! — But thou art
Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy,
And I will taste no other wine to-night.
Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around. 90
A GUEST (rising)
Thou wretch!
Will none among this noble company
Check the abandoned villain?
CAMILLO
For God’s sake,
Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane.
Some ill will come of this.
SECOND GUEST
Seize, silence him!
FIRST GUEST
I will!
THIRD GUEST
And I!
CENCI (addressing those who rise with a threatening gesture)
Who moves? Who speaks?
‘T is 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 100
Stand sheltered by a father’s hoary hair?
What if ‘t is he who clothed us in these limbs
Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we,
The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh,
His children and his wife, whom he is bound
To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find
No refuge in this merciless wide world?
Oh, think what deep wrongs must have blotted out
First love, then reverence, in a child’s prone mind,
Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! Oh, think! 110
I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand
Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke
Was perhaps some paternal chastisement!
Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt
Remained, have sought by patience, love and tears
To soften him; and when this could not be,
I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights,
And lifted up to God, the father of all,
Passionate prayers; and when these were not heard,
I have still borne, — until I meet you here, 120
Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast
Given at my brothers’ deaths. Two yet remain;
His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not,
Ye may soon share such merriment again
As fathers make over their children’s graves.
Oh! Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman;
Cardinal, thou art the Pope’s chamberlain;
Camillo, thou art chief justiciary;
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 130
Of their own throats — before they lend an ear
To this wild girl.
BEATRICE (not noticing the words of CENCI)
Dare no one look on me?
None answer? Can one tyrant overbear
The sense of many best and wisest men?
Or is it that I sue not in some form
Of scrupulous law that ye deny my suit?
Oh, God! that I were buried with my brothers!
And that the flowers of this departed spring
Were fading on my grave! and that my father
Were celebrating now one feast for all! 140
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!
BEATRICE
Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself
Where never eye can look upon thee more!
Wouldst thou have honor 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;
Seek out some dark and silent corner — there
Bow thy white head before offended God,
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 spoiled 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!
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;
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,
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 pass this way? Have you seen him, brother?
Ah, no! that is his step upon the stairs;
‘T is 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,
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 God, how merciful thou art!
‘T is but Orsino’s servant. — Well, what news?
SERVANT
My master bids me say the Holy Father
Has sent back your petition thus unopened.
(Giving a paper)
And he demands at what hour ‘t were 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 overstrong for you;
Your eyes have a chill glare; oh, 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
After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse
Than when he smiled, and cried, ‘My sons are dead!’
And every one looked in his neighbor’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 passed 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.
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
‘T were better not to struggle any more.
Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody;
Yet never — oh! before worse comes of it,
‘T were 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 accursèd 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)