No More Learning

LUCRETIA:
Horrible thought! _140

CENCI:
That if she ever have a child; and thou,
Quick Nature! I adjure thee by thy God,
That thou be fruitful in her, and increase
And multiply, fulfilling his command,
And my deep imprecation! May it be _145
A hideous likeness of herself, that as
From a distorting mirror, she may see
Her image mixed with what she most abhors,
Smiling upon her from her nursing breast.
And that the child may from its infancy _150
Grow, day by day, more wicked and deformed,
Turning her mother's love to misery:
And that both she and it may live until
It shall repay her care and pain with hate,
Or what may else be more unnatural. _155
So he may hunt her through the clamorous scoffs
Of the loud world to a dishonoured grave.
Shall I revoke this curse? Go, bid her come,
Before my words are chronicled in Heaven.
[EXIT LUCRETIA. ]
I do not feel as if I were a man, _160
But like a fiend appointed to chastise
The offences of some unremembered world.
My blood is running up and down my veins;
A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle:
I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; _165
My heart is beating with an expectation
Of horrid joy.
[ENTER LUCRETIA. ]
What? Speak!

LUCRETIA:
She bids thee curse;
And if thy curses, as they cannot do,
Could kill her soul. . .

CENCI:
She would not come. 'Tis well,
I can do both; first take what I demand, _170
And then extort concession. To thy chamber!
Fly ere I spurn thee; and beware this night
That thou cross not my footsteps. It were safer
To come between the tiger and his prey.
[EXIT LUCRETIA. ]
It must be late; mine eyes grow weary dim _175
With unaccustomed heaviness of sleep.
Conscience! Oh, thou most insolent of lies!
They say that sleep, that healing dew of Heaven,
Steeps not in balm the foldings of the brain
Which thinks thee an impostor. I will go _180
First to belie thee with an hour of rest,
Which will be deep and calm, I feel: and then. . .
O, multitudinous Hell, the fiends will shake
Thine arches with the laughter of their joy!
There shall be lamentation heard in Heaven _185
As o'er an angel fallen; and upon Earth
All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things
Shall with a spirit of unnatural life,
Stir and be quickened. . . even as I am now.

[EXIT. ]

SCENE 4. 2:
BEFORE THE CASTLE OF PETRELLA.
ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA ABOVE ON THE RAMPARTS.

BEATRICE:
They come not yet.

LUCRETIA:
'Tis scarce midnight.

BEATRICE:
How slow
Behind the course of thought, even sick with speed,
Lags leaden-footed time!

LUCRETIA:
The minutes pass. . .
If he should wake before the deed is done?

BEATRICE:
O, mother! He must never wake again. _5
What thou hast said persuades me that our act
Will but dislodge a spirit of deep hell
Out of a human form.

LUCRETIA:
'Tis true he spoke
Of death and judgement with strange confidence
For one so wicked; as a man believing _10
In God, yet recking not of good or ill.
And yet to die without confession! . . .

BEATRICE:
Oh!
Believe that Heaven is merciful and just,
And will not add our dread necessity
To the amount of his offences.

[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO BELOW. ]

LUCRETIA:
See, _15
They come.

BEATRICE:
All mortal things must hasten thus
To their dark end. Let us go down.

[EXEUNT LUCRETIA AND BEATRICE FROM ABOVE. ]

OLIMPIO:
How feel you to this work?

MARZIO:
As one who thinks
A thousand crowns excellent market price
For an old murderer's life. Your cheeks are pale. _20

OLIMPIO:
It is the white reflection of your own,
Which you call pale.

MARZIO:
Is that their natural hue?

OLIMPIO:
Or 'tis my hate and the deferred desire
To wreak it, which extinguishes their blood.

MARZIO:
You are inclined then to this business?

OLIMPIO:
Ay, _25
If one should bribe me with a thousand crowns
To kill a serpent which had stung my child,
I could not be more willing.
[ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA BELOW. ]
Noble ladies!

BEATRICE:
Are ye resolved?

OLIMPIO:
Is he asleep?

MARZIO:
Is all
Quiet?

LUCRETIA:
I mixed an opiate with his drink: _30
He sleeps so soundly. . .

BEATRICE:
That his death will be
But as a change of sin-chastising dreams,
A dark continuance of the Hell within him,
Which God extinguish! But ye are resolved?
Ye know it is a high and holy deed? _35

OLIMPIO:
We are resolved.

MARZIO:
As to the how this act
Be warranted, it rests with you.

BEATRICE:
Well, follow!

OLIMPIO:
Hush! Hark! What noise is that?

MARZIO:
Ha! some one comes!

BEATRICE:
Ye conscience-stricken cravens, rock to rest
Your baby hearts. It is the iron gate, _40
Which ye left open, swinging to the wind,
That enters whistling as in scorn. Come, follow!
And be your steps like mine, light, quick and bold.

[EXEUNT. ]

SCENE 4. 3:
AN APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE.
ENTER BEATRICE AND LUCRETIA.

LUCRETIA:
They are about it now.

BEATRICE:
Nay, it is done.

LUCRETIA:
I have not heard him groan.

BEATRICE:
He will not groan.

LUCRETIA:
What sound is that?

BEATRICE:
List! 'tis the tread of feet
About his bed.

LUCRETIA:
My God!
If he be now a cold, stiff corpse. . .

BEATRICE:
O, fear not _5
What may be done, but what is left undone:
The act seals all.
[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO. ]
Is it accomplished?

MARZIO:
What?

OLIMPIO:
Did you not call?

BEATRICE:
When?

OLIMPIO:
Now.

BEATRICE:
I ask if all is over?

OLIMPIO:
We dare not kill an old and sleeping man;
His thin gray hair, his stern and reverend brow, _10
His veined hands crossed on his heaving breast,
And the calm innocent sleep in which he lay,
Quelled me. Indeed, indeed, I cannot do it.

NOTE:
_10 reverend]reverent all editions.

MARZIO:
But I was bolder; for I chid Olimpio,
And bade him bear his wrongs to his own grave _15
And leave me the reward. And now my knife
Touched the loose wrinkled throat, when the old man
Stirred in his sleep, and said, 'God! hear, O, hear,
A father's curse! What, art Thou not our Father? '
And then he laughed. I knew it was the ghost _20
Of my dead father speaking through his lips,
And could not kill him.

BEATRICE:
Miserable slaves!
Where, if ye dare not kill a sleeping man,
Found ye the boldness to return to me
With such a deed undone? Base palterers! _25
Cowards and traitors! Why, the very conscience
Which ye would sell for gold and for revenge
Is an equivocation: it sleeps over
A thousand daily acts disgracing men;
And when a deed where mercy insults Heaven. . . _30
Why do I talk?
[SNATCHING A DAGGER FROM ONE OF THEM, AND RAISING IT. ]
Hadst thou a tongue to say,
'She murdered her own father! '--I must do it!
But never dream ye shall outlive him long!

OLIMPIO:
Stop, for God's sake!

MARZIO:
I will go back and kill him.

OLIMPIO:
Give me the weapon, we must do thy will. _35

BEATRICE:
Take it! Depart! Return!
[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO. ]
How pale thou art!
We do but that which 'twere a deadly crime
To leave undone.

LUCRETIA:
Would it were done!

BEATRICE:
Even whilst
That doubt is passing through your mind, the world
Is conscious of a change. Darkness and Hell _40
Have swallowed up the vapour they sent forth
To blacken the sweet light of life. My breath
Comes, methinks, lighter, and the jellied blood
Runs freely through my veins. Hark!
[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO. ]
He is. . .

OLIMPIO:
Dead!

MARZIO:
We strangled him that there might be no blood; _45
And then we threw his heavy corpse i' the garden
Under the balcony; 'twill seem it fell.

BEATRICE [GIVING THEM A BAG OF COIN]:
Here, take this gold, and hasten to your homes.
And, Marzio, because thou wast only awed
By that which made me tremble, wear thou this! _50
[CLOTHES HIM IN A RICH MANTLE. ]
It was the mantle which my grandfather
Wore in his high prosperity, and men
Envied his state: so may they envy thine.
Thou wert a weapon in the hand of God
To a just use. Live long and thrive! And, mark, _55
If thou hast crimes, repent: this deed is none.

[A HORN IS SOUNDED. ]

LUCRETIA:
Hark, 'tis the castle horn: my God! it sounds
Like the last trump.

BEATRICE:
Some tedious guest is coming.

LUCRETIA:
The drawbridge is let down; there is a tramp
Of horses in the court; fly, hide yourselves! _60

[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO. ]

BEATRICE:
Let us retire to counterfeit deep rest;
I scarcely need to counterfeit it now:
The spirit which doth reign within these limbs
Seems strangely undisturbed. I could even sleep
Fearless and calm: all ill is surely past. _65

[EXEUNT. ]

SCENE 4. 4:
ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE.
ENTER ON ONE SIDE THE LEGATE SAVELLA,
INTRODUCED BY A SERVANT,
AND ON THE OTHER LUCRETIA AND BERNARDO.

SAVELLA:
Lady, my duty to his Holiness
Be my excuse that thus unseasonably
I break upon your rest. I must speak with
Count Cenci; doth he sleep?

LUCRETIA [IN A HURRIED AND CONFUSED MANNER]:
I think he sleeps;
Yet, wake him not, I pray, spare me awhile, _5
He is a wicked and a wrathful man;
Should he be roused out of his sleep to-night,
Which is, I know, a hell of angry dreams,
It were not well; indeed it were not well.
Wait till day break. . .
[ASIDE. ]
Oh, I am deadly sick! _10

NOTE:
_6 a wrathful edition 1821; wrathful editions 1819, 1839.

SAVELLA:
I grieve thus to distress you, but the Count
Must answer charges of the gravest import,
And suddenly; such my commission is.

LUCRETIA [WITH INCREASED AGITATION]:
I dare not rouse him: I know none who dare. . .
'Twere perilous;. . . you might as safely waken _15
A serpent; or a corpse in which some fiend
Were laid to sleep.

SAVELLA:
Lady, my moments here
Are counted. I must rouse him from his sleep,
Since none else dare.

LUCRETIA [ASIDE]:
O, terror! O, despair!
[TO BERNARDO. ]
Bernardo, conduct you the Lord Legate to _20
Your father's chamber.

[EXEUNT SAVELLA AND BERNARDO. ]

[ENTER BEATRICE.
]

BEATRICE:
'Tis a messenger
Come to arrest the culprit who now stands
Before the throne of unappealable God.
Both Earth and Heaven, consenting arbiters,
Acquit our deed.

LUCRETIA:
Oh, agony of fear! _25
Would that he yet might live! Even now I heard
The Legate's followers whisper as they passed
They had a warrant for his instant death.
All was prepared by unforbidden means
Which we must pay so dearly, having done. _30
Even now they search the tower, and find the body;
Now they suspect the truth; now they consult
Before they come to tax us with the fact;
O, horrible, 'tis all discovered!

BEATRICE:
Mother,
What is done wisely, is done well. Be bold _35
As thou art just. 'Tis like a truant child
To fear that others know what thou hast done,
Even from thine own strong consciousness, and thus
Write on unsteady eyes and altered cheeks
All thou wouldst hide. Be faithful to thyself, _40
And fear no other witness but thy fear.
For if, as cannot be, some circumstance
Should rise in accusation, we can blind
Suspicion with such cheap astonishment,
Or overbear it with such guiltless pride, _45
As murderers cannot feign. The deed is done,
And what may follow now regards not me.
I am as universal as the light;
Free as the earth-surrounding air; as firm
As the world's centre. Consequence, to me, _50
Is as the wind which strikes the solid rock,
But shakes it not.

[A CRY WITHIN AND TUMULT. ]

VOICES:
Murder! Murder! Murder!

[ENTER BERNARDO AND SAVELLA. ]

SAVELLA [TO HIS FOLLOWERS]:
Go search the castle round; sound the alarm;
Look to the gates, that none escape!

BEATRICE:
What now?

BERNARDO:
I know not what to say. . . my father's dead. _55

BEATRICE:
How; dead! he only sleeps; you mistake, brother.
His sleep is very calm, very like death;
'Tis wonderful how well a tyrant sleeps.
He is not dead?

BERNARDO:
Dead; murdered.

LUCRETIA [WITH EXTREME AGITATION]:
Oh no, no!
He is not murdered though he may be dead; _60
I have alone the keys of those apartments.

SAVELLA:
Ha! Is it so?

BEATRICE:
My Lord, I pray excuse us;
We will retire; my mother is not well:
She seems quite overcome with this strange horror.

[EXEUNT LUCRETIA AND BEATRICE. ]

SAVELLA:
Can you suspect who may have murdered him? _65

BERNARDO:
I know not what to think.

SAVELLA:
Can you name any
Who had an interest in his death?

BERNARDO:
Alas!
I can name none who had not, and those most
Who most lament that such a deed is done;
My mother, and my sister, and myself. _70

SAVELLA:
'Tis strange! There were clear marks of violence.
I found the old man's body in the moonlight
Hanging beneath the window of his chamber,
Among the branches of a pine: he could not
Have fallen there, for all his limbs lay heaped _75
And effortless; 'tis true there was no blood. . .
Favour me, Sir; it much imports your house
That all should be made clear; to tell the ladies
That I request their presence.

[EXIT BERNARDO. ]

[ENTER GUARDS, BRINGING IN MARZIO. ]

GUARD:
We have one.

OFFICER:
My Lord, we found this ruffian and another _80
Lurking among the rocks; there is no doubt
But that they are the murderers of Count Cenci:
Each had a bag of coin; this fellow wore
A gold-inwoven robe, which, shining bright
Under the dark rocks to the glimmering moon _85
Betrayed them to our notice: the other fell
Desperately fighting.

SAVELLA:
What does he confess?

OFFICER:
He keeps firm silence; but these lines found on him
May speak.

SAVELLA:
Their language is at least sincere.
[READS. ]
'To the Lady Beatrice. _90
That the atonement of what my nature sickens to conjecture may soon
arrive, I send thee, at thy brother's desire, those who will speak and
do more than I dare write. . .
'Thy devoted servant, Orsino. '
[ENTER LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, AND BERNARDO. ]
Knowest thou this writing, Lady?

BEATRICE:
No.

SAVELLA:
Nor thou? _95

LUCRETIA [HER CONDUCT THROUGHOUT THE SCENE IS MARKED BY EXTREME AGITATION]:
Where was it found? What is it? It should be
Orsino's hand! It speaks of that strange horror
Which never yet found utterance, but which made
Between that hapless child and her dead father
A gulf of obscure hatred.

SAVELLA:
Is it so? _100
Is it true, Lady, that thy father did
Such outrages as to awaken in thee
Unfilial hate?

BEATRICE:
Not hate, 'twas more than hate:
This is most true, yet wherefore question me?

SAVELLA:
There is a deed demanding question done; _105
Thou hast a secret which will answer not.

BEATRICE:
What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold and rash.

SAVELLA:
I do arrest all present in the name
Of the Pope's Holiness. You must to Rome.

LUCRETIA:
O, not to Rome! Indeed we are not guilty. _110

BEATRICE:
Guilty! Who dares talk of guilt? My Lord,
I am more innocent of parricide
Than is a child born fatherless. . . Dear mother,
Your gentleness and patience are no shield
For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie, _115
Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws,
Rather will ye who are their ministers,
Bar all access to retribution first,
And then, when Heaven doth interpose to do
What ye neglect, arming familiar things _120
To the redress of an unwonted crime,
Make ye the victims who demanded it
Culprits? 'Tis ye are culprits! That poor wretch
Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed,
If it be true he murdered Cenci, was _125
A sword in the right hand of justest God.
Wherefore should I have wielded it? Unless
The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name
God therefore scruples to avenge.

SAVELLA:
You own
That you desired his death?

BEATRICE:
It would have been _130
A crime no less than his, if for one moment
That fierce desire had faded in my heart.
'Tis true I did believe, and hope, and pray,
Ay, I even knew. . . for God is wise and just,
That some strange sudden death hung over him. _135
'Tis true that this did happen, and most true
There was no other rest for me on earth,
No other hope in Heaven. . . now what of this?

SAVELLA:
Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here are both:
I judge thee not.

BEATRICE:
And yet, if you arrest me, _140
You are the judge and executioner
Of that which is the life of life: the breath
Of accusation kills an innocent name,
And leaves for lame acquittal the poor life
Which is a mask without it. 'Tis most false _145
That I am guilty of foul parricide;
Although I must rejoice, for justest cause,
That other hands have sent my father's soul
To ask the mercy he denied to me.
Now leave us free; stain not a noble house _150
With vague surmises of rejected crime;
Add to our sufferings and your own neglect
No heavier sum: let them have been enough:
Leave us the wreck we have.

SAVELLA:
I dare not, Lady.
I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome: _155
There the Pope's further pleasure will be known.

LUCRETIA:
O, not to Rome! O, take us not to Rome!

BEATRICE:
Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as here
Our innocence is as an armed heel
To trample accusation. God is there _160
As here, and with His shadow ever clothes
The innocent, the injured and the weak;
And such are we. Cheer up, dear Lady, lean
On me; collect your wandering thoughts. My Lord,
As soon as you have taken some refreshment, _165
And had all such examinations made
Upon the spot, as may be necessary
To the full understanding of this matter,
We shall be ready. Mother; will you come?

LUCRETIA:
Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest _170
Self-accusation from our agony!
Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio?
All present; all confronted; all demanding
Each from the other's countenance the thing
Which is in every heart! O, misery! _175

[SHE FAINTS, AND IS BORNE OUT. ]

SAVELLA:
She faints: an ill appearance this.

BEATRICE:
My Lord,
She knows not yet the uses of the world.
She fears that power is as a beast which grasps
And loosens not: a snake whose look transmutes
All things to guilt which is its nutriment. _180
She cannot know how well the supine slaves
Of blind authority read the truth of things
When written on a brow of guilelessness:
She sees not yet triumphant Innocence
Stand at the judgement-seat of mortal man, _185
A judge and an accuser of the wrong
Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord;
Our suite will join yours in the court below.

[EXEUNT. ]

END OF ACT 4.


ACT 5.

SCENE 5. 1:
AN APARTMENT IN ORSINO'S PALACE.
ENTER ORSINO AND GIACOMO.

GIACOMO:
Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end?
O, that the vain remorse which must chastise
Crimes done, had but as loud a voice to warn
As its keen sting is mortal to avenge!
O, that the hour when present had cast off _5
The mantle of its mystery, and shown
The ghastly form with which it now returns
When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds
Of conscience to their prey! Alas! Alas!
It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed, _10
To kill an old and hoary-headed father.

ORSINO:
It has turned out unluckily, in truth.

GIACOMO:
To violate the sacred doors of sleep;
To cheat kind Nature of the placid death
Which she prepares for overwearied age; _15
To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul
Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers
A life of burning crimes. . .

ORSINO:
You cannot say
I urged you to the deed.

GIACOMO:
O, had I never
Found in thy smooth and ready countenance _20
The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou
Never with hints and questions made me look
Upon the monster of my thought, until
It grew familiar to desire. . .

ORSINO:
'Tis thus
Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts _25
Upon the abettors of their own resolve;
Or anything but their weak, guilty selves.
And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril
In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness
Of penitence; confess 'tis fear disguised _30
From its own shame that takes the mantle now
Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe?

GIACOMO:
How can that be? Already Beatrice,
Lucretia and the murderer are in prison.
I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak, _35
Sent to arrest us.

ORSINO:
I have all prepared
For instant flight. We can escape even now,
So we take fleet occasion by the hair.

GIACOMO:
Rather expire in tortures, as I may.
What! will you cast by self-accusing flight _40
Assured conviction upon Beatrice?
She, who alone in this unnatural work,
Stands like God's angel ministered upon
By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong
As turns black parricide to piety; _45
Whilst we for basest ends. . . I fear, Orsino,
While I consider all your words and looks,
Comparing them with your proposal now,
That you must be a villain. For what end
Could you engage in such a perilous crime, _50
Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles,
Even to this gulf? Thou art no liar? No,
Thou art a lie! Traitor and murderer!
Coward and slave! But no, defend thyself;
[DRAWING. ]
Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue _55
Disdains to brand thee with.

ORSINO:
Put up your weapon.
Is it the desperation of your fear
Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend,
Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger
Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed _60
Was but to try you. As for me, I think,
Thankless affection led me to this point,
From which, if my firm temper could repent,
I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak
The ministers of justice wait below: _65
They grant me these brief moments. Now if you
Have any word of melancholy comfort
To speak to your pale wife, 'twere best to pass
Out at the postern, and avoid them so.

NOTE:
_58 a friend edition 1821; your friend edition 1839.

GIACOMO:
O, generous friend! How canst thou pardon me? _70
Would that my life could purchase thine!

ORSINO:
That wish
Now comes a day too late. Haste; fare thee well!
Hear'st thou not steps along the corridor?
[EXIT GIACOMO. ]
I'm sorry for it; but the guards are waiting
At his own gate, and such was my contrivance _75
That I might rid me both of him and them.
I thought to act a solemn comedy
Upon the painted scene of this new world,
And to attain my own peculiar ends
By some such plot of mingled good and ill _80
As others weave; but there arose a Power
Which grasped and snapped the threads of my device
And turned it to a net of ruin. . . Ha!
[A SHOUT IS HEARD. ]
Is that my name I hear proclaimed abroad?
But I will pass, wrapped in a vile disguise; _85
Rags on my back, and a false innocence
Upon my face, through the misdeeming crowd
Which judges by what seems. 'Tis easy then
For a new name and for a country new,
And a new life, fashioned on old desires, _90
To change the honours of abandoned Rome.
And these must be the masks of that within,
Which must remain unaltered. . . Oh, I fear
That what is past will never let me rest!
Why, when none else is conscious, but myself, _95
Of my misdeeds, should my own heart's contempt
Trouble me? Have I not the power to fly
My own reproaches? Shall I be the slave
Of. .