My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart, _65
And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul,
Which weeps within tears as of burning gall
To see, in this ill world where none are true,
My kindred false to their deserted selves.
And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul,
Which weeps within tears as of burning gall
To see, in this ill world where none are true,
My kindred false to their deserted selves.
Shelley
Brother, lie down with me upon the rack,
And let us each be silent as a corpse;
It soon will be as soft as any grave. _50
'Tis but the falsehood it can wring from fear
Makes the rack cruel.
GIACOMO:
They will tear the truth
Even from thee at last, those cruel pains:
For pity's sake say thou art guilty now.
LUCRETIA:
Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die; _55
And after death, God is our judge, not they;
He will have mercy on us.
BERNARDO:
If indeed
It can be true, say so, dear sister mine;
And then the Pope will surely pardon you,
And all be well.
JUDGE:
Confess, or I will warp _60
Your limbs with such keen tortures. . .
BEATRICE:
Tortures! Turn
The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel!
Torture your dog, that he may tell when last
He lapped the blood his master shed. . . not me!
My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart, _65
And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul,
Which weeps within tears as of burning gall
To see, in this ill world where none are true,
My kindred false to their deserted selves.
And with considering all the wretched life _70
Which I have lived, and its now wretched end,
And the small justice shown by Heaven and Earth
To me or mine; and what a tyrant thou art,
And what slaves these; and what a world we make,
The oppressor and the oppressed. . . such pangs compel _75
My answer. What is it thou wouldst with me?
JUDGE:
Art thou not guilty of thy father's death?
BEATRICE:
Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God
That He permitted such an act as that
Which I have suffered, and which He beheld; _80
Made it unutterable, and took from it
All refuge, all revenge, all consequence,
But that which thou hast called my father's death?
Which is or is not what men call a crime,
Which either I have done, or have not done; _85
Say what ye will. I shall deny no more.
If ye desire it thus, thus let it be,
And so an end of all. Now do your will;
No other pains shall force another word.
JUDGE:
She is convicted, but has not confessed. _90
Be it enough. Until their final sentence
Let none have converse with them. You, young Lord,
Linger not here!
