No More Learning

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!