No More Learning

BEATRICE:
Ay, death. . . _125
The punishment of crime. I pray thee, God,
Let me not be bewildered while I judge.
If I must live day after day, and keep
These limbs, the unworthy temple of Thy spirit,
As a foul den from which what Thou abhorrest _130
May mock Thee, unavenged. . . it shall not be!
Self-murder. . . no, that might be no escape,
For Thy decree yawns like a Hell between
Our will and it:--O! In this mortal world
There is no vindication and no law _135
Which can adjudge and execute the doom
Of that through which I suffer.
[ENTER ORSINO.
]
[SHE APPROACHES HIM SOLEMNLY. ]
Welcome, Friend!
I have to tell you that, since last we met,
I have endured a wrong so great and strange,
That neither life nor death can give me rest. _140
Ask me not what it is, for there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.

NOTE:
_140 nor edition 1821; or editions 1819, 1839 (1st).

ORSINO:
And what is he who has thus injured you?

BEATRICE:
The man they call my father: a dread name.

ORSINO:
It cannot be. . .

BEATRICE:
What it can be, or not, _145
Forbear to think. It is, and it has been;
Advise me how it shall not be again.
I thought to die; but a religious awe
Restrains me, and the dread lest death itself
Might be no refuge from the consciousness _150
Of what is yet unexpiated. Oh, speak!

ORSINO:
Accuse him of the deed, and let the law
Avenge thee.

BEATRICE:
Oh, ice-hearted counsellor!