1:
AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE.
AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE.
Shelley
There is no escape.
.
.
Her bright form kneels beside me at the altar,
And follows me to the resort of men,
And fills my slumber with tumultuous dreams, _135
So when I wake my blood seems liquid fire;
And if I strike my damp and dizzy head
My hot palm scorches it: her very name,
But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart
Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably _140
I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights
Till weak imagination half possesses
The self-created shadow. Yet much longer
Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours:
From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo _145
I must work out my own dear purposes.
I see, as from a tower, the end of all:
Her father dead; her brother bound to me
By a dark secret, surer than the grave;
Her mother scared and unexpostulating _150
From the dread manner of her wish achieved;
And she! --Once more take courage, my faint heart;
What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee?
I have such foresight as assures success:
Some unbeheld divinity doth ever, _155
When dread events are near, stir up men's minds
To black suggestions; and he prospers best,
Not who becomes the instrument of ill,
But who can flatter the dark spirit, that makes
Its empire and its prey of other hearts _160
Till it become his slave. . . as I will do.
[EXIT. ]
END OF ACT 2.
ACT 3.
SCENE 3.
1:
AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE.
LUCRETIA, TO HER ENTER BEATRICE.
BEATRICE [SHE ENTERS STAGGERING AND SPEAKS WILDLY]:
Reach me that handkerchief! --My brain is hurt;
My eyes are full of blood; just wipe them for me. . .
I see but indistinctly. . .
LUCRETIA:
My sweet child,
You have no wound; 'tis only a cold dew
That starts from your dear brow. --Alas! Alas! _5
What has befallen?
BEATRICE:
How comes this hair undone?
Its wandering strings must be what blind me so,
And yet I tied it fast. --Oh, horrible!
Her bright form kneels beside me at the altar,
And follows me to the resort of men,
And fills my slumber with tumultuous dreams, _135
So when I wake my blood seems liquid fire;
And if I strike my damp and dizzy head
My hot palm scorches it: her very name,
But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart
Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably _140
I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights
Till weak imagination half possesses
The self-created shadow. Yet much longer
Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours:
From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo _145
I must work out my own dear purposes.
I see, as from a tower, the end of all:
Her father dead; her brother bound to me
By a dark secret, surer than the grave;
Her mother scared and unexpostulating _150
From the dread manner of her wish achieved;
And she! --Once more take courage, my faint heart;
What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee?
I have such foresight as assures success:
Some unbeheld divinity doth ever, _155
When dread events are near, stir up men's minds
To black suggestions; and he prospers best,
Not who becomes the instrument of ill,
But who can flatter the dark spirit, that makes
Its empire and its prey of other hearts _160
Till it become his slave. . . as I will do.
[EXIT. ]
END OF ACT 2.
ACT 3.
SCENE 3.
1:
AN APARTMENT IN THE CENCI PALACE.
LUCRETIA, TO HER ENTER BEATRICE.
BEATRICE [SHE ENTERS STAGGERING AND SPEAKS WILDLY]:
Reach me that handkerchief! --My brain is hurt;
My eyes are full of blood; just wipe them for me. . .
I see but indistinctly. . .
LUCRETIA:
My sweet child,
You have no wound; 'tis only a cold dew
That starts from your dear brow. --Alas! Alas! _5
What has befallen?
BEATRICE:
How comes this hair undone?
Its wandering strings must be what blind me so,
And yet I tied it fast. --Oh, horrible!
