No More Learning

I pray thee, God, send some quick death upon them!
Bernardo and my wife could not be worse _135
If dead and damned:--then, as to Beatrice--
[LOOKING AROUND HIM SUSPICIOUSLY. ]
I think they cannot hear me at that door;
What if they should? And yet I need not speak
Though the heart triumphs with itself in words.
O, thou most silent air, that shalt not hear _140
What now I think! Thou, pavement, which I tread
Towards her chamber,--let your echoes talk
Of my imperious step scorning surprise,
But not of my intent! --Andrea!

NOTES:
_131 Whom I had edition 1821; Whom I have editions 1819, 1839.
_140 that shalt edition 1821; that shall editions 1819, 1839.

[ENTER ANDREA. ]

ANDREA:
My lord?

CENCI:
Bid Beatrice attend me in her chamber _145
This evening:--no, at midnight and alone.

[EXEUNT. ]

SCENE 1. 2:
A GARDEN OF THE CENCI PALACE.
ENTER BEATRICE AND ORSINO, AS IN CONVERSATION.

BEATRICE:
Pervert not truth,
Orsino. You remember where we held
That conversation;--nay, we see the spot
Even from this cypress;--two long years are past
Since, on an April midnight, underneath _5
The moonlight ruins of Mount Palatine,
I did confess to you my secret mind.

ORSINO:
You said you loved me then.

BEATRICE:
You are a Priest.
Speak to me not of love.

ORSINO:
I may obtain
The dispensation of the Pope to marry. _10
Because I am a Priest do you believe
Your image, as the hunter some struck deer,
Follows me not whether I wake or sleep?

BEATRICE:
As I have said, speak to me not of love;
Had you a dispensation I have not; _15
Nor will I leave this home of misery
Whilst my poor Bernard, and that gentle lady
To whom I owe life, and these virtuous thoughts,
Must suffer what I still have strength to share.
Alas, Orsino! All the love that once _20
I felt for you, is turned to bitter pain.
Ours was a youthful contract, which you first
Broke, by assuming vows no Pope will loose.
And thus I love you still, but holily,
Even as a sister or a spirit might; _25
And so I swear a cold fidelity.
And it is well perhaps we shall not marry.
You have a sly, equivocating vein
That suits me not. --Ah, wretched that I am!