Beatrice, _365
Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it
With needless tears!
Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it
With needless tears!
Shelley
Are you not my friend?
Did you not hint at the alternative,
Upon the brink of which you see I stand,
The other day when we conversed together?
My wrongs were then less. That word parricide, _340
Although I am resolved, haunts me like fear.
ORSINO:
It must be fear itself, for the bare word
Is hollow mockery. Mark, how wisest God
Draws to one point the threads of a just doom,
So sanctifying it: what you devise _345
Is, as it were, accomplished.
GIACOMO:
Is he dead?
ORSINO:
His grave is ready. Know that since we met
Cenci has done an outrage to his daughter.
GIACOMO:
What outrage?
ORSINO:
That she speaks not, but you may
Conceive such half conjectures as I do, _350
From her fixed paleness, and the lofty grief
Of her stern brow bent on the idle air,
And her severe unmodulated voice,
Drowning both tenderness and dread; and last
From this; that whilst her step-mother and I, _355
Bewildered in our horror, talked together
With obscure hints; both self-misunderstood
And darkly guessing, stumbling, in our talk,
Over the truth, and yet to its revenge,
She interrupted us, and with a look _360
Which told, before she spoke it, he must die:. . .
GIACOMO:
It is enough. My doubts are well appeased;
There is a higher reason for the act
Than mine; there is a holier judge than me,
A more unblamed avenger.
Beatrice, _365
Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it
With needless tears! Fair sister, thou in whom
Men wondered how such loveliness and wisdom _370
Did not destroy each other! Is there made
Ravage of thee? O, heart, I ask no more
Justification! Shall I wait, Orsino,
Till he return, and stab him at the door?
ORSINO:
Not so; some accident might interpose _375
To rescue him from what is now most sure;
And you are unprovided where to fly,
How to excuse or to conceal. Nay, listen:
All is contrived; success is so assured
That. . .
[ENTER BEATRICE. ]
BEATRICE:
'Tis my brother's voice! You know me not?
GIACOMO:
My sister, my lost sister! _380
BEATRICE:
Lost indeed!
I see Orsino has talked with you, and
That you conjecture things too horrible
To speak, yet far less than the truth. Now, stay not,
He might return: yet kiss me; I shall know _385
That then thou hast consented to his death.
Did you not hint at the alternative,
Upon the brink of which you see I stand,
The other day when we conversed together?
My wrongs were then less. That word parricide, _340
Although I am resolved, haunts me like fear.
ORSINO:
It must be fear itself, for the bare word
Is hollow mockery. Mark, how wisest God
Draws to one point the threads of a just doom,
So sanctifying it: what you devise _345
Is, as it were, accomplished.
GIACOMO:
Is he dead?
ORSINO:
His grave is ready. Know that since we met
Cenci has done an outrage to his daughter.
GIACOMO:
What outrage?
ORSINO:
That she speaks not, but you may
Conceive such half conjectures as I do, _350
From her fixed paleness, and the lofty grief
Of her stern brow bent on the idle air,
And her severe unmodulated voice,
Drowning both tenderness and dread; and last
From this; that whilst her step-mother and I, _355
Bewildered in our horror, talked together
With obscure hints; both self-misunderstood
And darkly guessing, stumbling, in our talk,
Over the truth, and yet to its revenge,
She interrupted us, and with a look _360
Which told, before she spoke it, he must die:. . .
GIACOMO:
It is enough. My doubts are well appeased;
There is a higher reason for the act
Than mine; there is a holier judge than me,
A more unblamed avenger.
Beatrice, _365
Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it
With needless tears! Fair sister, thou in whom
Men wondered how such loveliness and wisdom _370
Did not destroy each other! Is there made
Ravage of thee? O, heart, I ask no more
Justification! Shall I wait, Orsino,
Till he return, and stab him at the door?
ORSINO:
Not so; some accident might interpose _375
To rescue him from what is now most sure;
And you are unprovided where to fly,
How to excuse or to conceal. Nay, listen:
All is contrived; success is so assured
That. . .
[ENTER BEATRICE. ]
BEATRICE:
'Tis my brother's voice! You know me not?
GIACOMO:
My sister, my lost sister! _380
BEATRICE:
Lost indeed!
I see Orsino has talked with you, and
That you conjecture things too horrible
To speak, yet far less than the truth. Now, stay not,
He might return: yet kiss me; I shall know _385
That then thou hast consented to his death.
