Luer (Her conduct throughout the scene is marked by extreme agitation.)

Where was it found? what is it? It should be
Orsino's hand! It speaks of that strange horcor
Which never yet found utterance, but which made
Between that hapless child and her dead father
A gulph of obscure hatred

Sav. Is it so ?

Is it true, Lady, that thy father did
Such outrages as to awaken in thee
Unfilial hate?

Beatr. Not hate, 'twas more than hate:

This is most true, yet wherefore question me?
Sav. There is a deed demanding question done;
Thou hast a secret which will answer not.

[and rash.

Beatr. What sayest? My Lord, your words are bold Sav. I do arrest all present in the name

Of the Pope's Holiness. You must to Rome.

Lucr. Oh, not to Rome! Indeed we are not guilty. Beatr. Guilty! Who dares talk of guilt? My Lord, I am more innocent of parricide

Than is a child born fatherless. Dear mother,

Your gentleness and patience are no shield

For this keen-judging world, this two-edged lie,
Which seems, but is not. What! will human laws,
Rather will ye who are their ministers,

Bar all access to retribution first,

And then, when heaven doth interpose to do
What ye neglect, arming familiar things

To the redress of an unwonted crime,

Make ye the victims who demanded it

Culprits? 'Tis ye are culprits! That poor wretch,
Who stands so pale, and trembling, and amazed,
If it be true he murdered Cenci, was

A sword in the right hand of justest God.

Wherefore should I have wielded it? Unless

The crimes which mortal tongue dare never name
God therefore scruples to avenge

Sav. You own

That you desired his death?

Beatr. It would have been

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.
'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? are both. Sav. Strange thoughts beget strange deeds; and here I judge thee not.

Beatr. And yet, if you arrest me,

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 faise
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
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,

Sav. I dare not, Lady.

I pray that you prepare yourselves for Rome:

There the Pope's further pleasure will be known.

Luer. Oh, not to Rome! Oh, take us not to Rome! Beatr. Why not to Rome, dear mother? There as hen Our innocence is as an armed heel

To trample accusation. God is there

As here, and with his shadow ever clothe

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 sonie refreshment,

And have 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?

Lucr. Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest
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!

(She faints, and is borne out.) Sav. She faints: an ill appearance this. Beatr. My Lord,

She knows not yet the uses of the world.
She fears that power is as a beast which grasps
And loosens not, a snake whose look transmutes
All things to guilt which is its nutriment.
She cannot know how well the supine slaves
Of blind authority read the truth of things
When written on a brow of guilelessness:
She sees not yet triumphant Innocence
Stand at the judgment-seat of mortal man,
A judge and an accuser of the wrong

Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord;
Our suite will join yours in the court below

-00

(Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An apartment in ORSINO'S Palace. Enter ORSINO and

GIACOMO.

Giac. Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end?
Oh, that the vain remorse which must chastise
Crimes done, had but as loud a voice to warn
As its keen sting is mortal to avenge!

Oh, that the hour when present had cast off
The mantle of its mystery, and shewn
The ghastly form with which it now returns

When its sacred game is roused, cheering the hounds
Of conscience to their prey! Alas! alas!
It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed,
To kill an old and hoary-headed father.

Ors. It has turned out unluckily, in truth. Giac. To violate the sacred doors of sleep; To cheat kind nature of the placid death Which she prepares for over-wearied age; To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul, Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers A life of burning crimes

Ors. You cannot say

I urged you to the deed.

Giac. Oh, had I never

Found in thy smooth and ready countenance
The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou
Never with hints and questions made me look
Upon the monster of my thought, until
It grew familiar to desire-

Ors. 'Tis thus

Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts
Upon the abettors of their own resolve:
Or any thing but their weak guilty selves.
And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril

In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness
Of penitence; confess 'tis fear disguised

From its own shame that takes the mantle now
Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe?
Giac. How can that be? Already Beatrice,
Lucretia, and the murderer, are in prison.
I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak,
Sent to arrest us.

Ors. I have all prepared

For instant flight. We can escape even now,
So we take fleet occasion by the hair.

Giac. Rather expire in tortures, as I may
What will you cast by self-accusing flight
Assured conviction upon Beatrice?
She, who alone, in this unnatural work,
Stands like God's angel ministered upon
By fiends; avenging such a nameless wrong
As turns black parricide to piety;

Whilst we for basest ends-I fear, Orsino,
While I consider all your words and looks,
Comparing them with your proposal now,

That you must be a villain. For what end
Could you engage in such a perilous crime,
Training me on with hints, and signs, and smiles,
Even to this gulph? Thou art no liar? No,

Thou art a lie!

Traitor and murderer!

Coward and slave! But, no, defend thyself; (drawing,
Let the sword speak what the indignant tongue
Disdains to brand thee with.

Ors Put up your weapon.

Is it the desperation of your fear

Makes you thus rash and sudden with a friend,
Now ruined for your sake? If honest anger

Have moved you, know, that what I just proposed
Was but to try you. As for me, I think
Thankless affection led me to this point,
From which, if my firin temper could repent,
I cannot now recede. Even whilst we speak
The ministers of justice wait below:

They grant me these brief moments. Now, if you
Have any word of melancholy comfort

To speak to your pale wife, 'twere best to pass

Out at the postern, and avoid them so.

Giac. O generous friend! how canst thou pardon me?

Would that my life could purchase thine!

Ors. That wish

Now comes a day too late. Haste: fare thee well!

Hear'st thou not steps along the corridor (Exit Giacomo.)

I'm sorry for it; but the guards are waiting

At his own gate, and such was my contrivance
That I might rid me both of him and them.
I thought to act a solemn comedy
Upon the painted scene of this new world,
And to attain my own peculiar ends
By some such plot of mingled good and ill
As others weave; but there arose a Power

Which grasp'd and snapp'd the threads of my device,
And turned it to a net of ruin-Ha!

(a shout is heard.)

Is that my name I hear prociaimed abroad?
But I will pass, wrapt in a vile disguise;
Rags on my back, and a false innocence
Upon my face, through the misdeeming crowd