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A Magnificent Hall in the Cenci Palace. A Banquet. | |
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Enter CENCI, LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, ORSINO, CAMILLO, NOBLES | |
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| Cenci. Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye, | |
| Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church, | |
| Whose presence honours our festivity. | 5 |
| I have too long lived like an anchorite, | |
| And in my absence from your merry meetings | |
| An evil word is gone abroad of me; | |
| But I do hope that you, my noble friends, | |
| When you have shared the entertainment here, | 10 |
| And heard the pious cause for which ’tis given, | |
| And we have pledged a health or two together, | |
| Will think me flesh and blood as well as you; | |
| Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so, | |
| But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful. | 15 |
| First Guest. In truth, My Lord, you seem too light of heart, | |
| Too sprightly and companionable a man, | |
| To act the deeds that rumour pins on you. | |
| (To his companion.) I never saw such blithe and open cheer | |
| In any eye! | 20 |
| Second Guest. Some most desired event, | |
| In which we all demand a common joy, | |
| Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count. | |
| Cenci. It is indeed a most desired event. | |
| If, when a parent from a parent’s heart | 25 |
| Lifts from this earth to the great father of all | |
| A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep, | |
| And when he rises up from dreaming it; | |
| One supplication, one desire, one hope, | |
| That he would grant a wish for his two sons, | 30 |
| Even all that he demands in their regard— | |
| And suddenly beyond his dearest hope, | |
| It is accomplished, he should then rejoice, | |
| And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast, | |
| And task their love to grace his merriment, | 35 |
| Then honour me thus far—for I am he. | |
| Beatrice (to Lucretia). Great God! How horrible! Some dreadful ill | |
| Must have befallen my brothers. | |
| Lucretia. Fear not, Child, | |
| He speaks too frankly. | 40 |
| Beatrice. Ah! My blood runs cold. | |
| I fear that wicked laughter round his eye, | |
| Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair. | |
| Cenci. Here are the letters brought from Salamanca; | |
| Beatrice, read them to your mother. God! | 45 |
| I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform, | |
| By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought. | |
| My disobedient and rebellious sons | |
| Are dead!—Why, dead!—What means this change of cheer? | |
| You hear me not, I tell you they are dead; | 50 |
| And they will need no food or raiment more: | |
| The tapers that did light them the dark way | |
| Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not | |
| Expect I should maintain them in their coffins. | |
| Rejoice with me—my heart is wondrous glad. [LUCRETIA sinks, half-fainting; BEATRICE supports her. | 55 |
| Beatrice. It is not true!—Dear lady, pray look up. | |
| Had it been true, there is a God in Heaven, | |
| He would not live to boast of such a boon. | |
| Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false. | |
| Cenci. Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call | 60 |
| To witness that I speak the sober truth;— | |
| And whose most favouring Providence was shown | |
| Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco | |
| Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others, | |
| When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy, | 65 |
| The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano | |
| Was stabbed in error by a jealous man, | |
| Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival; | |
| All in the self-same hour of the same night; | |
| Which shows that Heaven has special care of me. | 70 |
| I beg those friends who love me, that they mark | |
| The day a feast upon their calendars. | |
| It was the twenty-seventh of December: | |
| Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath. [The Assembly appears confused; several of the guests rise. | |
| First Guest. Oh, horrible! I will depart— | 75 |
| Second Guest. And I.— | |
| Third Guest. No, stay! | |
| I do believe it is some jest; tho’ faith! | |
| ’Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly. | |
| I think his son has married the Infanta, | 80 |
| Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado; | |
| ’Tis but to season some such news; stay, stay! | |
| I see ’tis only raillery by his smile. | |
| Cenci (filling a bowl of wine, and lifting it up). Oh, thou | |
| bright wine whose purple splendour leaps | 85 |
| And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl | |
| Under the lamp-light, as my spirits do, | |
| To hear the death of my accursèd sons! | |
| Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood, | |
| Then would I taste thee like a sacrament, | 90 |
| And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell, | |
| Who, if a father’s curses, as men say, | |
| Climb with swift wings after their children’s souls, | |
| And drag them from the very throne of Heaven, | |
| Now triumphs in my triumph!—But thou art | 95 |
| Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy, | |
| And I will taste no other wine to-night. | |
| Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around. | |
| A Guest (rising). Thou wretch! | |
| Will none among this noble company | 100 |
| Check the abandoned villain? | |
| Camillo. For God’s sake | |
| Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane, | |
| Some ill will come of this. | |
| Second Guest. Seize, silence him! | 105 |
| First Guest. I will! | |
| Third Guest. And I! | |
| Cenci (addressing those who rise with a threatening gesture). Who moves? Who speaks? (turning to the Company) | |
| ’tis nothing, | |
| Enjoy yourselves.—Beware! For my revenge | 110 |
| Is as the sealed commission of a king | |
| That kills, and none dare name the murderer. [The Banquet is broken up; several of the Guests are departing. | |
| Beatrice. I do entreat you, go not, noble guests; | |
| What, although tyranny and impious hate | |
| Stand sheltered by a father’s hoary hair, | 115 |
| What, if ’tis he who clothed us in these limbs | |
| Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we, | |
| The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, | |
| His children and his wife, whom he is bound | |
| To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find | 120 |
| No refuge in this merciless wide world? | |
| O think what deep wrongs must have blotted out | |
| First love, then reverence in a child’s prone mind, | |
| Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! O think! | |
| I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand | 125 |
| Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke | |
| Was perhaps some paternal chastisement! | |
| Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt | |
| Remained, have sought by patience, love, and tears | |
| To soften him, and when this could not be | 130 |
| I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights | |
| And lifted up to God, the father of all, | |
| Passionate prayers: and when these were not heard | |
| I have still borne,—until I meet you here, | |
| Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast | 135 |
| Given at my brothers’ deaths. Two yet remain, | |
| His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not, | |
| Ye may soon share such merriment again | |
| As fathers make over their children’s graves. | |
| O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman, | 140 |
| Cardinal, thou art the Pope’s chamberlain, | |
| Camillo, thou art chief justiciary, | |
| Take us away! | |
| Cenci. (He has been conversing with CAMILLO during the first part of BEATRICE’S speech; he hears the conclusion, and now advances.) I hope my good friends here | |
| Will think of their own daughters—or perhaps | 145 |
| Of their own throats—before they lend an ear | |
| To this wild girl. | |
| Beatrice (not noticing the words of Cenci). Dare no one look on me? | |
| None answer? Can one tyrant overbear | |
| The sense of many best and wisest men? | 150 |
| Or is it that I sue not in some form | |
| Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit? | |
| O God! That I were buried with my brothers! | |
| And that the flowers of this departed spring | |
| Were fading on my grave! And that my father | 155 |
| Were celebrating now one feast for all! | |
| Camillo. A bitter wish for one so young and gentle; | |
| Can we do nothing? | |
| Colonna. Nothing that I see. | |
| Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy: | 160 |
| Yet I would second any one. | |
| A Cardinal. And I. | |
| Cenci. Retire to your chamber, insolent girl! | |
| Beatrice. Retire thou impious man! Ay, hide thyself | |
| Where never eye can look upon thee more! | 165 |
| Wouldst thou have honour and obedience | |
| Who art a torturer? Father, never dream | |
| Though thou must overbear this company, | |
| But ill must come of ill.—Frown not on me! | |
| Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks | 170 |
| My brothers’ ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat! | |
| Cover thy face from every living eye, | |
| And start if thou but hear a human step. | |
| Seek out some dark and silent corner, there | |
| Bow thy white head before offended God, | 175 |
| And we will kneel around, and fervently | |
| Pray that he pity both ourselves, and thee. | |
| Cenci. My friends, I do lament this insane girl | |
| Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity. | |
| Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer | 180 |
| Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels. | |
| Another time.— [Exeunt all but CENCI and BEATRICE. | |
| My brain is swimming round; | |
| Give me a bowl of wine! [To BEATRICE. | |
| Thou painted viper! | 185 |
| Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible! | |
| I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame, | |
| Now get thee from my sight! [Exit BEATRICE. | |
| Here, Andrea, | |
| Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said | 190 |
| I would not drink this evening; but I must; | |
| For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail | |
| With thinking what I have decreed to do.— [Drinking the wine. | |
| Be thou the resolution of quick youth | |
| Within my veins, and manhood’s purpose stern, | 195 |
| And age’s firm, cold, subtle villainy; | |
| As if thou wert indeed my children’s blood | |
| Which I did thirst to drink! The charm works well; | |
| It must be done; it shall be done, I swear! [Exit. | |
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