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!

I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform,
By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought.

My disobedient and rebellious sons

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45

Are dead! Why dead!-What means this change of cheer?
You hear me not, I tell you they are dead;
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.

BEATRICE.

(Lucretia sinks, half fainting; Beatrice supports her.)

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.

Aye, as the word of God; whom here I call
To witness that I speak the sober truth;-
And whose most favouring Providence was shewn
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,

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55

60

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 shews that Heaven has special care of me.
I beg those friends who love me, that they mark
The day a feast upon their calendars.

It was the twenty-seventh of December:

Aye, read the letters if you doubt my oath.

(The assembly appears confused; several of the guests rise.)

FIRST GUEST.

Oh, horrible! I will depart.

65

I do believe it is some jest; tho' faith!
'Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly.
I think his son has married the Infanta,

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
And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl
Under the lamp-light, as my spirits do,
To hear the death of my accursed sons!

Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood,
Then would I taste thee like a sacrament,
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,

85

And drag them from the very throne of Heaven,
Now triumphs in my triumph!-But thou art
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).

Will none among this noble company
Check the abandoned villain?

Thou wretch ! 90

CAMILLO.

For God's sake

Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane,

Some ill will come of this.

(Addressing those who rise with a threatening gesture)

Who moves? Who speaks?

(Turning to the Company)

Enjoy yourselves.-Beware!1 For my revenge

Is as the sealed commission of a king

1 Although there is no stage direction to indicate a second change of attitude here, we are obviously to unVOL. II.

'tis nothing,

96

derstand some such words as again addressing those who had risen.

с

That kills, and none dare name the murderer.

(The Banquet is broken up; several of the Guests are departing.)

BEATRICE.

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105

I do entreat you, go not, noble guests;
What, although tyranny and impious hate
Stand sheltered by a father's hoary hair?
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
No refuge in this merciless wide world?
Oh, 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
Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke
Was perhaps some paternal chastisement!

110

Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt
Remained, have sought by patience, love and tears 115
To soften him, and when this could not be

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
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.
Oh! Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman,
Cardinal, thou art the Pope's chamberlain,
Camillo, thou art chief justiciary,

Take us away!

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125

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
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?
Or is it that I sue not in some form

Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit?
Oh, 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
Were celebrating now one feast for all!

CAMILLO.

A bitter wish for one so young and gentle;

Can we do nothing?

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135

140

COLONNA.

Nothing that I see.

Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy:

Yet I would second any one..

A CARDINAL.

And I.

1 The first edition reads dare not one; but the list of errata substitutes no for not, a correction duly made in

the second edition and maintained by Mrs. Shelley.