To give me leave to utter openly
The
dreadful secret of this mystery,
And to point out the very
guilty one
Who with this
dagger last night slew the Duke.
LORD JUSTICE
Thou hast leave to speak.
DUCHESS
[rising]
I say he shall not speak:
What need have we of further evidence?
Was he not taken in the house at night
In Guilt's own
bloody livery?
LORD JUSTICE
[showing her the statute]
Your Grace
Can read the law.
DUCHESS
[waiving book aside]
Bethink you, my Lord Justice,
Is it not very like that such a one
May, in the presence of the people here,
Utter some slanderous word against my Lord,
Against the city, or the city's honour,
Perchance against myself.
LORD JUSTICE
My liege, the law.
DUCHESS
He shall not speak, but, with gags in his mouth,
Shall climb the
ladder to the
bloody block.
LORD JUSTICE
The law, my liege.
DUCHESS
We are not bound by law,
But with it we bind others.
MORANZONE
My Lord Justice,
Thou wilt not suffer this
injustice here.
LORD JUSTICE
The Court needs not thy voice, Lord Moranzone.
Madam, it were a
precedent most evil
To wrest the law from its appointed course,
For, though the cause be just, yet anarchy
Might on this
licence touch these golden scales
And
unjust causes
unjust victories gain.
COUNT BARDI
I do not think your Grace can stay the law.
DUCHESS
Ay, it is well to
preach and prate of law:
Methinks, my
haughty lords of Padua,
If ye are hurt in pocket or estate,
So much as makes your
monstrous revenues
Less by the value of one ferry toll,
Ye do not wait the
tedious law's delay
With such sweet
patience as ye
counsel me.
COUNT BARDI
Madam, I think you wrong our nobles here.
DUCHESS
I think I wrong them not. Which of you all
Finding a thief within his house at night,
With some poor chattel
thrust into his rags,
Will stop and parley with him? do ye not
Give him unto the officer and his hook
To be dragged gaolwards
straightway?
And so now,
Had ye been men,
finding this fellow here,
With my Lord's life still hot upon his hands,
Ye would have haled him out into the court,
And struck his head off with an axe.
GUIDO
O God!
DUCHESS
Speak, my Lord Justice.
LORD JUSTICE
Your Grace, it cannot be:
The laws of Padua are most certain here:
And by those laws the common
murderer even
May with his own lips plead, and make defence.
DUCHESS
This is no common
murderer, Lord Justice,
But a great
outlaw, and a most vile
traitor,
Taken in open arms against the state.
For he who slays the man who rules a state
Slays the state also, widows every wife,
And makes each child an
orphan, and no less
Is to be held a public enemy,
Than if he came with
mighty ordonnance,
And all the spears of Venice at his back,
To beat and
batter at our city gates -
Nay, is more dangerous to our commonwealth,
For walls and gates, bastions and forts, and things
Whose common elements are wood and stone
May be raised up, but who can raise again
The ruined body of my murdered lord,
And bid it live and laugh?
MAFFIO
Now by Saint Paul
I do not think that they will let him speak.
JEPPO VITELLOZZO
There is much in this, listen.
DUCHESS
Wherefore now,
Throw ashes on the head of Padua,
With sable banners hang each silent street,
Let every man be clad in
solemn black;
But ere we turn to these sad rites of mourning
Let us
bethink us of the
desperate hand
Which
wrought and brought this ruin on our state,
And
straightway pack him to that narrow house,
Where no voice is, but with a little dust
Death fills right up the lying mouths of men.
GUIDO
Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord Justice,
Thou mightst as well bid the untrammelled ocean,
The winter
whirlwind, or the Alpine storm,
Not roar their will, as bid me hold my peace!
Ay! though ye put your
knives into my throat,
Each grim and gaping wound shall find a tongue,
And cry against you.
LORD JUSTICE
Sir, this violence
Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal
Give thee a
lawful right to open speech,
Naught that thou sayest can be credited.
[The DUCHESS smiles and GUIDO falls back with a
gesture of
despair.]
Madam, myself, and these wise Justices,
Will with your Grace's
sanction now retire
Into another
chamber, to decide
Upon this difficult matter of the law,
And search the statutes and the
precedents.
DUCHESS
Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes well,
Nor let this brawling
traitor have his way.
MORANZONE
Go, my Lord Justice, search thy
conscience well,
Nor let a man be sent to death unheard.
[Exit the LORD JUSTICE and the Judges.]
DUCHESS
Silence, thou evil
genius of my life!
Thou com'st between us two a second time;
This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine.
GUIDO
I shall not die till I have uttered voice.
DUCHESS
Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with thee.
GUIDO
Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua?
DUCHESS
I am what thou hast made me; look at me well,
I am thy handiwork.
MAFFIO
See, is she not
Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice,
Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge?
JEPPO
Hush! she may hear thy chatter.
HEADSMAN
My young fellow,
I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak,
Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck,
And words of thine will never blunt its edge.
But if thou art so bent upon it, why
Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder:
The common people call him kindly here,
Indeed I know he has a kindly soul.
GUIDO
This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies
More than the others.
HEADSMAN
Why, God love you, sir,
I'll do you your last service on this earth.
GUIDO
My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land,
With Lord Christ's face of mercy looking down
From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man
Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so,
May I not tell this
dreadful tale of sin,
If any sin there be upon my soul?
DUCHESS
Thou dost but waste thy time.
CARDINAL
Alack, my son,
I have no power with the
secular arm.
My task begins when justice has been done,
To urge the wavering
sinner to repent
And to
confess to Holy Church's ear
The
dreadful secrets of a sinful mind.
DUCHESS
Thou mayest speak to the
confessional
Until thy lips grow weary of their tale,
But here thou shalt not speak.
GUIDO
My
reverend father,
You bring me but cold comfort.
CARDINAL
Nay, my son,
For the great power of our mother Church,
Ends not with this poor
bubble of a world,
Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith,
For if the
sinner doth repentant die,
Our prayers and holy masses much avail