MORANZONE

[with a look of joy] What, has he left you?

DUCHESS

Nay, you know he has. Oh, give him back to me, give him back, I say, Or I will tear your body limb from limb, And to the common gibbet nail your head Until the carrion crows have stripped it bare. Better you had crossed a hungry lioness Before you came between me and my love. [With more pathos.] Nay, give him back, you know not how I love him. Here by this chair he knelt a half hour since; ’Twas there he stood, and there he looked at me; This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears Into whose open portals he did pour A tale of love so musical that all The birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me.

MORANZONE

He does not love you, Madam.

DUCHESS

May the plague Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back.

MORANZONE

Madam, I tell you you will never see him, Neither to-night, nor any other night.

DUCHESS

What is your name?

MORANZONE

My name? Revenge! [Exit.]

DUCHESS

Revenge! I think I never harmed a little child. What should Revenge do coming to my door? It matters not, for Death is there already, Waiting with his dim torch to light my way. ’Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover, And so dispatch the messengers at once, Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day, And let the night, thy sister, come instead, And drape the world in mourning; let the owl, Who is thy minister, scream from his tower And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat, That is the slave of dim Persephone, Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing! Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth And bid them make us music, and tell the mole To dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed, For I shall lie within thine arms to-night.

END OF ACT II

.

ACT III

SCENE

A large corridor in the Ducal Palace: a window (L.C.) looks out on a view of Padua by moonlight: a staircase (R.C.) leads up to a door with a portière of crimson velvet, with the Duke’s arms embroidered in gold on it: on the lowest step of the staircase a figure draped in black is sitting: the hall is lit by an iron cresset filled with burning tow: thunder and lightning outside: the time is night.

[Enter GUIDO through the window.]

GUIDO

The wind is rising: how my ladder shook! I thought that every gust would break the cords! [Looks out at the city.] Christ! What a night: Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings Striking from pinnacle to pinnacle Across the city, till the dim houses seem To shudder and to shake as each new glare Dashes adown the street. [Passes across the stage to foot of staircase.] Ah! who art thou That sittest on the stair, like unto Death Waiting a guilty soul? [A pause.] Canst thou not speak? Or has this storm laid palsy on thy tongue, And chilled thy utterance? [The figure rises and takes off his mask.]

MORANZONE

Guido Ferranti, Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night.

GUIDO

[confusedly] What, art thou here?

MORANZONE

Ay, waiting for your coming.

GUIDO

[looking away from him] I did not think to see you, but am glad, That you may know the thing I mean to do.