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 To bring the guilty soul from purgatory.

DUCHESS

And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord With that red star of blood upon his heart, Tell him I sent thee hither.

GUIDO

O dear God!

MORANZONE

This is the woman, is it, whom you loved?

CARDINAL

Your Grace is very cruel to this man.

DUCHESS

No more than he was cruel to her Grace.

CARDINAL

Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes.

DUCHESS

I got no mercy, and I give it not. He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone, He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field, He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast, He hath withered up all kindness at the root; My life is as some famine murdered land, Whence all good things have perished utterly: I am what he hath made me. [The DUCHESS weeps.]

JEPPO

Is it not strange That she should so have loved the wicked Duke?

MAFFIO

It is most strange when women love their lords, And when they love them not it is most strange.

JEPPO

What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci!

MAFFIO

Ay! I can bear the ills of other men, Which is philosophy.

DUCHESS

They tarry long, These greybeards and their council; bid them come; Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed, That I here care to live; God knows my life Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that, I would not die companionless, or go Lonely to Hell. Look, my Lord Cardinal, Canst thou not see across my forehead here, In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge? Fetch me some water, I will wash it off: ’Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal? Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain: Give me a knife; not that one, but another, And I will cut it out.

CARDINAL

It is most natural To be incensed against the murderous hand That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord.