LUCRETIA:
Alas! Poor boy, what else couldst thou have done?
[ENTER BEATRICE.]
BEATRICE [IN A HURRIED VOICE]:
Did he pass this way? Have you seen him, brother?
Ah, no! that is his step upon the stairs;
’Tis nearer now; his hand is on the door;
Mother, if I to thee have ever been _15
A duteous child, now save me! Thou, great God,
Whose image upon earth a father is,
Dost thou indeed abandon me? He comes;
The door is opening now; I see his face;
He frowns on others, but he smiles on me, _20
Even as he did after the feast last night.
[ENTER A SERVANT.]
Almighty God, how merciful Thou art!
’Tis but Orsino’s servant.—Well, what news?
SERVANT:
My master bids me say, the Holy Father
Has sent back your petition thus unopened. _25
[GIVING A PAPER.]
And he demands at what hour ’twere secure
To visit you again?
LUCRETIA:
At the Ave Mary.
[EXIT SERVANT.]
So, daughter, our last hope has failed. Ah me!
How pale you look; you tremble, and you stand
Wrapped in some fixed and fearful meditation, _30
As if one thought were over strong for you:
Your eyes have a chill glare; O, dearest child!
Are you gone mad? If not, pray speak to me.
BEATRICE:
You see I am not mad: I speak to you.
LUCRETIA:
You talked of something that your father did _35
After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse
Than when he smiled, and cried, ‘My sons are dead!’
And every one looked in his neighbour’s face
To see if others were as white as he?
At the first word he spoke I felt the blood _40
Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance;
And when it passed I sat all weak and wild;
Whilst you alone stood up, and with strong words
Checked his unnatural pride; and I could see
The devil was rebuked that lives in him. _45
Until this hour thus you have ever stood
Between us and your father’s moody wrath
Like a protecting presence; your firm mind
Has been our only refuge and defence:
What can have thus subdued it? What can now _50
Have given you that cold melancholy look,
Succeeding to your unaccustomed fear?
BEATRICE:
What is it that you say? I was just thinking
’Twere better not to struggle any more.
Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody, _55
Yet never—Oh! Before worse comes of it
’Twere wise to die: it ends in that at last.
LUCRETIA:
Oh, talk not so, dear child! Tell me at once
What did your father do or say to you?
He stayed not after that accursed feast _60
One moment in your chamber.—Speak to me.
BERNARDO:
Oh, sister, sister, prithee, speak to us!