Sweet, lift up

       The trailing curtains that overhang your eyes

       That I may look into those eyes, and tell you

       I love you, never more than now when Death

       Thrusts his cold lips between us: Beatrice,

       I love you: have you no word left to say?

       Oh, I can bear the executioner,

       But not this silence: will you not say you love me?

       Speak but that word and Death shall lose his sting,

       But speak it not, and fifty thousand deaths

       Are, in comparison, mercy. Oh, you are cruel,

       And do not love me.

      DUCHESS

       Alas! I have no right

       For I have stained the innocent hands of love

       With spilt-out blood: there is blood on the ground;

       I set it there.

      GUIDO

       Sweet, it was not yourself,

       It was some devil tempted you.

      DUCHESS

       [rising suddenly]

       No, no,

       We are each our own devil, and we make

       This world our hell.

      GUIDO

       Then let high Paradise

       Fall into Tartarus! for I shall make

       This world my heaven for a little space.

       The sin was mine, if any sin there was.

       ‘Twas I who nurtured murder in my heart,

       Sweetened my meats, seasoned my wine with it,

       And in my fancy slew the accursed Duke

       A hundred times a day. Why, had this man

       Died half so often as I wished him to,

       Death had been stalking ever through the house,

       And murder had not slept.

       But you, fond heart,

       Whose little eyes grew tender over a whipt hound,

       You whom the little children laughed to see

       Because you brought the sunlight where you passed,

       You the white angel of God’s purity,

       This which men call your sin, what was it?

      DUCHESS

       Ay!

       What was it? There are times it seems a dream,

       An evil dream sent by an evil god,

       And then I see the dead face in the coffin

       And know it is no dream, but that my hand

       Is red with blood, and that my desperate soul

       Striving to find some haven for its love

       From the wild tempest of this raging world,

       Has wrecked its bark upon the rocks of sin.

       What was it, said you? - murder merely? Nothing

       But murder, horrible murder.

      GUIDO

       Nay, nay, nay,

       ‘Twas but the passionflower of your love

       That in one moment leapt to terrible life,

       And in one moment bare this gory fruit,

       Which I had plucked in thought a thousand times.

       My soul was murderous, but my hand refused;

       Your hand wrought murder, but your soul was pure.

       And so I love you, Beatrice, and let him

       Who has no mercy for your stricken head,

       Lack mercy up in heaven! Kiss me, sweet.

       [Tries to kiss her.]

      DUCHESS

       No, no, your lips are pure, and mine are soiled,

       For Guilt has been my paramour, and Sin

       Lain in my bed: O Guido, if you love me

       Get hence, for every moment is a worm

       Which gnaws your life away: nay, sweet, get hence,

       And if in after time you think of me,

       Think of me as of one who loved you more

       Than anything on earth; think of me, Guido,

       As of a woman merely, one who tried

       To make her life a sacrifice to love,

       And slew love in the trial: Oh, what is that?

       The bell has stopped from ringing, and I hear

       The feet of armed men upon the stair.

      GUIDO

       [aside]

       That is the signal for the guard to come.

      DUCHESS

       Why has the bell stopped ringing?

      GUIDO

       If you must know,

       That stops my life on this side of the grave,

       But on the other we shall meet again.

      DUCHESS

       No, no, ‘tis not too late: you must get hence;

       The horse is by the bridge, there is still time.

       Away, away, you must not tarry here!

       [Noise of Soldiers in the passage.]

      A VOICE OUTSIDE

       Room for the Lord Justice of Padua!

       [The LORD JUSTICE is seen through the grated window passing down the corridor preceded by men bearing torches.]

      DUCHESS

       It is too late.

      A VOICE OUTSIDE

       Room for the headsman.

      DUCHESS

       [sinks down]

       Oh!

       [The Headsman with his axe on his shoulder is seen passing the corridor, followed by Monks bearing candles.]

      GUIDO

       Farewell, dear love, for I must drink this poison.

       I do not fear the headsman, but I would die

       Not on the lonely scaffold.

       But here,

       Here in thine arms, kissing thy mouth: farewell!

       [Goes to the table and takes the goblet up.] What, art thou empty?

       [Throws it to the ground.]

       O thou churlish gaoler,

       Even of poisons niggard!

      DUCHESS

       [faintly]

       Blame him not.

      GUIDO