The Duchess of Padua. Wilde Oscar
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Duke
No, my Lord Cardinal, I weary of her!
Why, she is worse than ugly, she is good.
Maffio [excitedly]
Your Grace, there are two thousand people there
Who every moment grow more clamorous.
Duke
Tut, man, they waste their strength upon their lungs!
People who shout so loud, my lords, do nothing;
The only men I fear are silent men.
[A yell from the people.]
You see, Lord Cardinal, how my people love me.
[Another yell.]
Go, Petrucci,
And tell the captain of the guard below
To clear the square. Do you not hear me, sir?
Do what I bid you.
[Exit Petrucci.]
Cardinal
I beseech your Grace
To listen to their grievances.
Duke [sitting on his throne]
Ay! the peaches
Are not so big this year as they were last.
I crave your pardon, my lord Cardinal,
I thought you spake of peaches.
[A cheer from the people.]
What is that?
Guido [rushes to the window]
The Duchess has gone forth into the square,
And stands between the people and the guard,
And will not let them shoot.
Duke
The devil take her!
Guido [still at the window]
And followed by a dozen of the citizens
Has come into the Palace.
Duke [starting up]
By Saint James,
Our Duchess waxes bold!
Bardi
Here comes the Duchess.
Duke
Shut that door there; this morning air is cold.
[They close the door on the corridor.]
[Enter the Duchess followed by a crowd of meanly dressed Citizens.]
Duchess [flinging herself upon her knees]
I do beseech your Grace to give us audience.
Duke
What are these grievances?
Duchess
Alas, my Lord,
Such common things as neither you nor I,
Nor any of these noble gentlemen,
Have ever need at all to think about;
They say the bread, the very bread they eat,
Is made of sorry chaff.
First Citizen
Ay! so it is,
Nothing but chaff.
Duke
And very good food too,
I give it to my horses.
Duchess [restraining herself]
They say the water,
Set in the public cisterns for their use,
[Has, through the breaking of the aqueduct,]
To stagnant pools and muddy puddles turned.
Duke
They should drink wine; water is quite unwholesome.
Second Citizen
Alack, your Grace, the taxes which the customs
Take at the city gate are grown so high
We cannot buy wine.
Duke
Then you should bless the taxes
Which make you temperate.
Duchess
Think, while we sit
In gorgeous pomp and state, gaunt poverty
Creeps through their sunless lanes, and with sharp knives
Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily
And no word said.
Third Citizen
Ay! marry, that is true,
My little son died yesternight from hunger;
He was but six years old; I am so poor,
I cannot bury him.
Duke
If you are poor,
Are you not blessed in that? Why, poverty
Is one of the Christian virtues,
[Turns to the Cardinal.]
Is it not?
I know, Lord Cardinal, you have great revenues,
Rich abbey-lands, and tithes, and large estates
For preaching voluntary poverty.
Duchess
Nay but, my lord the Duke, be generous;
While we sit here within a noble house
[With shaded porticoes against the sun,
And walls and roofs to keep the winter out],
There are many citizens of Padua
Who in vile tenements live so full of holes,
That the chill rain, the snow, and the