Who will love you, and not murder for your sake.
GUIDO
I love you only.
DUCHESS
You need not die for that.
GUIDO
Ah, if we die together, love, why then
Can we not lie together in one grave?
DUCHESS
A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed.
GUIDO
It is enough for us
DUCHESS
And they will strew it
With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs:
I think there are no roses in the grave,
Or if there are, they all are withered now
Since my Lord went there.
GUIDO
Ah! dear Beatrice,
Your lips are roses that death cannot wither.
DUCHESS
Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips
Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes
Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms,
Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart?
GUIDO
I do not care: Death has no power on love.
And so by Love’s immortal sovereignty
I will die with you.
DUCHESS
But the grave is black,
And the pit black, so I must go before
To light the candles for your coming hither.
No, no, I will not die, I will not die.
Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave;
Stand between me and the angel of death,
And wrestle with him for me.
[Thrusts GUIDO in front of her with his back to the audience.]
I will kiss you,
When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial,
To stay the workings of this poison in me?
Are there no rivers left in Italy
That you will not fetch me one cup of water
To quench this fire?
GUIDO
O God!
DUCHESS
You did not tell me
There was a drought in Italy, and no water:
Nothing but fire.
GUIDO
O Love!
DUCHESS
Send for a leech,
Not him who stanched my husband, but another
We have no time: send for a leech, I say:
There is an antidote against each poison,
And he will sell it if we give him money.
Tell him that I will give him Padua,
For one short hour of life: I will not die.
Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me,
This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know
It was such pain to die: I thought that life
Had taken all the agonies to itself;
It seems it is not so.
GUIDO
O damnéd stars
Quench your vile cresset-lights in tears, and bid
The moon, your mistress, shine no more tonight.
DUCHESS
Guido, why are we here? I think this room
Is poorly furnished for a marriage chamber.
Let us get hence at once. Where are the horses?
We should be on our way to Venice now.
How cold the night is! We must ride faster.
[The Monks begin to chant outside.]
Music! It should be merrier; but grief
Is of the fashion now - I know not why.
You must not weep: do we not love each other? -
That is enough. Death, what do you here?
You were not bidden to this table, sir;
Away, we have no need of you: I tell you
It was in wine I pledged you, not in poison.
They lied who told you that I drank your poison.
It was spilt upon the ground, like my Lord’s blood;
You came too late.
GUIDO
Sweet, there is nothing there:
These things are only unreal shadows.
DUCHESS
Death,
Why do you tarry, get to the upper chamber;
The cold meats of my husband’s funeral feast
Are set for you; this is a wedding feast.
You are out of place, sir; and, besides, ‘tis summer.
We do not need these heavy fires now,
You scorch us.
Oh, I am burned up,
Can you do nothing? Water, give me water,
Or else more poison.
