for the hundredth time the sorry
Tale in its bloody history. O Sodom
Doomed to be dyed for e’er with running gore,
Thy silent streets for ever haunted by
The specter of death, and they great palaces
The banquet-halls of reveling Mars!
O for these haughty slaves whose hearts rejoice
In civil blood, rather than to unsheathe
Their eager words in the stern faces
Of Florence’s common foes; while I am doomed
To play a poor spectator’s sorry part
Possessing not the power to do aught else,
Compelled to taste the bitterness to be
In name the ruler, in power not.
But could I force the fleeting years retrace
Their dusty steps, regain the heart unflinching
And stout, of youth, pour ardour warm and zeal
Herculean might to my sore trembling arms,
I would not linger here uttering vain words.
O idle wish bred of impotency!
What redress doth remain save to assay
To reconcile the alienated hearts?
[Re-enter Oddo, Lamb., Valentio, and Rinieri]
Oddo [addressing the Duke]:
My Lord, I come demanding that Justice
Be done to me.
Duke:
Hast thou been wronged?
Oddo:
Aye, wronged,
Abused, scorned in the midst of gentlemen,
And made a Justice-seeking fool, the while
The root and source of all that roameth free
Like as the fowls of heaven, and perchance
To my undoing.
Duke:
Thou awakenest
My curiousness to learn the name of the bold
Offender: pray how goes it?
Oddo:
A name
My furious lips would scorch if they assay
To spell it: ‘tis no stranger to your ear.
Rinieri:
It spells ‘Valentio,’ Your Highness.
[Enter Valentio and Uberto]
Duke:
Ah here he comes. [to Valentio] This gentleman [pointing to Oddo] doth claim
Amends for certain wrongs that he maintains
Thou hast done him. How wouldst thou defend
Thyself against this charge?
Valentio [after a pause]:
My silence, both
With his wound plead him right.
Uberto:
Not so, my Lord,
‘Tis I, not he who needs should suffer Thy wrath.
Valentio:
Nay, heed him not, my Lord; he speaks
Thus, driven by a generous nature.
Duke [to Valentio and Uberto]:
Verrily
I marvel greatly at your words: I have
Not seen before this day men enamoured
So much to punishment! I do commend
Your noble friendship, but yet I demand
To know who the offender is.
Valentio:
‘Tis I.
Uberto:
Nay, ‘tis I.
Duke [reflecting]:
Since each of you would fain
So firmly bear the charge and doth abide
Unshaken in his judgment, it meseems
Well to devise some other way to extricate
Us from this difficulty. [to Lamb.] A daughter fair
Hast thou, if I am well informed: a maid
More fair than heaven’s sun, but not a whit
Less scorching, whom I did behold one day
Happier than any in my life, and so
Surpassing fair was she that amorous Time,
Wounded by the darts of Love fled with haste
Lest he be wounded more, that I knew not how;
And she made ma sore rune my palsied age
And envy most bold youth.
Lamb. [bowing low]:
My Lord, you flood
My humble self with all this generous praise,
Beyond all hope of thanks I abide
In debt.
Duke:
She’s called Beatrice, is it not so?
Uberto [aside, with his hand on his heart]:
Hush, fond heart,
Thou makest me believe it was her name I heard!
Oddo
