.

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 rude blast,

      Are tenants also with them; others sleep

      Under the arches of the public bridges

      All through the autumn nights, till the wet mist

      Stiffens their limbs, and fevers come, and so —

      Duke

      And so they go to Abraham’s bosom, Madam.

      They should thank me for sending them to Heaven,

      If they are wretched here. [To the Cardinal.]

      Is it not said

      Somewhere in Holy Writ, that every man

      Should be contented with that state of life

      God calls him to? Why should I change their state,

      Or meddle with an all-wise providence,

      Which has apportioned that some men should starve,

      And others surfeit? I did not make the world.

      First Citizen

      He hath a hard heart.

      Second Citizen

      Nay, be silent, neighbour;

      I think the Cardinal will speak for us.

      Cardinal

      True, it is Christian to bear misery,

      Yet it is Christian also to be kind,

      And there seem many evils in this town,

      Which in your wisdom might your Grace reform.

      First Citizen

      What is that word reform?  What does it mean?

      Second Citizen

      Marry, it means leaving things as they are; I like it not.

      Duke

      Reform Lord Cardinal, did you say reform?

      There is a man in Germany called Luther,

      Who would reform the Holy Catholic Church.

      Have you not made him heretic, and uttered

      Anathema, maranatha, against him?

      Cardinal [rising from his seat]

      He would have led the sheep out of the fold,

      We do but ask of you to feed the sheep.

      Duke

      When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed them.

      As for these rebels –  [Duchess entreats him.]

      First Citizen

      That is a kind word,

      He means to give us something.

      Second Citizen

      Is that so?

      Duke

      These ragged knaves who come before us here,

      With mouths chock-full of treason.

      Third Citizen

      Good my Lord,

      Fill up our mouths with bread; we’ll hold our tongues.

      Duke

      Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve or not.

      My lords, this age is so familiar grown,

      That the low peasant hardly doffs his hat,

      Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic

      Elbows the noble in the public streets.

      [To the Citizens.]

      Still as our gentle Duchess has so prayed us,

      And to refuse so beautiful a beggar

      Were to lack both courtesy and love,

      Touching your grievances, I promise this —

      First Citizen

      Marry,