The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition. Оскар Уайльд

Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice,

       Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge?

      JEPPO

       Hush! she may hear thy chatter.

      HEADSMAN

       My young fellow,

       I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak,

       Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck,

       And words of thine will never blunt its edge.

       But if thou art so bent upon it, why

       Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder:

       The common people call him kindly here,

       Indeed I know he has a kindly soul.

      GUIDO

       This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies

       More than the others.

      HEADSMAN

       Why, God love you, sir,

       I’ll do you your last service on this earth.

      GUIDO

       My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land,

       With Lord Christ’s face of mercy looking down

       From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man

       Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so,

       May I not tell this dreadful tale of sin,

       If any sin there be upon my soul?

      DUCHESS

       Thou dost but waste thy time.

      CARDINAL

       Alack, my son,

       I have no power with the secular arm.

       My task begins when justice has been done,

       To urge the wavering sinner to repent

       And to confess to Holy Church’s ear

       The dreadful secrets of a sinful mind.

      DUCHESS

       Thou mayest speak to the confessional

       Until thy lips grow weary of their tale,

       But here thou shalt not speak.

      GUIDO

       My reverend father,

       You bring me but cold comfort.

      CARDINAL

       Nay, my son,

       For the great power of our mother Church,

       Ends not with this poor bubble of a world,

       Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith,

       For if the sinner doth repentant die,

       Our prayers and holy masses much avail

       To bring the guilty soul from purgatory.

      DUCHESS

       And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord

       With that red star of blood upon his heart,

       Tell him I sent thee hither.

      GUIDO

       O dear God!

      MORANZONE

       This is the woman, is it, whom you loved?

      CARDINAL

       Your Grace is very cruel to this man.

      DUCHESS

       No more than he was cruel to her Grace.

      CARDINAL

       Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes.

      DUCHESS

       I got no mercy, and I give it not.

       He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone,

       He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field,

       He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast,

       He hath withered up all kindness at the root;

       My life is as some famine murdered land,

       Whence all good things have perished utterly:

       I am what he hath made me.

       [The DUCHESS weeps.]

      JEPPO

       Is it not strange

       That she should so have loved the wicked Duke?

      MAFFIO

       It is most strange when women love their lords,

       And when they love them not it is most strange.

      JEPPO

       What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci!

      MAFFIO

       Ay! I can bear the ills of other men,

       Which is philosophy.

      DUCHESS

       They tarry long,

       These greybeards and their council; bid them come;

       Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart

       Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed,

       That I here care to live; God knows my life

       Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that,

       I would not die companionless, or go

       Lonely to Hell.

       Look, my Lord Cardinal,

       Canst thou not see across my forehead here,

       In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge?

       Fetch me some water, I will wash it off:

       ‘Twas branded there last night, but in the daytime

       I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal?

       Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain:

       Give me a knife; not that one, but another,

       And I will cut it out.

      CARDINAL

       It is most natural

       To be incensed against the murderous hand

       That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord.

      DUCHESS

       I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand;

       But it will burn hereafter.

      CARDINAL

       Nay, the Church

       Ordains us to forgive our enemies.

      DUCHESS

       Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it.

       They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well.

       [Enter the LORD JUSTICE.]

      LORD JUSTICE

       Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege,

       We have long pondered on the point at issue,

       And much considered of your Grace’s wisdom,

       And never wisdom spake from fairer lips -

      DUCHESS

       Proceed, sir, without compliment.

      LORD JUSTICE

       We find,

       As your own Grace did rightly signify,

       That any citizen, who by force or craft

       Conspires against the person of the Liege,

       Is ipso facto outlaw, void of rights

       Such as pertain to other citizens,

       Is traitor, and a public enemy,

       Who may by any casual sword be slain