by Percy Bysshe Shelley
SCENE 1.2:

SCENE 1.3:




 CENCI: Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye, Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church, Whose presence honours our festivity. I have too long lived like an anchorite, And in my absence from your merry meetings An evil word is gone abroad of me; But I do hope that you, my noble friends, When you have shared the entertainment here, And heard the pious cause for which 'tis given, And we have pledged a health or two together, Will think me flesh and blood as well as you; Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so, But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful. 
 FIRST GUEST: In truth, my Lord, you seem too light of heart, Too sprightly and companionable a man, To act the deeds that rumour pins on you. [TO HIS COMPANION.] I never saw such blithe and open cheer In any eye! 
 SECOND GUEST: Some most desired event, In which we all demand a common joy, Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count. 
 CENCI: It is indeed a most desired event. If when a parent from a parent's heart Lifts from this earth to the great Father of all A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep, And when he rises up from dreaming it; One supplication, one desire, one hope, That he would grant a wish for his two sons, Even all that he demands in their regard- And suddenly beyond his dearest hope It is accomplished, he should then rejoice, And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast, And task their love to grace his merriment,- Then honour me thus far-for I am he. 
 BEATRICE [TO LUCRETIA]: Great God! How horrible! some dreadful ill Must have befallen my brothers. 
 LUCRETIA: Fear not, child, He speaks too frankly. 
 BEATRICE: Ah! My blood runs cold. I fear that wicked laughter round his eye, Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair. 
 CENCI: Here are the letters brought from Salamanca; Beatrice, read them to your mother. God! I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform, By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought. My disobedient and rebellious sons Are dead!-Why, dead!-What means this change of cheer? You hear me not, I tell you they are dead; And they will need no food or raiment more: The tapers that did light them the dark way Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not Expect I should maintain them in their coffins. Rejoice with me-my heart is wondrous glad. 
 BEATRICE : It is not true!-Dear Lady, pray look up. Had it been true, there is a God in Heaven, He would not live to boast of such a boon. Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false. 
 CENCI: Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call To witness that I speak the sober truth;- And whose most favouring Providence was shown Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others, When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy, The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano Was stabbed in error by a jealous man, Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival; All in the self-same hour of the same night; Which shows that Heaven has special care of me. I beg those friends who love me, that they mark The day a feast upon their calendars. It was the twenty-seventh of December: Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath. 
 FIRST GUEST: Oh, horrible! I will depart- 
 THIRD GUEST: No, stay! I do believe it is some jest; though faith! 'Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly. I think his son has married the Infanta, Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado. 'Tis but to season some such news; stay, stay! I see 'tis only raillery by his smile. 
 CENCI [FILLING A BOWL OF WINE, AND LIFTING IT UP]: Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl Under the lamplight, as my spirits do, To hear the death of my accursed sons! Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood, Then would I taste thee like a sacrament, And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell, Who, if a father's curses, as men say, Climb with swift wings after their children's souls, And drag them from the very throne of Heaven, Now triumphs in my triumph!-But thou art Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine to-night. Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around. 
 A GUEST [RISING]: Thou wretch! Will none among this noble company Check the abandoned villain? 
 CAMILLO: For God's sake, Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane, Some ill will come of this. 
 SECOND GUEST: Seize, silence him! 
 FIRST GUEST: I will! 
 CENCI [ADDRESSING THOSE WHO RISE WITH A THREATENING GESTURE]: Who moves? Who speaks? [TURNING TO THE COMPANY.] 'tis nothing, Enjoy yourselves.-Beware! For my revenge Is as the sealed commission of a king That kills, and none dare name the murderer. 
 BEATRICE: I do entreat you, go not, noble guests; What, although tyranny and impious hate Stand sheltered by a father's hoary hair? What if 'tis he who clothed us in these limbs Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we, The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh, His children and his wife, whom he is bound To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find No refuge in this merciless wide world? O think what deep wrongs must have blotted out First love, then reverence in a child's prone mind, Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! O think! I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke Was perhaps some paternal chastisement! Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt Remained, have sought by patience, love, and tears To soften him, and when this could not be I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights And lifted up to God, the Father of all, Passionate prayers: and when these were not heard I have still borne,-until I meet you here, Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast Given at my brothers' deaths. Two yet remain, His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not, Ye may soon share such merriment again As fathers make over their children's graves. O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman, Cardinal, thou art the Pope's chamberlain, Camillo, thou art chief justiciary, Take us away! 
 CENCI [HE HAS BEEN CONVERSING WITH CAMILLO DURING THE FIRST PART OF BEATRICE'S SPEECH; HE HEARS THE CONCLUSION, AND NOW ADVANCES]: I hope my good friends here Will think of their own daughters-or perhaps Of their own throats-before they lend an ear To this wild girl. 
 BEATRICE [NOT NOTICING THE WORDS OF CENCI]: Dare no one look on me?[1] None answer? Can one tyrant overbear The sense of many best and wisest men? Or is it that I sue not in some form Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit? O God! That I were buried with my brothers! And that the flowers of this departed spring Were fading on my grave! And that my father Were celebrating now one feast for all! 
 CAMILLO: A bitter wish for one so young and gentle. Can we do nothing? 
 COLONNA: Nothing that I see. Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy: Yet I would second any one. 
 CENCI: Retire to your chamber, insolent girl! 
 BEATRICE: Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself Where never eye can look upon thee more! Wouldst thou have honour and obedience Who art a torturer? Father, never dream, Though thou mayst overbear this company, But ill must come of ill.-Frown not on me! Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks My brothers' ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat! Cover thy face from every living eye, And start if thou but hear a human step: Seek out some dark and silent corner, there, Bow thy white head before offended God, And we will kneel around, and fervently Pray that he pity both ourselves and thee. 
 CENCI: My friends, I do lament this insane girl Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity. Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels. Another time.- [EXEUNT ALL BUT CENCI AND BEATRICE.] My brain is swimming round; Give me a bowl of wine! [TO BEATRICE.] Thou painted viper! Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible! I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame, Now get thee from my sight! [EXIT BEATRICE.] Here, Andrea, Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said I would not drink this evening; but I must; For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail With thinking what I have decreed to do.- [DRINKING THE WINE.] Be thou the resolution of quick youth Within my veins, and manhood's purpose stern, And age's firm, cold, subtle villainy; As if thou wert indeed my children's blood Which I did thirst to drink! The charm works well; It must be done; it shall be done, I swear! 

no edition 1821; not edition 1819.