The Duchess of Padua Part 11

Nor shall be, While I am Duke in Padua: listen, Madam, Being mine own, you shall do as I will, And if it be my will you keep the house, Why then, this palace shall your prison be; And if it be my will you walk abroad, Why, you shall take the air from morn to night.

d.u.c.h.eSS

Sir, by what right -?

DUKE

Madam, my second d.u.c.h.ess Asked the same question once: her monument Lies in the chapel of Bartholomew, Wrought in red marble; very beautiful.

Guido, your arm. Come, gentlemen, let us go And spur our falcons for the mid-day chase.

Bethink you, Madam, you are here alone.

[Exit the DUKE leaning on GUIDO, with his Court.]

d.u.c.h.eSS

[looking after them]

The Duke said rightly that I was alone; Deserted, and dishonoured, and defamed, Stood ever woman so alone indeed?

Men when they woo us call us pretty children, Tell us we have not wit to make our lives, And so they mar them for us. Did I say woo?

We are their chattels, and their common slaves, Less dear than the poor hound that licks their hand, Less fondled than the hawk upon their wrist.

Woo, did I say? bought rather, sold and bartered, Our very bodies being merchandise.

I know it is the general lot of women, Each miserably mated to some man Wrecks her own life upon his selfishness: That it is general makes it not less bitter.

I think I never heard a woman laugh, Laugh for pure merriment, except one woman, That was at night time, in the public streets.

Poor soul, she walked with painted lips, and wore The mask of pleasure: I would not laugh like her; No, death were better.

[Enter GUIDO behind un.o.bserved; the d.u.c.h.eSS flings herself down before a picture of the Madonna.]

O Mary mother, with your sweet pale face Bending between the little angel heads That hover round you, have you no help for me?

Mother of G.o.d, have you no help for me?

GUIDO

I can endure no longer.

This is my love, and I will speak to her.

Lady, am I a stranger to your prayers?

d.u.c.h.eSS

[rising]

None but the wretched needs my prayers, my lord.

GUIDO

Then must I need them, lady.

d.u.c.h.eSS

How is that?

Does not the Duke show thee sufficient honour?

GUIDO

Your Grace, I lack no favours from the Duke, Whom my soul loathes as I loathe wickedness, But come to proffer on my bended knees, My loyal service to thee unto death.

d.u.c.h.eSS

Alas! I am so fallen in estate I can but give thee a poor meed of thanks.

GUIDO

[seizing her hand]

Hast thou no love to give me?

[The d.u.c.h.eSS starts, and GUIDO falls at her feet.]

O dear saint, If I have been too daring, pardon me!

Thy beauty sets my boyish blood aflame, And, when my reverent lips touch thy white hand, Each little nerve with such wild pa.s.sion thrills That there is nothing which I would not do To gain thy love. [Leaps up.]

Bid me reach forth and pluck Perilous honour from the lion's jaws, And I will wrestle with the Nemean beast On the bare desert! Fling to the cave of War A gaud, a ribbon, a dead flower, something That once has touched thee, and I'll bring it back Though all the hosts of Christendom were there, Inviolate again! ay, more than this, Set me to scale the pallid white-faced cliffs Of mighty England, and from that arrogant s.h.i.+eld Will I raze out the lilies of your France Which England, that sea-lion of the sea, Hath taken from her!

O dear Beatrice, Drive me not from thy presence! without thee The heavy minutes crawl with feet of lead, But, while I look upon thy loveliness, The hours fly like winged Mercuries And leave existence golden.

d.u.c.h.eSS

I did not think I should be ever loved: do you indeed Love me so much as now you say you do?

GUIDO

Ask of the sea-bird if it loves the sea, Ask of the roses if they love the rain, Ask of the little lark, that will not sing Till day break, if it loves to see the day:- And yet, these are but empty images, Mere shadows of my love, which is a fire So great that all the waters of the main Can not avail to quench it. Will you not speak?

d.u.c.h.eSS

I hardly know what I should say to you.

GUIDO

Will you not say you love me?

d.u.c.h.eSS

Is that my lesson?

Must I say all at once? 'Twere a good lesson If I did love you, sir; but, if I do not, What shall I say then?

GUIDO

If you do not love me, Say, none the less, you do, for on your tongue Falsehood for very shame would turn to truth.

d.u.c.h.eSS

What if I do not speak at all? They say Lovers are happiest when they are in doubt

GUIDO

Nay, doubt would kill me, and if I must die, Why, let me die for joy and not for doubt.

Oh, tell me may I stay, or must I go?

d.u.c.h.eSS