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And if I strike my damp and dizzy head,
My hot palm scorches it; her very name,
But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart
Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably 140
I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights
Till weak imagination half possesses
The self-created shadow. Yet much longer
Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours.
From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo
I must work out my own dear purposes.
I see, as from a tower, the end of all:
Her father dead; her brother bound to

me

By a dark secret, surer than the grave; Her mother scared and unexpostulating 150

From the dread manner of her wish achieved;

And she! Once more take courage, my faint heart;

What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee?

I have such foresight as assures success.
Some unbeheld divinity doth ever,
When dread events are near, stir up men's
minds

To black suggestions; and be prospers best,

Not who becomes the instrument of ill, But who can flatter the dark spirit that makes

Its empire and its prey of other hearts 160 Till it become his slave-as I will do.

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Is changed to vapors such as the dead breathe

In charnel-pits! Pah! I am choked!
There creeps

A clinging, black, contaminating mist
About me 't is substantial, heavy, thick;
I cannot pluck it from me, for it glues
My fingers and my limbs to one another, 20
And eats into my sinews, and dissolves
My flesh to a pollution, poisoning
The subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of life!
My God! I never knew what the mad felt
Before; for I am mad beyond all doubt!
(More wildly)

No, I am dead! These putrefying limbs
Shut round and sepulchre the panting soul
Which would burst forth into the wander-
ing air!

(A pause) What hideous thought was that I had even

now?

29

'Tis gone; and yet its burden remains here O'er these dull eyes - upon this weary heart!

O world! O life! O day! O misery!

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110

Is like a ghost shrouded and folded up
In its own formless horror- of all words,
That minister to mortal intercourse,
Which wouldst thou hear? for there is
none to tell

My misery; if another ever knew
Aught like to it, she died as I will die,
And left it, as I must, without a name.

ORSINO

And what is he who has thus injured you?

BEATRICE

The man they call my father; a dread

name.

Death, death! our law and our religion It cannot be —

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ORSINO

BEATRICE

What it can be, or not, It is, and it has been; shall not be again.

I thought to die; but a religious awe Restrains me, and the dread lest death itself

149

Might be no refuge from the consciousness Of what is yet unexpiated. Oh, speak!

ORSINO

Accuse him of the deed, and let the law Avenge thee.

BEATRICE

Oh, ice-hearted counsellor ! If I could find a word that might make

known

The crime of my destroyer; and that done, My tongue should like a knife tear out the

secret

Which cankers my heart's core; ay, lay all

bare,

So that my unpolluted fame should be
With vilest gossips a stale mouthed story;
A mock, a byword, an astonishment:
If this were done, which never shall be

done,

160

Think of the offender's gold, his dreaded hate,

And the strange horror of the accuser's tale,

Baffling belief, and overpowering speech; Scarce whispered, unimaginable, wrapped In hideous hints - Oh, most assured redress !

ORSINO

You will endure it then?

BEATRICE

Endure! Orsino, It seems your counsel is small profit. (Turns from him, and speaks half to herself) Ay,

All must be suddenly resolved and done.

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