CENCI: 
The third of my possessions!  I must use
Close husbandry, or gold, the old man’s sword,
Falls from my withered hand.  But yesterday
There came an order from the Pope to make
Fourfold provision for my cursed sons; 130
Whom I had sent from Rome to Salamanca,
Hoping some accident might cut them off;
And meaning if I could to starve them there. 
I pray thee, God, send some quick death upon them! 
Bernardo and my wife could not be worse 135
If dead and damned:—­then, as to Beatrice—­
[LOOKING AROUND HIM SUSPICIOUSLY.]
I think they cannot hear me at that door;
What if they should?  And yet I need not speak
Though the heart triumphs with itself in words. 
O, thou most silent air, that shalt not hear 140
What now I think!  Thou, pavement, which I tread
Towards her chamber,—­let your echoes talk
Of my imperious step scorning surprise,
But not of my intent!—­Andrea!

NOTES:  131 Whom I had edition 1821; Whom I have editions 1819, 1839. 140 that shalt edition 1821; that shall editions 1819, 1839.

[ENTER ANDREA.]

ANDREA: 
My lord?

CENCI: 
Bid Beatrice attend me in her chamber 145
This evening:—­no, at midnight and alone.

[EXEUNT.]

SCENE 1.2: 
A GARDEN OF THE CENCI PALACE. 
ENTER BEATRICE AND ORSINO, AS IN CONVERSATION.

BEATRICE: 
Pervert not truth,
Orsino.  You remember where we held
That conversation;—­nay, we see the spot
Even from this cypress;—­two long years are past
Since, on an April midnight, underneath 5
The moonlight ruins of Mount Palatine,
I did confess to you my secret mind.

ORSINO: 
You said you loved me then.

BEATRICE: 
You are a Priest. 
Speak to me not of love.

ORSINO: 
I may obtain
The dispensation of the Pope to marry. 10
Because I am a Priest do you believe
Your image, as the hunter some struck deer,
Follows me not whether I wake or sleep?

BEATRICE: 
As I have said, speak to me not of love;
Had you a dispensation I have not; 15
Nor will I leave this home of misery
Whilst my poor Bernard, and that gentle lady
To whom I owe life, and these virtuous thoughts,
Must suffer what I still have strength to share. 
Alas, Orsino!  All the love that once 20
I felt for you, is turned to bitter pain. 
Ours was a youthful contract, which you first
Broke, by assuming vows no Pope will loose. 
And thus I love you still, but holily,
Even as a sister or a spirit might; 25
And so I swear a cold fidelity.