BEATRICE: 
Take it!  Depart!  Return!
[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.]
How pale thou art! 
We do but that which ’twere a deadly crime
To leave undone.

LUCRETIA: 
Would it were done!

BEATRICE: 
Even whilst
That doubt is passing through your mind, the world
Is conscious of a change.  Darkness and Hell 40
Have swallowed up the vapour they sent forth
To blacken the sweet light of life.  My breath
Comes, methinks, lighter, and the jellied blood
Runs freely through my veins.  Hark!
[ENTER OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.]
He is...

OLIMPIO: 
Dead!

MARZIO: 
We strangled him that there might be no blood; 45
And then we threw his heavy corpse i’ the garden
Under the balcony; ’twill seem it fell.

BEATRICE [GIVING THEM A BAG OF COIN]: 
Here, take this gold, and hasten to your homes. 
And, Marzio, because thou wast only awed
By that which made me tremble, wear thou this! 50
[CLOTHES HIM IN A RICH MANTLE.]
It was the mantle which my grandfather
Wore in his high prosperity, and men
Envied his state:  so may they envy thine. 
Thou wert a weapon in the hand of God
To a just use.  Live long and thrive!  And, mark, 55
If thou hast crimes, repent:  this deed is none.

[A HORN IS SOUNDED.]

LUCRETIA: 
Hark, ’tis the castle horn:  my God! it sounds
Like the last trump.

BEATRICE: 
Some tedious guest is coming.

LUCRETIA: 
The drawbridge is let down; there is a tramp
Of horses in the court; fly, hide yourselves! 60

[EXEUNT OLIMPIO AND MARZIO.]

BEATRICE: 
Let us retire to counterfeit deep rest;
I scarcely need to counterfeit it now: 
The spirit which doth reign within these limbs
Seems strangely undisturbed.  I could even sleep
Fearless and calm:  all ill is surely past. 65

[EXEUNT.]

SCENE 4.4: 
ANOTHER APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE. 
ENTER ON ONE SIDE THE LEGATE SAVELLA,
INTRODUCED BY A SERVANT,
AND ON THE OTHER LUCRETIA AND BERNARDO.

SAVELLA: 
Lady, my duty to his Holiness
Be my excuse that thus unseasonably
I break upon your rest.  I must speak with
Count Cenci; doth he sleep?

LUCRETIA [IN A HURRIED AND CONFUSED MANNER]: 
I think he sleeps;
Yet, wake him not, I pray, spare me awhile, 5
He is a wicked and a wrathful man;
Should he be roused out of his sleep to-night,
Which is, I know, a hell of angry dreams,
It were not well; indeed it were not well. 
Wait till day break...
[ASIDE.]
Oh, I am deadly sick! 10

NOTE: 
6 a wrathful edition 1821; wrathful editions 1819, 1839.