NOTE: 
105 yawn edition 1821; yawns editions 1819, 1839.

[BERNARDO RUSHES IN.]

BERNARDO: 
Oh, horrible! 120
That tears, that looks, that hope poured forth in prayer,
Even till the heart is vacant and despairs,
Should all be vain!  The ministers of death
Are waiting round the doors.  I thought I saw
Blood on the face of one...What if ’twere fancy? 125
Soon the heart’s blood of all I love on earth
Will sprinkle him, and he will wipe it off
As if ’twere only rain.  O life!  O world! 
Cover me! let me be no more!  To see
That perfect mirror of pure innocence 130
Wherein I gazed, and grew happy and good,
Shivered to dust!  To see thee, Beatrice,
Who made all lovely thou didst look upon... 
Thee, light of life ... dead, dark! while I say, sister,
To hear I have no sister; and thou, Mother, 135
Whose love was as a bond to all our loves... 
Dead!  The sweet bond broken!
[ENTER CAMILLO AND GUARDS.]
They come!  Let me
Kiss those warm lips before their crimson leaves
Are blighted...white...cold.  Say farewell, before
Death chokes that gentle voice!  Oh, let me hear 140
You speak!

NOTE: 
136 was as a Rossetti cj.; was a editions 1819, 1821, 1839.

BEATRICE: 
Farewell, my tender brother.  Think
Of our sad fate with gentleness, as now: 
And let mild, pitying thoughts lighten for thee
Thy sorrow’s load.  Err not in harsh despair,
But tears and patience.  One thing more, my child:  145
For thine own sake be constant to the love
Thou bearest us; and to the faith that I,
Though wrapped in a strange cloud of crime and shame,
Lived ever holy and unstained.  And though
Ill tongues shall wound me, and our common name 150
Be as a mark stamped on thine innocent brow
For men to point at as they pass, do thou
Forbear, and never think a thought unkind
Of those, who perhaps love thee in their graves. 
So mayest thou die as I do; fear and pain 155
Being subdued.  Farewell!  Farewell!  Farewell!

BERNARDO: 
I cannot say, farewell!

CAMILLO: 
Oh, Lady Beatrice!

BEATRICE: 
Give yourself no unnecessary pain,
My dear Lord Cardinal.  Here, Mother, tie
My girdle for me, and bind up this hair 160
In any simple knot; ay, that does well. 
And yours I see is coming down.  How often
Have we done this for one another; now
We shall not do it any more.  My Lord,
We are quite ready.  Well, ’tis very well. 165

THE END.

NOTE ON THE CENCI, BY MRS. SHELLEY.