GUIDO: Unhand me, knaves! I tell thee, my Lord Justice,
Thou mightest as well bid the untrammeled ocean,
The winter whirlwind, or the Alpine storm,
Nor roar their will, as bid me hold my peace!
Ay! Though ye put your knives into my throat,
Each grim and gaping wound shall find a tongue,
And cry against you.

LORD JUSTICE: Sir, this violence
Avails you nothing; for save the tribunal
Give thee a lawful right to open speech,
Naught that thou sayest can be credited.

The DUCHESS smiles and GUIDO falls back with a gesture of despair.

Madam, myself, and these wise Justices,
Will with your Grace’s sanction now retire
Into another chamber, to decide
And search the statutes and the precedents.

DUCHESS: Go, my Lord Justice, search the statutes well,
Nor let this brawling traitor have his way.

MORANZONE: Go, my Lord Justice, search thy conscience well,
Nor let a man be sent to death unheard.

Exit the LORD JUSTICE and the Judges.

DUCHESS: Silence, thou evil genius of my life!
Thou com’st between us two a second time;
This time, my lord, I think the turn is mine.

GUIDO: I shall not die till I have uttered voice.

DUCHESS: Thou shalt die silent, and thy secret with thee.

GUIDO: Art thou that Beatrice, Duchess of Padua?

DUCHESS: I am what thou hast made me; look at me well,
I am thy handiwork.

MAFFIO: See, is she not
Like that white tigress which we saw at Venice,
Sent by some Indian soldan to the Doge.

JEPPO: Hush! She may hear thy chatter.

HEADSMAN: My young fellow,
I do not know why thou shouldst care to speak,
Seeing my axe is close upon thy neck,
And words of thine will never blunt its edge.
But if thou art so bent upon it, why
Thou mightest plead unto the Churchman yonder:
The common people call him kindly here,
Indeed I know he has a kindly soul.

GUIDO: This man, whose trade is death, hath courtesies
More than the others.

HEADSMAN: Why, God love you, sir,
I’ll do you your last service on this earth.

GUIDO: My good Lord Cardinal, in a Christian land,
With Lord Christ’s face of mercy looking down
From the high seat of Judgment, shall a man
Die unabsolved, unshrived? And if not so
May I not tell this dreadful tale of sin,
If any sin there be upon my soul.

DUCHESS: Thou dost but waste thy time.

CARDINAL: Alack, my son,
I have no power with the secular arm.
My task begins when justice has been done,
To urge the wavering sinner to repent
And to confess to Holy Church’s ear
The dreadful secrets of a sinful mind.

DUCHESS: Thou mayest speak to the confessional
Until thy lips grow weary of their tale,
But here thou shalt not speak.

GUIDO: My reverend father,
You bring me but cold comfort.