GUIDO: O God! You have not drunk it, Beatrice?
Tell me you have not?

DUCHESS: Were I to deny it,
There is a fire eating at my heart
Which would find utterance.

GUIDO: O treacherous love,
Why have you not left a drop for me?

DUCHESS: No, no, it held but death enough for one.

GUIDO: Is there no poison still upon your lips,
That I may draw it from them?

DUCHESS: Why should you die?
You have not spilt blood, and so need not die:
I have spilt blood, and therefore I must die.
Was it not said blood should be spilt for blood?
Who said that? I forget.

GUIDO: Tarry for me,
Our souls will go together.

DUCHESS: Nay, you must live.
There are many other women in the world
Who will love you, and not murder for your sake.

GUIDO: I love you only.

DUCHESS: You need not die for that.

GUIDO: Ah, if we die together, love, why then
Can we not lie together in one grave.

DUCHESS: A grave is but a narrow wedding-bed.

GUIDO: It is enough for us.

DUCHESS: And they will strew it

With a stark winding-sheet, and bitter herbs;
I think there are no roses in the grave,
Or if there are, they all are withered now
Since my Lord went there.

GUIDO: Ah! Dear Beatrice,
Your lips are roses that death cannot wither.

DUCHESS: Nay, if we lie together, will not my lips
Fall into dust, and your enamoured eyes
Shrivel to sightless sockets, and the worms,
Which are our groomsmen, eat away your heart?

GUIDO: I do not care: Death has no power on love,
And so by Love’s immortal sovereignty
I will die with you.

DUCHESS: But the grave is black,
And the pit black, so I must go before
To light the candles for your coming hither.
No, no, I will not die, I will not die.
Love, you are strong, and young, and very brave,
Stand between me and the angel of death,
And wrestle with him for me.

Thrusts GUIDO in front of her with his back to the audience.

I will kiss you,
When you have thrown him. Oh, have you no cordial,
To stay the workings of this poison in me?
Are there no rivers left in Italy
That you will not fetch me one cup of water
To quench this fire?

GUIDO: O God!

DUCHESS: You did not tell me
There was a drought in Italy, and no water,
Nothing but fire.

GUIDO: O Love!

DUCHESS: Send for a leech,
Not him who stanched my husband, but another,
We have no time: send for a leech, I say:
There is an antidote against each poison,
And he will sell it if we give him money.
Tell him that I will give him Padua,
For one short hour of life: I will not die.
Oh, I am sick to death; no, do not touch me,
This poison gnaws my heart: I did not know
It was such pain to die: I thought that life
Had taken all the agonies to itself;
It seems it is not so.