LUCRETIA: Ha! they will bind us to the rack, and wrest _170 Self-accusation from our agony! Will Giacomo be there? Orsino? Marzio? All present; all confronted; all demanding Each from the other's countenance the thing Which is in every heart! O, misery! _175 [SHE FAINTS, AND IS BORNE OUT.] SAVELLA: She faints: an ill appearance this. BEATRICE: My Lord, She knows not yet the uses of the world. She fears that power is as a beast which grasps And loosens not: a snake whose look transmutes All things to guilt which is its nutriment. _180 She cannot know how well the supine slaves Of blind authority read the truth of things When written on a brow of guilelessness: She sees not yet triumphant Innocence Stand at the judgement-seat of mortal man, _185 A judge and an accuser of the wrong Which drags it there. Prepare yourself, my Lord; Our suite will join yours in the court below. [EXEUNT.] END OF ACT 4. ACT 5. SCENE 5.1: AN APARTMENT IN ORSINO'S PALACE. ENTER ORSINO AND GIACOMO. GIACOMO: Do evil deeds thus quickly come to end? O, that the vain remorse which must chastise Crimes done, had but as loud a voice to warn As its keen sting is mortal to avenge! O, that the hour when present had cast off _5 The mantle of its mystery, and shown The ghastly form with which it now returns When its scared game is roused, cheering the hounds Of conscience to their prey! Alas! Alas! It was a wicked thought, a piteous deed, _10 To kill an old and hoary-headed father. ORSINO: It has turned out unluckily, in truth. GIACOMO: To violate the sacred doors of sleep; To cheat kind Nature of the placid death Which she prepares for overwearied age; _15 To drag from Heaven an unrepentant soul Which might have quenched in reconciling prayers A life of burning crimes... ORSINO: You cannot say I urged you to the deed. GIACOMO: O, had I never Found in thy smooth and ready countenance _20 The mirror of my darkest thoughts; hadst thou Never with hints and questions made me look Upon the monster of my thought, until It grew familiar to desire... ORSINO: 'Tis thus Men cast the blame of their unprosperous acts _25 Upon the abettors of their own resolve; Or anything but their weak, guilty selves. And yet, confess the truth, it is the peril In which you stand that gives you this pale sickness Of penitence; confess 'tis fear disguised _30 From its own shame that takes the mantle now Of thin remorse. What if we yet were safe? GIACOMO: How can that be? Already Beatrice, Lucretia and the murderer are in prison. I doubt not officers are, whilst we speak, _35 Sent to arrest us. ORSINO: I have all prepared For instant flight. We can escape even now, So we take fleet occasion by the hair.