The stars have fought against me, that is all, And thus to-night when my Lord lieth asleep, Will I fall upon my dagger, and so cease. My heart is such a stone nothing can reach it Except the dagger’s edge: let it go there, To find what name it carries: ay! to-night Death will divorce the Duke; and yet to-night He may die also, he is very old. Why should he not die? Yesterday his hand Shook with a palsy: men have died from palsy, And why not he? Are there not fevers also, Agues and chills, and other maladies Most incident to old age? No, no, he will not die, he is too sinful; Honest men die before their proper time. Good men will die: men by whose side the Duke In all the sick pollution of his life Seems like a leper: women and children die, But the Duke will not die, he is too sinful. Oh, can it be There is some immortality in sin, Which virtue has not? And does the wicked man Draw life from what to other men were death, Like poisonous plants that on corruption live? No, no, I think God would not suffer that: Yet the Duke will not die: he is too sinful. But I will die alone, and on this night Grim Death shall be my bridegroom, and the tomb My secret house of pleasure: well, what of that? The world’s a graveyard, and we each, like coffins, Within us bear a skeleton. [_Enter_ LORD MORANZONE _all in black_; _he passes across the back of the stage looking anxiously about_.] MORANZONE Where is Guido? I cannot find him anywhere. DUCHESS [_catches sight of him_] O God! ’Twas thou who took my love away from me. MORANZONE [_with a look of joy_] What, has he left you? DUCHESS Nay, you know he has. Oh, give him back to me, give him back, I say, Or I will tear your body limb from limb, And to the common gibbet nail your head Until the carrion crows have stripped it bare. Better you had crossed a hungry lioness Before you came between me and my love. [_With more pathos_.] Nay, give him back, you know not how I love him. Here by this chair he knelt a half hour since; ’Twas there he stood, and there he looked at me; This is the hand he kissed, and these the ears Into whose open portals he did pour A tale of love so musical that all The birds stopped singing! Oh, give him back to me. MORANZONE He does not love you, Madam. DUCHESS May the plague Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back. MORANZONE Madam, I tell you you will never see him, Neither to-night, nor any other night. DUCHESS What is your name? MORANZONE My name? Revenge! [_Exit_.] DUCHESS