Revenge! I think I never harmed a little child. What should Revenge do coming to my door? It matters not, for Death is there already, Waiting with his dim torch to light my way. ’Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover, And so dispatch the messengers at once, Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day, And let the night, thy sister, come instead, And drape the world in mourning; let the owl, Who is thy minister, scream from his tower And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat, That is the slave of dim Persephone, Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing! Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth And bid them make us music, and tell the mole To dig deep down thy cold and narrow bed, For I shall lie within thine arms to-night. END OF ACT II. * * * * * ACT III SCENE _A large corridor in the Ducal Palace_: _a window_ (_L.C._) _looks out on a view of Padua by moonlight_: _a staircase_ (_R.C._) _leads up to a door with a portière of crimson velvet_, _with the Duke’s arms embroidered in gold on it_: _on the lowest step of the staircase a figure draped in black is sitting_: _the hall is lit by an iron cresset filled with burning tow_: _thunder and lightning outside_: _the time is night_. [_Enter_ GUIDO _through the window_.] GUIDO The wind is rising: how my ladder shook! I thought that every gust would break the cords! [_Looks out at the city_.] Christ! What a night: Great thunder in the heavens, and wild lightnings Striking from pinnacle to pinnacle Across the city, till the dim houses seem To shudder and to shake as each new glare Dashes adown the street. [_Passes across the stage to foot of staircase_.] Ah! who art thou That sittest on the stair, like unto Death Waiting a guilty soul? [_A pause_.] Canst thou not speak? Or has this storm laid palsy on thy tongue, And chilled thy utterance? [_The figure rises and takes off his mask_.] MORANZONE Guido Ferranti, Thy murdered father laughs for joy to-night. GUIDO [_confusedly_] What, art thou here? MORANZONE Ay, waiting for your coming. GUIDO [_looking away from him_] I did not think to see you, but am glad, That you may know the thing I mean to do. MORANZONE First, I would have you know my well-laid plans; Listen: I have set horses at the gate Which leads to Parma: when you have done your business We will ride hence, and by to-morrow night— GUIDO It cannot be. MORANZONE Nay, but it shall. GUIDO Listen, Lord Moranzone, I am resolved not to kill this man. MORANZONE