Nay, my son, For the great power of our mother Church, Ends not with this poor bubble of a world, Of which we are but dust, as Jerome saith, For if the sinner doth repentant die, Our prayers and holy masses much avail To bring the guilty soul from purgatory. DUCHESS And when in purgatory thou seest my Lord With that red star of blood upon his heart, Tell him I sent thee hither. GUIDO O dear God! MORANZONE This is the woman, is it, whom you loved? CARDINAL Your Grace is very cruel to this man. DUCHESS No more than he was cruel to her Grace. CARDINAL Yet mercy is the sovereign right of princes. DUCHESS I got no mercy, and I give it not. He hath changed my heart into a heart of stone, He hath sown rank nettles in a goodly field, He hath poisoned the wells of pity in my breast, He hath withered up all kindness at the root; My life is as some famine murdered land, Whence all good things have perished utterly: I am what he hath made me. [_The_ DUCHESS _weeps_.] JEPPO Is it not strange That she should so have loved the wicked Duke? MAFFIO It is most strange when women love their lords, And when they love them not it is most strange. JEPPO What a philosopher thou art, Petrucci! MAFFIO Ay! I can bear the ills of other men, Which is philosophy. DUCHESS They tarry long, These greybeards and their council; bid them come; Bid them come quickly, else I think my heart Will beat itself to bursting: not indeed, That I here care to live; God knows my life Is not so full of joy, yet, for all that, I would not die companionless, or go Lonely to Hell. Look, my Lord Cardinal, Canst thou not see across my forehead here, In scarlet letters writ, the word Revenge? Fetch me some water, I will wash it off: ’Twas branded there last night, but in the day-time I need not wear it, need I, my Lord Cardinal? Oh, how it sears and burns into my brain: Give me a knife; not that one, but another, And I will cut it out. CARDINAL It is most natural To be incensed against the murderous hand That treacherously stabbed your sleeping lord. DUCHESS I would, old Cardinal, I could burn that hand; But it will burn hereafter. CARDINAL Nay, the Church Ordains us to forgive our enemies. DUCHESS Forgiveness? what is that? I never got it. They come at last: well, my Lord Justice, well. [_Enter the_ LORD JUSTICE.] LORD JUSTICE Most gracious Lady, and our sovereign Liege, We have long pondered on the point at issue, And much considered of your Grace’s wisdom, And never wisdom spake from fairer lips— DUCHESS Proceed, sir, without compliment. LORD JUSTICE