Was wont to pay him tribute -
GUIDO Come to his death.
MORANZONE
You will hear that soon enough. Being at war -
O noble lion of war, that would not suffer
Injustice done in Italy! - he led
The very flower of chivalry against
That foul adulterous Lord of Rimini,
Giovanni Malatesta - whom God curse!
And was by him in treacherous ambush taken,
And like a villain, or a low-born knave,
Was by him on the public scaffold murdered.
GUIDO [clutching his dagger] Doth Malatesta live?
MORANZONE No, he is dead.
GUIDO
Did you say dead? O too swift runner, Death,
Couldst thou not wait for me a little space,
And I had done thy bidding!
MORANZONE
[clutching his wrist] Thou canst do it!
The man who sold thy father is alive.
GUIDO Sold! was my father sold?
MORANZONE
Ay! trafficked for,
Like a vile chattel, for a price betrayed,
Bartered and bargained for in privy market
By one whom he had held his perfect friend,
One he had trusted, one he had well loved,
One whom by ties of kindness he had bound -
GUIDO
And he lives
Who sold my father?
MORANZONE I will bring you to him.
GUIDO
So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will make
This world thy field of blood, so buy it straightway,
For thou must hang there.
MORANZONE
Judas said you, boy?
Yes, Judas in his treachery, but still
He was more wise than Judas was, and held
Those thirty silver pieces not enough.
GUIDO What got he for my father’s blood?
MORANZONE
What got he?
Why cities, fiefs, and principalities,
Vineyards, and lands.
GUIDO
Of which he shall but keep
Six feet of ground to rot in. Where is he,
This damned villain, this foul devil? where?
Show me the man, and come he cased in steel,
In complete panoply and pride of war,
Ay, guarded by a thousand men-at-arms,
Yet I shall reach him through their spears, and feel
The last black drop of blood from his black heart
Crawl down my blade. Show me the man, I say,
And I will kill him.
MORANZONE [coldly]
Fool, what revenge is there?
Death is the common heritage of all,
And death comes best when it comes suddenly.
[Goes up close to GUIDO.]
Your father was betrayed, there is your cue;
For you shall sell the seller in his turn.
I will make you of his household, you shall sit
At the same board with him, eat of his bread -
GUIDO O bitter bread!
MORANZONE
Thy palate is too nice,
Revenge will make it sweet. Thou shalt o’ nights
Pledge him in wine, drink from his cup, and be
His intimate, so he will fawn on thee,
Love thee, and trust thee in all secret things.
If he bid thee be merry thou must laugh,
And if it be his humour to be sad
Thou shalt don sables. Then when the time is ripe -
[GUIDO clutches his sword.]
Nay, nay, I trust thee not; your hot young blood,
Undisciplined nature, and too violent rage
Will never tarry for this great revenge,
But wreck itself on passion.
GUIDO
Thou knowest me not.
Tell me the man, and I in everything
Will do thy bidding.
MORANZONE
Well, when the time is ripe,
The victim trusting and the occasion sure,
I will by sudden secret messenger
Send thee a sign.
GUIDO How shall I kill him, tell me?
MORANZONE
That night thou shalt creep into his private chamber;
But if he sleep see that thou wake him first,
And hold thy hand upon his throat, ay! that way,
Then having told him of what blood thou art,
Sprung from what father, and for what revenge,
Bid him to pray for mercy; when he prays,
Bid him to set a price upon his life,
And when he strips himself of all his gold
Tell him thou needest not gold, and hast not mercy,
And do thy business straight away. Swear to me
Thou wilt not kill him till I bid thee do it,
Or else I go to mine own house, and leave
Thee ignorant, and thy father unavenged.
GUIDO Now by my father’s sword -
MORANZONE
The common hangman
Brake that in sunder in the public square.
GUIDO Then by my father’s grave -
MORANZONE
What grave? what grave?
Your noble father lieth in no grave,
I saw his dust strewn on the air, his ashes
Whirled through the windy streets like common straws
To plague a beggar’s eyesight, and his head,
That gentle head, set on the prison spike,
For the vile rabble in their insolence
To shoot their tongues at.
GUIDO
Was it so indeed?
Then by my father’s spotless memory,
And by the shameful manner of his death,
And by the base betrayal by his friend,
For these at least remain, by these I swear
I will not lay my hand upon his life
Until you bid