Then when you saw my noble father last He was set high above the heads of men?
[_Walks over to_ GUIDO _and puts his hand upon his shoulder_.]
On a red scaffold, with a butcher’s block Set for his neck.
What dreadful man art thou, That like a raven, or the midnight owl, Com’st with this awful message from the grave?
I am known here as the Count Moranzone, Lord of a barren castle on a rock, With a few acres of unkindly land And six not thrifty servants. But I was one Of Parma’s noblest princes; more than that, I was your father’s friend.
You are the son of that great Duke Lorenzo, He was the Prince of Parma, and the Duke Of all the fair domains of Lombardy Down to the gates of Florence; nay, Florence even Was wont to pay him tribute—
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.
Did you say dead? O too swift runner, Death, Couldst thou not wait for me a little space, And I had done thy bidding!
Thou canst do it! The man who sold thy father is alive.
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—
So, Judas, thou art living! well, I will make This world thy field of blood, so buy it straight-way, For thou must hang there.
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.
What got he? Why cities, fiefs, and principalities, Vineyards, and lands.
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.