The Cenci: A Tragedy in Five Acts

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Shelley Society, 1886 - 107ÆäÀÌÁö
A horrific tragedy, set in 1599 in Rome, of a young woman executed for pre-meditated murder of her tyrannical father.

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xii ÆäÀÌÁö - Undoubtedly, no person can be truly dishonoured by the act of another; and the fit return to make to the most enormous injuries is kindness and forbearance, and a resolution to convert the injurer from his dark passions by peace and love. Revenge, retaliation, atonement, are pernicious mistakes. If Beatrice had thought in this manner she would have been wiser and better; but she would never have been a tragic character...
xv ÆäÀÌÁö - ... the patience of gentleness. Her head is bound with folds of white drapery from which the yellow strings of her golden hair escape, and fall about her neck. The moulding of her face is exquisitely delicate; the eyebrows are distinct and arched; the lips have that permanent meaning of imagination and sensibility which suffering has not repressed and which it seems as if death scarcely could extinguish.
33 ÆäÀÌÁö - And winds with short turns down the precipice. And in its depth there is a mighty rock, Which has, from unimaginable years, Sustained itself with terror and with toil Over a gulf, and with the agony With which it clings seems slowly coming down ; — Even as a wretched soul hour after hour Clings to the mass of life ; yet, clinging, leans ; And, leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall.
79 ÆäÀÌÁö - Have met with much injustice in this world; No difference has been made by God or man, Or any power moulding my wretched lot, 'Twixt good or evil, as regarded me. I am cut off from the only world I know, From light, and life, and love, in youth's sweet prime. You do well telling me to trust in God, I hope I do trust in him. In whom else Can any trust ? And yet my heart is cold.
78 ÆäÀÌÁö - My God! Can it be possible I have To die so suddenly? So young to go Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground! To be nailed down into a narrow place; To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost — How fearful!
78 ÆäÀÌÁö - Masked in grey hairs and wrinkles, he should come And wind me in his hellish arms, and fix His eyes on mine, and drag me down, down, down! For was he not alone omnipotent On Earth, and ever present? Even tho...
74 ÆäÀÌÁö - And of the soul; ay, of the inmost soul, Which weeps within tears as of burning gall To see, in this ill world where none are true, My kindred false to their deserted selves. And with considering all the wretched life Which I have lived, and its now wretched end, And the small justice shown by Heaven and Earth To me or mine; and what a tyrant thou art, And what slaves these ; and what a world we make, The oppressor and the oppressed — such pangs compel My answer.
78 ÆäÀÌÁö - Even though dead, Does not his spirit live in all that breathe, And work for me and mine still the same ruin, Scorn, pain, despair? "Who ever yet returned To teach the laws of death's untrodden realm?
xi ÆäÀÌÁö - ... confidences and misgivings, their various interests, passions and opinions, acting upon and with each other, yet all conspiring to one tremendous end, would be as a light to make apparent some of the most dark and secret caverns of the human heart. On my arrival at Rome, I found that the story of the Cenci was a subject not to be mentioned in Italian society without awakening a deep and breathless interest...

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