s it the Duke's custom to have done
With this dead wood on his estate?

AGENT. He burns it,
Your Majesty.

BEA. You mean to say, I think,
He pays a price to have it gathered and burned.

AGENT. Ay, Majesty.

BEA. Where is it burned?

AGENT. In a clearing.

BEA. And what is cooked upon it?

AGENT. Nothing is cooked.
The Duke is not a gypsy. [With irritation.]

[Pause.]
[Slight titter in court-room, instantly hushed into profound silence.]

BEA. [Evenly.] If he were,
He would be shrewder, and not be paying money
For what this woman is glad to do for naught.
Nothing is cooked, and nobody is warmed,--
A most unthrifty fire! Do you bid the Duke,
Until he show me sounder cause for plaint,
Permit this woman to gather unmolested
Dead wood in his forest, and bear it home.--Lisa,
Take care you break no half-green boughs.--The next case?

CLERK. Is that of Mario, a miller, accused
Of stealing grain. A baker, by name Pietro,
Brings this complaint against him,

MESSENGER. [Rushing in and up to throne.] Majesty,
Bianca of Lagoverde lies a-dying,
And calls for you!

BEA. [Rising.] She calls for me?

MESSENGER. Ay, Majesty.

[Beatrice stands very still a moment, then turns to the townspeople.]

BEA. [Earnestly and rapidly,] You people, do you go now and live kindly
Till I return. I may not stay to judge you;
Wherefore I set you free. For I would rather
A knave should go at large than that a just man
Be punished. If there be a knave among you,
Let him live thoughtfully till I return.

[She steps down from the throne, and is immediately
seized by the arm on either side by the two guards who
have been standing beside the throne.]

BEA. Why, what is this, Enrico? [Looking up at the soldier on her right.]
Nay, it is not
Enrico! [Looking to other side.] Nor is it Pablo! How is this?

[From each side of the stage one row of the double
row of soldiers detaches itself, marches down around the
front of the stage and up towards the throne, making an
armed alley for the Queen to walk down, and entirely
surrounding the crowd.]

Nay, all new faces. So! Upon my word,
And keep your fingers from me!--I see you there,
Angelo! Do not turn your head aside!
And you, Filippo!--Is the sick hand better
I bound the bandage on?--Is't well enough
To draw a sword against me?--Na