Marfa monologue (Act 2) — Demetrius: A Play

Can terror blind your monarch so, that he Should hope deliverance from me--from me-- Whom he hath done immeasurable wrong? I shall, forsooth, deny the son whom heaven Restores me by a miracle from the grave, And to please him, the butcher of my house, Who piled upon me woes unspeakable? Yes, thrust from me the succor God has sent In the sad evening of my heavy anguish? No, thou escap'st me not. No, thou shalt hear me, I have thee fast, I will not let thee free. Oh, I can ease my bosom's load at last! At last launch forth against mine enemy The long-pent anger of my inmost soul! Who was it, who, That shut me up within this living tomb, In all the strength and freshness of my youth, With all its feelings glowing in my breast? Who from my bosom rent my darling son, And chartered ruffian hands to take his life? Oh, words can never tell what I have suffered, When, with a yearning that would not be still, I watched throughout the long, long starry nights, And noted with my tears the hours elapse! The day of succor comes, and of revenge; I see the mighty glorying in his might.