ENTER BERNARDO. by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is a powerful moment from Shelley's verse play *The Cenci*, where Beatrice Cenci — sentenced for the murder of her abusive father — confronts her accusers with bold defiance, while her brother Bernardo and mother Lucretia break down under torture.
The poem
BERNARDO: How gently slumber rests upon her face, Like the last thoughts of some day sweetly spent Closing in night and dreams, and so prolonged. After such torments as she bore last night, How light and soft her breathing comes. Ay me! _5 Methinks that I shall never sleep again. But I must shake the heavenly dew of rest From this sweet folded flower, thus...wake, awake! What, sister, canst thou sleep? BEATRICE [AWAKING]: I was just dreaming That we were all in Paradise. Thou knowest _10 This cell seems like a kind of Paradise After our father’s presence. BERNARDO: Dear, dear sister, Would that thy dream were not a dream! O God! How shall I tell? BEATRICE: What wouldst thou tell, sweet brother? BERNARDO: Look not so calm and happy, or even whilst _15 I stand considering what I have to say My heart will break. BEATRICE: See now, thou mak’st me weep: How very friendless thou wouldst be, dear child, If I were dead. Say what thou hast to say. BERNARDO: They have confessed; they could endure no more _20 The tortures... BEATRICE: Ha! What was there to confess? They must have told some weak and wicked lie To flatter their tormentors. Have they said That they were guilty? O white innocence, That thou shouldst wear the mask of guilt to hide _25 Thine awful and serenest countenance From those who know thee not! [ENTER JUDGE WITH LUCRETIA AND GIACOMO, GUARDED.] Ignoble hearts! For some brief spasms of pain, which are at least As mortal as the limbs through which they pass, Are centuries of high splendour laid in dust? _30 And that eternal honour which should live Sunlike, above the reek of mortal fame, Changed to a mockery and a byword? What! Will you give up these bodies to be dragged At horses’ heels, so that our hair should sweep _35 The footsteps of the vain and senseless crowd, Who, that they may make our calamity Their worship and their spectacle, will leave The churches and the theatres as void As their own hearts? Shall the light multitude _40 Fling, at their choice, curses or faded pity, Sad funeral flowers to deck a living corpse, Upon us as we pass to pass away, And leave...what memory of our having been? Infamy, blood, terror, despair? O thou, _45 Who wert a mother to the parentless, Kill not thy child! Let not her wrongs kill thee! Brother, lie down with me upon the rack, And let us each be silent as a corpse; It soon will be as soft as any grave. _50 ’Tis but the falsehood it can wring from fear Makes the rack cruel. GIACOMO: They will tear the truth Even from thee at last, those cruel pains: For pity’s sake say thou art guilty now. LUCRETIA: Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die; _55 And after death, God is our judge, not they; He will have mercy on us. BERNARDO: If indeed It can be true, say so, dear sister mine; And then the Pope will surely pardon you, And all be well. JUDGE: Confess, or I will warp _60 Your limbs with such keen tortures... BEATRICE: Tortures! Turn The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel! Torture your dog, that he may tell when last He lapped the blood his master shed...not me! My pangs are of the mind, and of the heart, _65 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 _70 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 _75 My answer. What is it thou wouldst with me? JUDGE: Art thou not guilty of thy father’s death? BEATRICE: Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God That He permitted such an act as that Which I have suffered, and which He beheld; _80 Made it unutterable, and took from it All refuge, all revenge, all consequence, But that which thou hast called my father’s death? Which is or is not what men call a crime, Which either I have done, or have not done; _85 Say what ye will. I shall deny no more. If ye desire it thus, thus let it be, And so an end of all. Now do your will; No other pains shall force another word. JUDGE: She is convicted, but has not confessed. _90 Be it enough. Until their final sentence Let none have converse with them. You, young Lord, Linger not here! BEATRICE: Oh, tear him not away! JUDGE: Guards! do your duty. BERNARDO [EMBRACING BEATRICE]: Oh! would ye divide Body from soul? OFFICER: That is the headsman’s business. _95 [EXEUNT ALL BUT LUCRETIA, BEATRICE, AND GIACOMO.] GIACOMO: Have I confessed? Is it all over now? No hope! No refuge! O weak, wicked tongue Which hast destroyed me, would that thou hadst been Cut out and thrown to dogs first! To have killed My father first, and then betrayed my sister; _100 Ay, thee! the one thing innocent and pure In this black, guilty world, to that which I So well deserve! My wife! my little ones! Destitute, helpless, and I...Father! God! Canst Thou forgive even the unforgiving, _105 When their full hearts break thus, thus!... [COVERS HIS FACE AND WEEPS.] LUCRETIA: O my child! To what a dreadful end are we all come! Why did I yield? Why did I not sustain Those torments? Oh, that I were all dissolved Into these fast and unavailing tears, _110 Which flow and feel not! BEATRICE: What ’twas weak to do, ’Tis weaker to lament, once being done; Take cheer! The God who knew my wrong, and made Our speedy act the angel of His wrath, Seems, and but seems, to have abandoned us. _115 Let us not think that we shall die for this. Brother, sit near me; give me your firm hand, You had a manly heart. Bear up! Bear up! O dearest Lady, put your gentle head Upon my lap, and try to sleep awhile: _120 Your eyes look pale, hollow, and overworn, With heaviness of watching and slow grief. Come, I will sing you some low, sleepy tune, Not cheerful, nor yet sad; some dull old thing, Some outworn and unused monotony, _125 Such as our country gossips sing and spin, Till they almost forget they live: lie down! So, that will do. Have I forgot the words? Faith! They are sadder than I thought they were. SONG: False friend, wilt thou smile or weep _130 When my life is laid asleep? Little cares for a smile or a tear, The clay-cold corpse upon the bier! Farewell! Heighho! What is this whispers low? _135 There is a snake in thy smile, my dear; And bitter poison within thy tear. Sweet sleep, were death like to thee, Or if thou couldst mortal be, I would close these eyes of pain; _140 When to wake? Never again. O World! Farewell! Listen to the passing bell! It says, thou and I must part, With a light and a heavy heart. _145 [THE SCENE CLOSES.] SCENE 5.4:
This is a powerful moment from Shelley's verse play *The Cenci*, where Beatrice Cenci — sentenced for the murder of her abusive father — confronts her accusers with bold defiance, while her brother Bernardo and mother Lucretia break down under torture. Beatrice stands firm, refusing to confess, asserting that the true crime lies in what was done *to* her, not in her actions. The scene concludes with Beatrice singing a haunting lullaby to soothe the very people she should be relying on, revealing her remarkable moral strength even in the face of death.
Line-by-line
BERNARDO: How gently slumber rests upon her face, / Like the last thoughts of some day sweetly spent
BEATRICE [AWAKING]: I was just dreaming / That we were all in Paradise.
BERNARDO: They have confessed; they could endure no more / The tortures...
[ENTER JUDGE WITH LUCRETIA AND GIACOMO, GUARDED.] Ignoble hearts! / For some brief spasms of pain, which are at least / As mortal as the limbs through which they pass,
O thou, / Who wert a mother to the parentless, / Kill not thy child!
GIACOMO: For pity's sake say thou art guilty now. / LUCRETIA: Oh, speak the truth! Let us all quickly die;
BEATRICE: Tortures! Turn / The rack henceforth into a spinning-wheel!
JUDGE: Art thou not guilty of thy father's death? / BEATRICE: Or wilt thou rather tax high-judging God
JUDGE: She is convicted, but has not confessed. / Be it enough.
GIACOMO: Have I confessed? Is it all over now? / No hope! No refuge!
LUCRETIA: O my child! / To what a dreadful end are we all come!
BEATRICE: What 'twas weak to do, / 'Tis weaker to lament, once being done;
SONG: False friend, wilt thou smile or weep / When my life is laid asleep?
Tone & mood
The tone shifts through various emotions quickly. It begins with a tender moment—Bernardo watching his sister sleep—before rising to an intense defiance as Beatrice faces the judge and her fractured family. Beatrice's lengthy speeches carry a layer of bitter political anger, yet she never succumbs to self-pity. By the end, what stands out is a bright, weary courage: Beatrice remains the calmest person present, and that calmness feels more heartbreaking than any tears. The final song settles into a quiet, folk-like simplicity—intimate, sorrowful, and conclusive.
Symbols & metaphors
- The rack — The torture instrument symbolizes state power and oppression. By asking the judge to transform it into a spinning wheel, Beatrice denies it the ability to define her. Instead, she places true suffering within the mind and soul rather than the body.
- Paradise / the dream — Beatrice's opening dream of Paradise highlights the disconnect between divine justice and earthly justice. The term recurs throughout the scene, serving as a benchmark for how far the world has strayed from its intended state.
- The mask of guilt — Beatrice represents innocence, yet she is burdened with a mask of guilt. This portrayal highlights the play's core injustice: the legal system fails to recognize the underlying cause behind the act, causing true innocence to appear as if it were a crime.
- The snake in the smile — From the closing song, the snake concealed in a false friend's smile vividly represents betrayal—particularly the betrayal of Giacomo and Lucretia, whose confessions under torture led to Beatrice's condemnation. It also evokes the serpent from Eden, connecting the scene's corruption to a deeper, ancient fall.
- Sleep and death — Sleep sets the stage for everything — Beatrice begins by sleeping and ends by lulling others to sleep with her song. The lyrics intentionally blur the lines between sleep and death ('Sweet sleep, were death like to thee'), implying that for the innocent in a harsh world, death might be the only real escape.
- The passing bell — The bell in the final song represents the traditional church bell that is rung at the moment of death. Its presence in a lullaby merges comfort and doom into one sound, providing the scene with a poignant note of irreversible farewell.
Historical context
Shelley wrote *The Cenci* in 1819, drawing inspiration from the real-life story of Beatrice Cenci, a Roman noblewoman executed in 1599 for murdering her abusive father, Count Francesco Cenci. This case had captivated Italy for centuries, fueled by a well-known portrait attributed to Guido Reni that Shelley came across in Rome. He penned the play in a creative whirlwind while living in Italy, aiming for it to be performed on stage — although it faced a ban in England during his lifetime. The play embodies Shelley's radical views and his personal anger towards tyranny: Francesco Cenci symbolizes every corrupt patriarch and absolute ruler, while Beatrice's struggle — whether to fight back against evil is in itself evil — poses a moral dilemma that Shelley chose not to resolve simply. This scene, from Act V, serves as the dramatic climax.
FAQ
It’s a scene from *The Cenci*, a five-act verse tragedy that Shelley penned in 1819. The play is crafted in blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter), giving it a poetic feel while being designed for stage performance. The title 'Enter Bernardo' serves as a stage direction that kicks off the scene.
Beatrice plotted to have her father, Count Francesco Cenci, killed after enduring severe abuse from him — the play suggests sexual abuse, though Shelley avoids stating it outright due to the taboo nature of the topic for the stage. She hired men to carry out the murder, raising the play's main question: was her action an act of justified self-defense or outright murder?
For Beatrice, confessing would mean admitting to a crime she doesn’t think she committed. She believes the real crime lies in what her father did to her, with God allowing it to happen. To confess would mean accepting the court's version of events and betraying her own sense of justice. Her silence is a form of moral resistance, not mere stubbornness.
She tells the judge that physical torture doesn't matter to her—she's already endured something far worse. The true anguish comes from the injustice of the world: witnessing her family betray their values, feeling like heaven and earth turn a blind eye to her suffering, and realizing that the whole system around her thrives on oppression. No rack can inflict that kind of pain.
The song intentionally leaves things unclear, but it primarily refers to Giacomo and Lucretia, whose confessions under torture determined Beatrice's outcome. More generally, it addresses anyone who provides comfort or loyalty but ultimately lets others down — which, in the context of the play, encompasses the legal system, the Church, and even God, whom Beatrice claims 'seems, and but seems, to have abandoned us.'
This is Shelley's way of illustrating Beatrice's moral superiority over those around her. She has come to terms with the situation. Meanwhile, the others — Giacomo consumed by guilt, Lucretia lost in grief — are falling apart, and Beatrice takes on the role of mother and protector. It’s both ironic and profoundly moving that the condemned woman becomes the source of strength.
Yes. Beatrice Cenci was a real person who was executed in Rome in 1599, along with her stepmother and brother, for killing her father. Her case became legendary in Italy. Shelley came across it while living in Rome and was captivated by the moral complexity — a young woman pushed to violence by intolerable abuse, only to be executed by a Pope who had previously turned a blind eye to her cries for help.
The headsman is the executioner. When Bernardo cries, "Would ye divide body from soul?"—implying, would you tear me away from my sister?—the officer responds with a harsh literalness: yes, separating body from soul is precisely what the executioner is meant to do. It's a chilling, cruel joke that hits hard, and it stands out as one of the most powerful lines in the play.