Artemisia, Part 6 of 12

Agostino Tassi (The Accused now gives evidence, coming fresh from the vigil torture, which involves sleep deprivation. His arrogant, careless manner doesn't win him any friends.) I think the Court will understand if I’m a little under par. The vigil thing! I hadn’t planned to come before you bug-eyed, and I find it all a bit bizarre. Defence? There’s nothing to defend. Look, they want us, and we want them. Let’s not dissemble or pretend, we’re all pursuing that same end. I didn’t need a stratagem. I’m not bad-looking, I’ll admit, and she was there, around me – though I knew her dad would have a fit – it took some skill to manage it. She wanted it (girls do, you know). Each one of us is free to choose what he or she rejects or takes. Some blame their childhood, some the booze, but some you win, and some you lose – just deal with it, for heaven’s sakes! This woman wrote me quite a letter. An open door – know what I mean? But now they’re launching this vendetta! I didn’t have to work to get her. You should have read her stuff. Obscene. She says she wants me, needs me so, depends upon me, loves me, trusts me, and pulls the old trick – yes, yes, no. Just ask my sidekick, Cosimo. She’s a user. She disgusts me. That first time – they’re just telling lies! She wasn’t sitting on her own. They pay another pair of eyes, to try to stem the flow of guys. How did I pass their chaperone? Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet. I couldn’t even guess the things that I’ll be doing. Pay a debt? Eat gnocchi? I’m a marionette, and God’s the one who pulls my strings. So don’t tell me it’s all my fault. I’m just a pawn of Destiny. She says she suffered an assault? So go blame God, and call a halt! I’ve things to do, and folks to see. I don’t believe in casting blame. It’s just not true, this talk of marriage. The thing just happened. Love’s cute game. I don’t condemn her. All the same, why did she hire that two-horse carriage? She took me riding for the day. Caprice, you’d call it? Whim of youth? Ensnaring me, is what I’d say: when sun shines, fall to making hay. My hand was in the Mouth of Truth. Just one last point, and then I’m done. It ran from Lent to Martinmas. This wasn’t just one night of fun. She came on like a Spanish nun! Let’s have a little veritas. One throw, and yes, I might agree: but here’s a wench that’s never sated! I serviced her more frequently than my own wife. Such irony! She claims she’s been violated!