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Duke. Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners. Jaffier, you're free, the rest must wait for judgment.

[DUKE, Senators, Conspirators, and Officers go out.] Pier. Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw: It will not be the first time I've lodged hard

To do your Senate service.

Jaff. Hold one moment.

[Meeting PIERRE.]

Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the Senate ? Presumptuous rebel? [Strikes JAFFIER.] On!

Jaff. Nay, nay, you stir not!

I must be heard! I must have leave to speak.
Thou hast disgraced me, Pierre, by a vile blow:
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries;

Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,
And, as there dwells a god-like nature in thee,

Listen with mildness to my supplications.

Pier. What whining fool art thou? What holy cheat,

That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,

And cant'st thus vilely! Hence! Iow thee not!
Jaff. Not know me, Pierre !

Pier. No, know thee not. What art thou?

Jaff. Jaffier, thy friend-thy once loved, valued friend!
Though now deservedly scorned, and used most hardly.
Pier. Thou Jaffier! thou, my once loved, valued friend?
Thou liest; the man so called my friend,

Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant,
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely,

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:

But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward,-
Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect-
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Pr'ythee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at.

Jaff. I have not wronged thee; by these tears I have not.
Pier. Hast thou not wronged me? Dar'st thou call thyself

That once-loved, honest, valued friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wronged me? Whence these chains?
Whence the vile death that I may meet this moment?
Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one?
Jaff. All's true; yet grant one thing, and I've done asking.
Pier. What's that?

Jaff. To take thy life, on such conditions

The council have proposed: thou and thy friends

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself

A villain, for the privilege to breathe!

And carry up and down this hated city
A discontented and repining spirit,

Burdensome to itself, a few years longer!

To lose it, may be, at last, in a base quarrel

For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art!
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,

And cannot part on better terms than now,
When only men like thee are fit to live in't.
Jaff. By all that's just-

Pier. Swear by some other power,

For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.
Jaff. Then by that doom I merit, I'll not leave thee
Till, to thyself at least, thou'rt reconciled,

However thy resentments deal with me.

Pier. Not leave me !

Jaff. No; thou shalt not force me from thee.
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave ;
Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head-I'll bear it all with patience,
Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty;
Till, wounded by thy sufferings, thou relent,
And take me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.
Pier. Art thou not-

Jaff. What?

Pier. A traitor!
Jaff. Yes.

Pier. A villain!

Jaff. Granted.

Pier. A coward!-a most scandalous coward? Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold

Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life!

Jaff. All, all, and more, much more; my faults are numberless. Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine? Base as thou'rt false

Jaff. No; 'tis to me that's granted;

The safety of thy life was all I aimed at,

In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

Pier. I scorn it more, because preserved by thee;
And, as when first my foolish heart took pity

On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,
Relieved thy wants, and raised thee from the state
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plunged thee.
To rank thee in my list of noble friends;

All I received in surety for thy truth,

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,-
Given with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stolen.
So I restore it back to thee again,-

Swearing, by all those powers which thou hast violated,
Never, from this curs'd hour to hold communion,
Friendship, or interest, with thee, though our years
Were to exceed those limited the world.

-Take it-farewell!-for now I owe thee nothing.

Jaff. Say thou wilt live, then?

Pier. For my life, dispose it

Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tired of.

Jaff. O Pierre!

Pier. No more!

Jaff. My eyes won't lose the sight of thee.

But languish after thine, and ache with gazing.

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Pier. Leave me!-Nay, then, thus, thus I thrust thee from me: And curses, great as thy falsehood, catch thee! [Throws him off.]

VIII. —RIENZI AND ANGELO.-Miss Mitford.

Rie. Son,

Methinks this high solemnity might well

Have claimed thy presence. A great ruler's heir
Should be familiar in the people's eyes;

Live on their tongues; take root within their hearts;
Win woman's smiles by honest courtesy,

And force man's tardier praise by bold desert!
So, when the chief shall die, the general love

May hail his successor. But thou-where wast thou?
If with thy bride—-

Ang. I have not seen her.-Tribune- !
Thou wav'st away the word with such a scorn
As I poured poison in thine ear.-Already
Dost weary of the title?

Rie. Wherefore should I?
Ang. Thou art ambitious.
Rie. Granted.

Ang. And wouldst be

A king.

Rie. There thou mistak'st.-A king!-Fair son, Power dwelleth not in sound, and fame hath garlands Brighter than diadems. I might have been

Anointed, sceptred, crowned-have cast a blaze
Of glory round the old imperial wreath,
The laurel of the Cæsars: but I chose
To master kings, not be one; to direct
The royal puppets at my sovereign will,

And Rome-my Rome, decree!-Tribune! the Gracchi
Were called so.-Tribune! I will make that name
A word of fear to kings.

Ang. Rienzi!--Tribune!

Hast thou forgotten, on this very spot

How thou didst shake the slumbering soul of Rome
With the brave soul of Freedom, till she rose,
And from her giant-limbs the shackles dropped,
Burst by one mighty throe? Hadst thou died then,
History had crowned thee with a glorious title—
Deliverer of thy country.

Rie. Well?

Ang. Alas!

When now thou fall'st, as fall thou must, 'twill be

The common tale of low ambition :-Tyrants

O'erthrown to form a wider tyranny;

Princes cast down, that thy obscurer house
May rise on nobler ruins.

Rie. IIast thou ended?

I fain would have mistaken thee-Hast done?

Ang. No; for, despite thy smothered wrath, the voice Of warning truth shall reach thee. Thou to-day

Hast, by thy frantic sacrilege, drawn on thee
The thunders of the church, the mortal feud
Of either emperor. Here, at home, the barons

Hate thee, and the people shun thee. See'st thou not,

Even in this noon of pride, thy waning power
Fade, flicker, and wax dim? Thou art as one
Perched on some lofty steeple's dizzy height,
Dazzled by the sun, inebriate by long draughts
Of thinner air; too giddy to look down
Where all his safety lies; too proud to dare
The long descent, to the low depths from whence
The desperate climber rose.

Rie. Ay, there's the sting,

That I, an insect of to-day, outsoar

The reverend worm, nobility!

Wouldst shame me

With my poor parentage ?-Sir, I'm the son
Of him who kept a sordid hostelry

In the Jews' quarter; my good mother cleansed
Linen for honest hire.-Canst thou say worse?
Ang. Can worse be said?

Rie. Add, that my boasted school-craft

Was gained from such base toil;-gained with such pain, That the nice nurture of the mind was oft

Stolen at the body's cost. I have gone dinnerless

And supperless (the scoff of our poor street,

For tattered vestments and lean hungry looks),

Το

pay the pedagogue.-Add what thou wilt
Of injury. Say that, grown into man,
I've known the pittance of the hospital,
And, more degrading still, the patronage
Of the Colonna. Of the tallest trees

The roots delve deepest. Yes, I've trod thy halls,
Scorned and derided 'midst their ribald crew-
A licensed jester, save the cap and bells:
I have borne this-and I have born the death,
The unavenged death, of a poor brother.
I seemed I was a base, ignoble slave.
What am I?-peace, I say!-what am I now?
Head of this great republic, chief of Rome-
In all but name, her sovereign; last of all,
Thy father.

Ang. In an evil hour

Rie. Darest thou

Say that? An evil hour for thee, my Claudia!

Thou shouldst have been an emperor's bride, my fairest.

In evil hour thy woman's heart was caught,

By the form moulded as an antique god:

The gallant bearing, the feigned tale of love

All false, all outward, simulated all.

Ang. But that I loved her, but that I do love her,
With a deep tenderness, softer and fonder

Than thy ambition-hardened heart e'er dreamed of,
My sword should answer thee.

Rie. Go to, Lord Angelo;

Thou lov'st her not.-Men taunt not, nor defy
The dear one's kindred. A bright atmosphere

Of sunlight and of beauty breathes around

The bosom's idol!-I have loved!-she loves thee;
And therefore thy proud father,- -even the shrew,

Thy railing mother-in her eyes, are sacred.
Lay not thine hand upon thy sword, fair son-

Keep that brave for thy comrades. I'll not fight thee.
Go and give thanks to yonder simple bride,
That her plebeian father mews not up,
Safe in the citadel, her noble husband.
Thou art dangerous, Colonna. But, for her,
Beware!

Ang. Come back, Rienzi! Thus I throw

A brave defiance in thy teeth.

Rie. Once more,

Beware!

Ang. Take up the glove!

Rie. This time, for her

[Going.]

[Throws down his glove.]

[Takes up the glove.]

For her dear sake-Come to thy bride! home! home!
Ang. Dost fear me, tribune of the people?

Rie. Fear!

Do I fear thee?-Tempt me no more.-This once,
Home to thy bride!

Ang. Now, Ursini, I come-
Fit partner of thy vengeance!

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Wizard. Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!
For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in flight:
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain !—
But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
"Tis thine, oh, Glenullin, whose bride shall await,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!
Oh, weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead :
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave-
Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave.

[Exit.]

Lochiel. Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,

This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

Wizard. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!

Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth

From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north?
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high,
Ah! home let him speed,-for the spoiler is nigh:

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