_Caes._ And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel With your best friends? You had far best be quiet; His hour is not yet come.
_Luth. Sold._ That shall be seen!
[_The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar_.
_Caes._ (_to the Lutheran_). I told you so.
_Luth. Sold._ And will you not avenge me?
_Caes._ Not I! You know that "Vengeance is the Lord's:"
You see he loves no interlopers.
_Luth. Sold._ (_dying_). Oh! 20 Had I but slain him, I had gone on high, Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive My feebleness of arm that reached him not, And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth And ashes! [_The Lutheran dies_.
_Caes._ Yes, thine own amidst the rest.
Well done, old Babel!
[_The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo_.[248]
_Caes._ Ha! right nobly battled!
Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions, 30 Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then; Now they must take their turn.
_Soldiers_. He hath escaped!
Follow!
_Another Sold._ They have barred the narrow passage up, And it is clogged with dead even to the door.
_Caes._ I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't In part. I would not have his bulls abolished-- 'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences Demand some in return; no, no, he must not 40 Fall;--and besides, his now escape may furnish A future miracle, in future proof Of his infallibility. [_To the Spanish Soldiery_.
Well, cut-throats!
What do you pause for? If you make not haste, There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And _you_, too, Catholics! Would ye return From such a pilgrimage without a relic?
The very Lutherans have more true devotion: See how they strip the shrines!
_Soldiers_. By holy Peter!
He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear 50 The best away.
_Caes._ And that were shame! Go to!
Assist in their conversion.
[_The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Church, others enter_.
_Caes._ They are gone, And others come: so flows the wave on wave Of what these creatures call Eternity, Deeming themselves the breakers of the Ocean, While they are but its bubbles, ignorant That foam is their foundation. So, another!
_Enter_ OLIMPIA, _flying from the pursuit--She springs upon the Altar_.
_Sold._ She's mine!
_Another Sold._ (_opposing the former_).
You lie, I tracked her first: and were she The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. [_They fight_.
_3d Sold._ (_advancing towards_ OLIMPIA). You may settle Your claims; I'll make mine good.
_Olimp._ Infernal slave! 60 You touch me not alive.
_3d Sold._ Alive or dead!
_Olimp._ (_embracing a massive crucifix_). Respect your God!
_3d Sold._ Yes, when he shines in gold.
Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
[_As he advances_, OLIMPIA, _with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls_.
_3d Sold._ Oh, great God!
_Olimp._ Ah! now you recognise him.
_3d Sold._ My brain's crushed!
Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness! [He dies.
_Other Soldiers_ (_coming up_).
Slay her, although she had a thousand lives: She hath killed our comrade.
_Olimp._ Welcome such a death!
You have no life to give, which the worst slave Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming Son, And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as 70 I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee!
_Enter_ ARNOLD.
_Arn._ What do I see? Accursed jackals! Forbear!
_Caes._ (_aside and laughing_). Ha! ha! here's equity! The dogs Have as much right as he. But to the issue!
_Soldiers_. Count, she hath slain our comrade.
_Arn._ With what weapon?
_Sold._ The cross, beneath which he is crushed; behold him Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it Upon his head.
_Arn._ Even so: there is a woman Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye such, Ye would have honoured her. But get ye hence, 80 And thank your meanness, other God you have none, For your existence. Had you touched a hair Of those dishevelled locks, I would have thinned Your ranks more than the enemy. Away!
Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves, But not even these till he permits.
_A Sold._ (_murmuring_). The lion Might conquer for himself then.
_Arn._ (_cuts him down_). Mutineer!
Rebel in hell--you shall obey on earth!
[_The Soldiers assault_ ARNOLD.
_Arn._ Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, slaves, How you should be commanded, and who led you 90 First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale, Until I waved my banners from its height, As you are bold within it.
[ARNOLD _mows down the foremost; the rest throw down their arms_.