University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

ARCHBISHOP'S TENT. Archbishop. The Brothers Costanzio and Corrado.
Archbishop.
Could ye not wait for death within the walls,
But must rush out to meet it?

Costanzio.
We could wait
As others do.

Corrado.
And fight we could as others.

Archbishop.
Costanzio and Corrado! I am grieved
That you should war against your lawful prince,
Your father being most loyal.

Costanzio.
So are we.

Archbishop.
What! when he serves the emperor and king,
And you the rabble?


292

Corrado.
Who made men the rabble?

Archbishop.
Will not your treason and your death afflict him?

Costanzio.
Our treason would: God grant our death may not.

Corrado.
We never took the oaths that he has taken,
And owe no duty but to our own land.

Archbishop.
Are ye Anconites?

Corrado.
No, sir, but Italians,
And in Ancona lies the cause of Italy.

Archbishop.
Pernicious dreams! These drive young men astray;
But when they once take their own cause, instead
Of ours who could direct them, they are lost:
So will ye find it. As ye were not born
In this vile city, what, pray, could have urged you
To throw your fortunes into it when sinking?

Costanzio.
Because we saw it sinking.

Corrado.
While it prosper'd
It needed no such feeble aid as ours.
Marquises, princes, kings, popes, emperors,
Courted it then: and you, my lord archbishop,
Would have it even in its last decay.

Archbishop.
There is a spirit in the land, a spirit
So pestilential that the fire of heaven
Alone can purify it.

Costanzio.
Things being so,
Let us return and die with those we fought for.

Archbishop.
Captious young man! Ye die the death of traitors.

Corrado.
Alas! how many better men have died
That death! alas, how many must hereafter!

Archbishop.
By following your example. Think of that;
Be that your torture.

Costanzio.
As we never grieved
At following our betters, grant, just Heaven!
That neither may our betters ever grieve
At following us, be the time soon or late.

[To the Guards.
Archbishop.
Lead off these youths. Separate them.


293

Corrado.
My lord!
We are too weak (you see it) for resistance;
Let us then, we beseech you, be together
In what is left of life!

Archbishop.
One hour is left:
Hope not beyond.

Corrado.
We did hope more; we hoped
To be together, tho' but half the time.

Archbishop.
It shall not be.

Costanzio.
It shall be.

Archbishop.
Art thou mad?
I would not smile, but such pride forces me.

Costanzio.
God, in whose holiest cause we took up arms,
Will reconcile us. Doubt it not, Corrado,
Altho' such men as that man there have said it.