University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Camp before Palestrina.—Rienzi's Pavilion.
Enter Rienzi and Rambault.
Rien.
I do not like the siege's disposition—
You have thrown away advantages, and made
A brief assault a leaguer. You have spread
Your force to weakness, gazing upon rocks,
When you should batter walls, or mole beneath them.
What means this farce of war?

Ramb.
Nay, you should ask
My brother Berthon, as the better soldier.

Rien.
Sir, I ask you; I shall grow angry soon—
What does this child's play mean?

Ramb.
The art of war
Prescribes these cautious tactics—Berthon says.
We have burnt all their country, stopped supplies—

Rien.
While they are victualled for a year, and drive
Their cattle through our lines.

Ramb.
I have not heard so.

Rien.
I have. Good Doctor, may I crave to know
Why ye have so departed from my plans?

Ramb.
You left us some discretion, and in truth
We dreaded mutiny. Your plan of war,
If brief, would have been bloody.

Rien.
Mutiny!
These mercenary dogs! By heaven above me,
The rogues are paid to fight, and fight they shall!

Ramb.
When they are paid.

Rien.
They have my note of hand.
Nay, this is worse than mutiny; 'tis sloth
Upon their leaders' parts—or treachery.

Ramb.
Their leaders! Treachery?

Rien.
Your brother is a knave, and you a fool—
I think, no worse—that is, in warfare, Doctor.
You'll back with me to Rome. You have my love,
Though not my confidence. Berthon comes too,
Under arrest; and in his place Riccardo
Degli Annibaldi shall conduct the siege.
You are my prisoner, Doctor, on parole.

Ramb.
Oh! I was tugged asunder by two minds—
Do not esteem me false!

Rien.
You are an egg,
Smacking of its rank neighbours—nothing worse.
But get you to your tent and wait me there.
Send, as you pass, my Captain of the Guard.
[Exit Rambault.
That stroke is played; and now swift back to Rome,
For I must be ubiquitous as air,
To keep my cause alive. On salt and wine
I must impose the tax to pay these knaves;
Most dangerous, but most necessary. Well,
If this be borne, I shall make firm my root.
Enter Captain of the Guard.
You have arrested him, and quietly?

Capt.
As sleep, my lord. He dropped into our toils
Like a ripe pear into a maiden's lap.

Rien.
Good. And this woman that you told me of?

Capt.
She waits without, my lord.

Rien.
See her disarmed,
And let her enter straight.

Capt.
She's searched, my lord.

Rien.
Be sure she has no secret knife about her;
Though not a Roman, she may stab at Rome.
[Exit Captain.
Enter Woman.
Your business, dame, and briefly.

Woman.
Senator,
I seek a just revenge on one, methinks,
Should be to you as hateful as the plague.

Rien.
Who's he?

Woman.
Fra Moreale, as they call him.

Rien.
He! And what power have I to right your wrong?

Woman.
I was his faithful servant, Senator,
Till he debauched my daughter. Now I'd be
His hangman, if you please.

Rien.
How, if I please?

Woman.
He is in Rome, my lord.

Rien.
What, he in Rome?
Now? Not alone?

Woman.
In Rome, my lord, alone,
And in disguise, to bring his plots against you
To quiet ripeness. You may take him now
With proofs against his life.

Rien.
(aside).
There's no report
Of this upon my papers. Have my spies
Turned bats in daylight? (Aloud.)
Make this promise true,
And name your own reward.

Woman.
His soul to hell!
Come back to Rome, and let me choose my time;
I'll bring you plump upon his tampering
With your most trusted friends.

Rien.
Come, night or day,
You'll find me prompt.

Woman.
Farewell, then, Senator.
Do you your work as well as I'll do mine.

Rien.
Trust me for that—farewell!
[Exit Woman.
This creature speaks the truth—eye, accent, all
Proclaim her honest. This is heaven's design
To punish bandits, and to rescue Rome.
Now Montréal, or devil, which you will,
The blood-writ bond is forfeit in a sense
Which dupes your devilship. Strike off his head,
I strike the head from the cold snake whose coils
Are strangling Italy—she breathes once more!

[Exit.