 | The True Tragedy of Rienzi Tribune of Rome |  |
Scene III.
—Rome.—A Public Square.Enter Gianni Rosso, with Town Crier and Guards. Cecco del Vecchio and Citizens following them.
Gianni R.
Ring thy bell, crier.
(Crier rings his
bell; a crowd gradually assembles.)
(Aside.)
Who tells
me that the trade of a politician is a bad trade? I
have, indeed, been out in the cold long enough; but
now I shall warm my nest. I begin to be known over
usury, and to be reverenced, withal, as a public functionary.
(Aloud.)
Ring thy bell, crier. (Crier rings again.)
(Aside.)
An officer of the revenue is no poor
barber, at every man's beck and call; but a man in
authority, and to be capped to and courted. Well, a
few years more and I shall retire upon my gains, to
enjoy the ripe remnants of my youth in scholar's
leisure. (Aloud.)
Now, crier, the proclamation.
(Aside.)
I'll note how they take it, and report to my
nephew, the Senator.
Crier
(reads).
Oyez! Oyez! Niccola di Rienzi,
Senator of Rome, to the loyal citizens of the Roman
Commonwealth greeting—
Cecco.
Leave vain flourishes, man, and to the point.
Crier.
Whereas it hath been in the wisdom of the
Roman Council determined
(Hooting)
to carry on the
most just war against certain notorious bandits and
wasters of the Commonwealth, to wit, Stefanello Colonna,
calling himself a Roman Baron—
A Voice.
Viva Stefanello Colonna!
[Renewed hooting.
Crier.
And divers others, with him mischievously
and seditiously conjoined—
Cecco.
They are not the only wasters of Rome.
Crier.
And whereas it hath become necessary to
raise a special fund for the defence in the field of the
iberties of Rome—
[Violent hooting.
A Voice.
Where is Fra Moreale's treasure?
A Soldier.
The soldiers have got none of it, anyhow.
Now this is to proclaim that on and after
this, the 8th day of October, in the year of grace one
thousand three hundred and fifty-four, the ancient
duty on salt and wine, known as the gabella—
Tumultuous Cries.
Down with the gabella! Down
with all taxes! Death to the tyrant who has taxed
us!
Gianni R.
Peace, good Romans! Peace, worthy
citizens!
Cecco.
Death to all traitors and tax-gatherers!
[He draws a dagger.
Gianni R.
O blessed saints, here's murder abroad!
Guards, I say, guards, guards!
Cecco.
Kill them all, kill them!
[The mob assault the Guards, who fling down their halberds and run. Exit Gianni Rosso and Crier, pursued by Cecco and others. Continued Tumult.
Re-enter Cecco, etc.
Cecco.
The tyrant's knaves are dead, now for the
tyrant himself. With this blood upon us, we must go
on and make all sure, and that quickly.
Voices.
To the Capitol! To the Capitol!
[Exeunt.
| The True Tragedy of Rienzi Tribune of Rome | |