Scene II.
—The City.—Combats between the Besiegers and
Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.
Enter Cæsar.
Cæs.
I cannot find my hero; he is mixed
With the heroic crowd that now pursue
The fugitives, or battle with the desperate.
What have we here? A Cardinal or two
That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff
Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be
A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder.
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire
Is of the self-same purple hue.
Enter a Party fighting—Arnold at the head of the
Besiegers.
He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins—Gore and Glory.
Holla! hold, Count!
Arn.
Away! they must not rally.
Cæs.
I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge
Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee
A form of beauty, and an
Exemption from some maladies of body,
But not of mind, which is not mine to give.
But though I gave the form of Thetis' son,
I dipped thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart
More than Pelides; heel; why, then, be cautious,
And know thyself a mortal still.
Arn.
And who
With aught of soul would combat if he were
Invulnerable? That were pretty sport.
Think'st thou I beat for hares when lions roar?
[Arnold rushes into the combat.
Cæs.
A precious sample of humanity!
Well, his blood's up; and, if a little 's shed,
'Twill serve to curb his fever.
[Arnold engages with a Roman, who retires towards a portico.
Arn.
Yield thee, slave!
I promise quarter.
Rom.
That's soon said.
Arn.
And done—
My word is known.
Rom.
So shall be my deeds.
[They re-engage. Cæsar comes forward.
Cæs.
Why, Arnold! hold thine own: thou hast in hand
A famous artisan, a cunning sculptor;
Also a dealer in the sword and dagger.
Not so, my musqueteer; 'twas he who slew
The Bourbon from the wall.
Arn.
Aye, did he so?
Then he hath carved his monument.
Rom.
I yet
May live to carve your better's.
Cæs.
Well said, my man of marble! Benvenuto,
Thou hast some practice in both ways; and he
Who slays Cellini will have worked as hard
As e'er thou didst upon Carrara's blocks.
[Arnold disarms and wounds Cellini, but slightly:
the latter draws a pistol, and fires; then retires,
and disappears through the portico.
Cæs.
How farest thou? Thou hast a taste, methinks,
Of red Bellona's banquet.
Arn.
(staggers).
'Tis a scratch.
Lend me thy scarf. He shall not 'scape me thus.
Cæs.
Where is it?
Arn.
In the shoulder, not the sword arm—
And that 's enough. I am thirsty: would I had
A helm of water!
Cæs.
That's a liquid now
In requisition, but by no means easiest
To come at.
Arn.
And my thirst increases;—but
I'll find a way to quench it.
Cæs.
Or be quenched
Thyself.
Arn.
The chance is even; we will throw
The dice thereon. But I lose time in prating;
Prithee be quick.
[Cæsar binds on the scarf.
And what dost thou so idly?
Why dost not strike?
Cæs.
Your old philosophers
Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of
The Olympic games. When I behold a prize
Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo.
Arn.
Aye, 'gainst an oak.
Cæs.
A forest, when it suits me:
I combat with a mass, or not at all.
Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine;
Which is just now to gaze, since all these labourers
Will reap my harvest gratis.
Arn.
Thou art still
A fiend!
Cæs.
And thou—a man.
Arn.
Why, such I fain would show me.
Cæs.
True—as men are.
Arn.
And what is that?
Cæs.
Thou feelest and thou see'st.
[Exit Arnold, joining in the combat which still
continues between detached parties. The scene
closes.
