University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—A Room in Rienzi's House.
Enter Rienzi.
Rien.
Crescentius ruled in Rome three months; they say
This was his house—the Emperor murdered him.
And Arnold ruled ten years—the Emperor
And Pope, in bloody compact, murdered him.
And now I come—
Enter Francesca.
Cecca! What wouldst thou?

Fran.
Nothing—
Let me but—

Rien.
I am busy.

Fran.
Always busy!
Alas! thou knowest no rest. Thy very bed,
When not left cold, is but a market-place
Where thou art baited with uneasy thoughts.

Rien.
Am I lean? Am I pale? I am hale and hearty.

Fran.
Thy life is squandered all on public things,
Cheating thy flesh and blood. Rome is thy wife,
Its rabble more thy children than thine own.

Rien.
What wouldst thou have of me? What ails my children?
Do they lack bread? There's money for thee—go!

Fran.
Speak not so furiously.

Rien.
O woman, woman!
Stay, let me look at thee. Nay, my poor girl,
'Tis thou art pale. Where are those flashing eyes
That made thy face the splendidest in Rome?

Fran.
Tears are poor beauty-washes.

Rien.
Tears? why tears?

Fran.
O Cola, thou wilt break my heart with fear!
Where will this end? Where can these hidden ways
Lead, but to ruin? Thou hast hid thy soul
From me, thy wife, and yet I know too well
Ye purpose something fearful.

Rien.
Heaven forefend!
Dry up these foolish tears. Be beautiful—
Bloom like a cherished rose. I need thy beauty,
As serpents need the sun when they come forth
From winter caves to taste the air of spring.
Go, buy thyself a gown—let it be rich—
Thou shalt have twenty soon. Be beautiful!
I'll throne thee high; the proudest dames in Rome
Shall wait on thee; princes shall bear thy train.

Fran.
These would be dreadful honours.

Rien.
Dreadful? Pooh!
But some one seeks me. Go! be sure to keep
Thy blithest cheer.
[Exit Francesca.
Enter Servant.
What now?

Servant.
Signor Pandolfo
Di Guido waits for you.

Rien.
Admit him straight.
Enter Pandolfo.
[Exit Servant.
Now, my best friend, what news?

Pan.
All's happily sped.
A hundred of the best in Rome are sworn
To meet us on the Aventine to-night,
Worth each a hundred names—all solid men.

Rien.
Bravissimo! I too have done some work
Since last we met. The Vicar's ours.

Pand.
This crowns us.

Rien.
But I have stumbled on a snake to-day.

Pand.
A snake?

Rein.
Fra Moreale's here in Rome.

Pand.
Fra Moreale!

Rien.
Sought me out but now,
Proffering his sword unto the Good Estate.

Pand.
And what said you?

Rien.
What should Rienzi say?
That the good swords which guard the Good Estate
Should flash on robbers' necks, not in their hands.

Pand.
That were scarce politic.

Rien.
So spoke my heart;
But not my lips. No, I have made a pact
With that most brave and noble Cavalier,
Gualtier de Montréal, Knight of St. John,
To furnish me some stout five thousand spears
By this day fortnight.

Pand.
How?

Rien.
The cost's a mite—
Half a year's revenue. Like you my bargain?

Pand.
Faith, not at all. You play a perilous game.

Rien.
Danger's man's native air—the alert, bold mind
Must tame at birth each moment's dragon brood
To plough life's prosperous furrows. Mind rules all,
When, grappling change with nimbleness, it grasps
The old Proteus Circumstance. Look you, I've played
This cunning fencer with a simple feint,
And he disarms himself, whose treacherous thrust
Had been most deadly.

Pand.
But, a fortnight hence?

Rien.
But three days hence, and this hot brain is cold,
Or Rome is free, and may defy the world.

Pand.
Three days! That's brief.

Rien.
At Pentecost, my trump
Shall blow the Barons' castles into dust.
The Spirit of God makes every nerve of me
Stuff of the elements—a bodiless power
I ride the air, whose fiery steeds I'd spur
To the tempest's pace. But no more words—each hour
'Twixt this and Pentecost must glow red-hot
With action. Come; upon the Aventine
We must keep punctual tryst.

[Exeunt.