Bourb. Thou bitter slave! to name him at this time! 140 But I deserve it.
Arn.(to Cæsar). Villain, hold yowr peace!
Cœs. What, when a Christian dies? Shall
I not offer
A Christian 'Vade in pace'?
Arn. Silence! Oh!
Those eyes are glazing which o'erlook'd the world,
And saw no equal.
Bourb. Arnold, shouldst thou see
France -- But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer -- Oh!
For but an hour, a minute more of life
To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold, hence!
You lose time -- they will conquer Rome without thee.
Arn. And without thee!
Bourb. Not so; I'll lead them still 150
In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe
That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be
Arn. But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourb. You must -- farewell -- Up! up!
the world is winning.[BOURBON dies.
Cœs.(to ARNOLD). Come, count, to business.
Arn. True. I'll weep hereafter.
[ ARNOLDcovers BOURBON'S body with a mantle, and mounts the ladder, crying
The Bourbon! Bourbon! On, boys! Rome is ours!
Cces. Good night, lord constable! thou wert a man.
[Cæsar follows ARNOLD; they reach the battlement;
ARNOLDand Cæsar are struck down.
Cœs. A precious somerset! Is your countship injured?
Arn. No. [Remounts the ladder.
Cœs. A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated!
And 't is no boy's play. Now he strikes
them down! 160 His hand is on the battlement -- he grasps it
As though it were an altar; now his foot
Is on it, and -- What have we here? -- a
Roman? [A man falls.
The first bird of the covey! he has fallen
On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow?
Wounded Man. A drop of water!
Cœs. Blood's the only liquid
Nearer than Tiber.
Wounded Man. I have died for Rome.
Cœs. And so did Bourbon, in another sense.
Oh these immortal men! and their great
But I must after my young charge. He
is 170 By this time i' the forum. Carge! charge!
[Cæsar mounts the ladder; the scene closes.
The City. -- Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.
Cœs. I cannot find my hero; he is mix'd
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 doff'd their hats, 't would 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 flghting -- ARNOLD at the head of the Besiegers.
Hand in hand with the mild twins -- Gore
Holla! hold, count!
Arn. Away! they must not rally.
Cœs. 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, 190 I dipt thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart
More than Pelides' heel; why then, be cau-tious,
And know thyself a mortal still.
Am. And who
With aught of soul would combat if he were