Rome in the fourteenth century.-A Street in Rome.A Temple in Ruins, in the back-ground a Portico, with columns in front of it, so managed that a person may appear and disappear amongst the pillars and recesses.

Enter Paolo, and three Citizens, meeting.

First Cit. Ah, Messer Paolo, a good morrow to thee!

The streets are full to-day. I have not seen
Such an outpouring of our Roman hive

Since the last jubilee. Whence comes the swarm?
Pao. The stirring Ursini, on a hot canvass

For their proud chief, the factious Martin.

First Cit. He,

Our senator! a proper ruler! sick, too,

And like to die.

Second Cit. Nay, he were harmless, then.
But 't is his brother, John, of Ursini,

The subtle John, that drives this business onward.
First Cit. A proper ruler! Martin Ursini,
That seized the Widow Landi's house to make
A kennel for his hounds-that carried off
The pretty child Emilia Fano-none
Hath e'er beheld her since.

Second Cit. "T was likelier John!

The dark, smooth, subtle John. He's the prime

mover

Of these iniquities.

Third Cit. Ye have bold tongues.

First Cit.

Art thou of their black faction?

Third Cit. No: I ply

My trade, and hold my peace. Pao.

Should have been senator.

First Cit.

Stephen Colonna

No-he's too old:

The Count Savelli, or young Angelo.
Second Cit. "Tis ill to choose between them.
Third Cit. Ay, and dangerous

To meddle with such great ones. Dost not see
A man in yonder porch? (Looking toward the ruin.
Rienzi appears in the Temple, with a piece of decayed
marble in his hands.

Pao.

Our honest neighbour,

Cola Rienzi, poring o'er some stone

With legend half defaced. Thou knowest Cola?
First Cit. A follower of the Colonna ?
Pao.

Ay:

He haunts their palaces, and, with rancorous hate,
Pursues the Ursini. Didst never hear

How his young brother, poor Antonio, fell,

Murdered by their base groom? He hates the Ursini,

And follows the Colonna, scarce for love,

Rather to feast his learned spleen--for Cola

Is a ripe scholar-with sharp biting gibes

And dark predictions; a rank malcontent-
A bitter railer.

Second Cit. He approaches.

Ang. I had rather gaze on thee. Cla.

And think how long We sate beneath the myrtle shade, how long Paced the cool trellis walk. When next thou steal'st Hither, from thy proud palace, I must time thee By seconds, as the nice physician counts The boundings of the fevered pulse. Away, Dear Angelo; think, if my father find thee

Ang. Oh, talk not of him, sweet! why was I born The heir of the Colonna! why art thou Rienzi's daughter? What a world of foes, Stern scorn, and fiery pride, and cold contempt Are ranged betwixt us twain; yet love, and time, Be faithful, mine own Claudia-time, and love! Cla. Alas, alas!

Ang.

Thy father loves thee, sweetest, With a proud dotage, almost worshipping The idol it hath framed. Thou fear'st not him?

Cla. Alas! I have learned to fear him; he is changed,

Grievously changed; still good and kind, and full
Of fond relentings-crossed by sudden gusts
Of wild and stormy passion. I have learned
A daughter's trembling love. Then, he's so silent-
He, once so eloquent. Of old, each show,
Bridal, or joust, or pious pilgrimage,
Lived in his vivid speech. Oh! 't was my joy,
In that bright glow of rapid words, to see
Clear pictures, as the slow procession coiled
Its glittering length, or stately tournament
Grew statelier in his voice. Now he sits mute-
His serious eyes bent on the ground-each sense
Turned inward.

Ang.

Somewhat chafes his ardent spirit.

Claudia, I say! She trembles at the sound
Of her own name, and flutters like a bird
Fresh caught, as I approach. It likes me ill
To scare thee thus, fair daughter. Time has been,
When thou hast listened for me-when my voice,
Half a street off-my footstep on the causeway—
Would bring my little handmaid, springing forth
With eager service, to fling wide the door,
And seize my cloak. Nay, nay, I need thee not.
Cla. Oh, let me take it, father!
Rie.
Sit thee down,
And ply thy sewing. Hath Alberti-no-
The west is glowing still. Hark ye, fair mistress:
Crossing the hall but now, I saw a shadow
Upon the garden wall, as clearly traced,
By the sun's parting rays, as I see thee
Weaving fresh tangles in that ravelled skein,
Which thou affect 'st to wind. He must have passed
By yonder open lattice. Art thou dumb?

Didst thou not see him, Claudia? him whose shadow
Darkened the sunny wall?

Cla.

The love deserves no blessing, that deceives

As ever maiden of old Rome. Camillo!
Would'st thou deceive thy father? Pay'st thou thus
His love, his trust, his doting pride?

Cla.
Oh, no!
No, no! I'll tell thee all: forgive me, father,
Only forgive me!-thou shalt hear-

Cla.

Oh, father, each

Lady C.

Fie!

Alike is terrible; for each brings war,

Fierce, desperate war.

Rie.
Claudia, in these bad days,
When man must tread perforce the flinty path
Of duty, hard and rugged, fail not thou
Duly at night and morning to give thanks

To the all gracious power that smoothed the way
For woman's tender feet. She but looks on,

And waits and prays for the good cause, whilst man
Fights, struggles, triumphs, dies. Vex not thy mind
With thoughts of state, my dear one; there's no dan-
ger:

All whom thou lov'st are safe; all, silly trembler.
Peace, peace! I will not hear thee: all are safe.

Caf. What, Cola di Rienzi! honest Cola!
Who saves Colonna here a jester's charge,
A fool without the bells. Honest Rienzi!

'Tis a device of the black Ursini.

Col. Likelier some freak of Cola's. He hath turned

A bitter knave of late, and lost his mirth,

And mutters riddling warnings and wild tales

Of the great days of heathen Rome; and prates

Of peace, and liberty, and equal law,

And mild philosophy, to us the knights
And warriors of this warlike age, who rule

Nobles.

A grievous change.

Lady C.

I ever thought him so:
A sad wise man, of daring eye, and free,

Yet mystic speech. When ye have laughed, I still
Have shuddered, for his darkling words, oft fell
Like oracles, answering with dim repose
To my unspoken thoughts, so that my spirit
Albeit unused to womanish fear, hath quail'd
To hear his voice's deep vibration. Watch him!
Be sure he is ambitious. Watch him, lords :-
He hath o'erleapt the barrier, poverty;
Hath conquered his mean parentage; hath clomb
To decent station, to high lettered fame;
The pontiff's notary, the honoured friend
Of Petrarch. Watch him well.

By hatred

Rie. By danger the two hands that tightest grasp Each other-the two cords that soonest knit A fast and stubborn tie: your true-love knot Is nothing to it. Faugh! the supple touch Of pliant interest, or the dust of time, Or the pin-point of temper, loose, or rot, Or snap love's silken band. Fear and old hate, They are sure weavers-they work for the storm, The whirlwind, and the rocking surge; their knot Endures till death. Ye will be friends, I tell theeEre yon inconstant moon hath waxed and waned, Ye will be friends. Yet Martin Ursini

Shall ne'er be senator.

Sav.

Why, master prophet,

Men say thou shalt be senator, or king,

Or emperor. Hast read the scroll? when goest thou To head thy rebel band? See! see! (gives the scroll.

Rie. (reading.) "At midnight."

Well, I come here to while away the time
Till that dread hour. Upon the Capitol."
Look that ye set forth scouts and men-at-arms
To seize the chiefs, and chase the multitude,
Like sheep before the dogs. Ye were best send
To man the castle walls, a triple guard.-
Who is the captain of the watch?

Sav.

Alberti.

Of Angelo. Why dost thou seek thy sword?
Thou goest not forth so late, good husband?
Col.

The night is fair-I shall take horse at once
For Palestrina; thence to Avignon.
We'll bide some struggle with these Ursini.
Will ye ride with me, kinsmen?

Yes: