No More Learning

20
Had I but slain him, I had gone on high,
Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive
My feebleness of arm that reached him not,
And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis
A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's
No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills
Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth
And ashes! [_The Lutheran dies_.

_Caes. _ Yes, thine own amidst the rest.
Well done, old Babel!

[_The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the
Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the
Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo_. [248]

_Caes. _ Ha! right nobly battled!
Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions, 30
Together by the ears and hearts!
I have not
Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus
Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then;
Now they must take their turn.

_Soldiers_. He hath escaped!
Follow!

_Another Sold. _ They have barred the narrow passage up,
And it is clogged with dead even to the door.

_Caes. _ I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't
In part. I would not have his bulls abolished--
'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences
Demand some in return; no, no, he must not 40
Fall;--and besides, his now escape may furnish
A future miracle, in future proof
Of his infallibility. [_To the Spanish Soldiery_.
Well, cut-throats!
What do you pause for? If you make not haste,
There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And _you_, too, Catholics! Would ye return
From such a pilgrimage without a relic?