What have ye to give now?
Who, who, I say,--what single person, what petty chief, asks you for the authority he assumes?
His senate is his sword; his chart of license is written, not with ink, but blood.

The people!--there is no people! Oh! would to God that we might disentomb the spirit of the Past as easily as her records!" "If I were your kinsman," whispered Montreal to Adrian, "I would give this man short breathing-time between his peroration and confession." "What is your Emperor ?" continued Rienzi; "a stranger! What the great head of your Church ?--an exile! Ye are without your lawful chiefs; and why?
Because ye are not without your law-defying tyrants! The licence of your nobles, their discords, their dissensions, have driven our Holy Father from the heritage of St.Peter;--they have bathed your streets in your own blood; they have wasted the wealth of your labours on private quarrels and the maintenance of hireling ruffians! Your forces are exhausted against yourselves.

You have made a mockery of your country, once the mistress of the world.

You have steeped her lips in gall--ye have set a crown of thorns upon her head! What, my Lords!" cried he, turning sharply round towards the Savelli and Orsini, who, endeavouring to shake off the thrill which the fiery eloquence of Rienzi had stricken to their hearts, now, by contemptuous gestures and scornful smiles, testified the displeasure they did not dare loudly to utter in the presence of the Vicar and the people.--"What! even while I speak--not the sanctity of this place restrains you! I am an humble man--a citizen of Rome;--but I have this distinction: I have raised against myself many foes and scoffers for that which I have done for Rome.

I am hated, because I love my country; I am despised, because I would exalt her.