They say they are better off with you than with the Barons before, and therefore they love you.

But men in business, Tribune, poor men with families, must look to their bellies.

Only one man in ten goes to law--only one man in twenty is butchered by a Baron's brigand; but every man eats, and drinks, and feels a tax." "This cannot be your reasoning, Cecco!" said Rienzi, gravely.
"Why, Tribune, I am an honest man, but I have a large family to rear." "Enough; enough!" said the Tribune quickly; and then he added abstractedly as to himself, but aloud,--"Methinks we have been too lavish; these shows and spectacles should cease." "What!" cried Cecco; "what, Tribune!--would you deny the poor fellows a holiday.

They work hard enough, and their only pleasure is seeing your fine shows and processions; and then they go home and say,--'See, our man beats all the Barons! what state he keeps!'" "Ah! they blame not my splendour, then!" "Blame it; no! Without it they would be ashamed of you, and think the Buono Stato but a shabby concern." "You speak bluntly, Cecco, but perhaps wisely.

The saints keep you! Fail not to remember what I told you!" "No, no.