CARLOMAN.
Think what it is—by God Himself, remember
What you would do to me. The very dead
Rise ... Everything must have escape to live,
And I shall still be living.
[He throws both arms over his face, then suddenly removing them, makes a frenzied movement closer to the Pope.]
Let me die
Here, now! It is most impious, horrible
To bury me, full to the lips with life.
Sharpness-of-death, give that, but not to feel
The prison walls close on an energy
Beating its claim to worlds.
ZACHARIAS.
What I have spoken
Is and remains irrevocable.
BONIFACE.
[gently to Carloman] Yield,—
Yield to a God Who compasses you round
With love so strong it binds you.
CARLOMAN.
And is hell—
But I reject such love.
O Pepin, listen!
I see so far! Your pact with Rome undoes
Long centuries, and yields your country up
To spiritless restriction, and a future
Entombed alive, as mine will be, in night.
Simply renounce your promise, bid your soldiers
Seize the old man who numbs us. You and I
Could set to music that would never end
The forces of our people.