CARLOMAN.
[starting] Pepin—King!
[turning aside again]
Why should this news so knock to enter—why?
It seems to make me open a shut door:
I see the Rhone, I see my father’s roof,
The gay French faces!—Pepin, King!
BONIFACE.
I hear
Your will with joy. It is a deadly peril
To France that she is governed by a man
No better than an image, golden-haired
But lifeless as a stone. The very people
Laugh at the word, a King. But all will change
When Pepin’s bulk of character extends
The meaning of his office.
CARLOMAN.
Pepin, King!
O Marcomir, you have heard it?
MARCOMIR.
Yes, I heard ...
No matter! He has ruled so long, the title
Will fall on him as new years follow old.
ZACHARIAS.
[to Boniface.]
We bid you see he is proclaimed; ourself
Have hope to crown him when occasion brings
Either the Frank to us or us to him.
Although he want our oil, we give him grace
To exercise all sovereignty, immuring
Chilperic within the cloister where he dwells.