As you are wise and manly, break your promise;
It injures France, the freedom-loving plains
The aweless stock we come of. Will you give
The future of your people to a priest,
You who profess the tonsure round my head
Disables for a crown?
PEPIN.
I, break my treaty,
And ruin my whole scheme!
CARLOMAN.
The Pope is gray,
And Astolph young and sound in force as you.
Which is the deadlier foe?
PEPIN.
The Pope and I
Are age and youth together. Carloman,
I love you still; you take me at the heart
Now that your face is glowing: I must speak,
For either you are mad, or have forgotten
How deeds are judged here in the actual world.
You are a monk, a runaway, and worse—
A heretic blasphemer, one who tempts
Both to rebellion and to perjury,
Yourself as disobedient as forsworn.
You must go back and bear your punishment
Without the least delay; for you are lost
If Zacharias find you here.
CARLOMAN.
Go back!
Go back!